Chapter 14 Octavia #4
Unlike me, at my diminutive height of a little over five feet one, this girl is tall—easily seven or eight inches taller than me. Her right arm is covered in tattoos, she has half a dozen earrings in each ear, and she’s dressed like it’s dress down day at a BDSM club.
I instantly know we’re going to be friends.
“I’m Leo,” she says, holding her hand out to me.
Reaching out, I curl my hand around hers and shake. “I’m Octy, and this is my husband, Knight,” I tell her, motioning to the man who is looming stoically behind me.
Her eyes run over me, then over Knight, but she doesn’t look like she’s leering. She’s just looking, and I get that. Hell, I probably did the same to her.
She’s wearing skin-tight latex leggings and a band shirt that’s had the sleeves cut out, then the bottom hacked off, so it hangs just below her breasts, which are wrapped in a black latex boob tube.
On her feet, she’s wearing sky-high stilettos with a heel sharp enough that I bet they could cause damage if she decided to use them as a weapon.
“Nice to meet you both,” she says, smiling widely.
“You’re front of house?” I ask, my brow furrowed. “I thought Etta was…” I trail off because I’m not sure what Etta’s situation is now.
“I’m splitting my time between front of house and body mods,” Leo says.
“Oh, cool.”
“Etta’s working from home while Oz is off shift, then coming into the studio while he’s on base,” Betty says from her chair on the stage.
“I hijacked the book yesterday. I forgot to text you,” I tell Betty, holding the date book up sheepishly. “I put my rates in the front beside yours, Suede’s, and Cyrus’s too.”
“Knight texted me last night,” Betty says, waving my concern away.
“He did?” I ask, spinning to look at him.
“You were tired,” he says coolly.
“Knight is as crazy as the rest of the men in this town, so he’s going to be acting as our security so he has an excuse to stalk Octy all day,” Betty announces to no one in particular, rubbing her pregnant belly with one hand while she fills tiny ink pots with a rainbow of colored ink with the other.
“Oh, cool. Because more testosterone is exactly what this studio needs,” Leo says beneath her breath as she stomps back to her seat behind the front desk.
Placing the date book on the front desk, I climb the stairs, hyperaware of Knight following behind me.
Yesterday, when the studio was empty, the idea of having Knight here felt normal, but now that there are other people here, my husband seems to take up so much more space than I was expecting, and I have literally no clue where he’s going to sit or what he’s going to do while I work.
“Hey, Cyrus, get out here,” Leo shouts, startling me.
“What?” Cyrus snaps angrily, emerging from one of the private rooms behind the stage.
Prowling forward, like each step he takes offends him, Cyrus climbs the steps, his lip curling with annoyance when he sees me and Knight.
“Hey, I’m Octy,” I say cautiously, not wanting to get too close to the aura of anger that’s emanating off him.
“You’re the one who should have been here two months ago?” he snarls.
I feel rather than see Knight step closer behind me, my own impressive shadow, clearly unwilling to back down in the face of another man’s aggression.
“Cyrus Atherton. I’m an asshole. You’ll get used to it,” he says, eyeing Knight warily.
“Knight Taylor, Octavia’s husband.”
Cyrus looks at me, then Knight, then he nods and walks past us and takes a seat in his chair.
“Is Suede in town?” I ask Betty.
“No, Johnny wanted to go home for a while. I think they plan to come back a little closer to Christmas, or whenever this baby makes an appearance, whichever comes first.”
“What about the other artists? Do I know any of them?”
“Obviously, you’ve heard of Att. Did you know he’s Tori’s brother?”
“She told me yesterday. It’s a small world, isn’t it?” I laugh.
“Right! Anyway, he’s waiting for his twin brother, who’s a sculptor, to finish his latest piece before they come to town.
Jed, Sully, and Brooks have all come from the same studio out in Philly.
Apparently, the place they were working out of has had some issues with gangs and money laundering or something.
They should all be here in a couple of days as soon as the apartment they’re renting is ready. ”
“So the place will be full then? All chairs filled?” I ask.
“Yep. I can’t believe it, to be honest. Do you need Leo to schedule you some walk-ins, or are you happy to ease yourself in?” she asks.
“I’m actually pretty busy for the next couple of weeks already.
I posted on my socials yesterday afternoon that my schedule was open, and my DMs have gone insane.
I don’t plan on taking any new clients for a few months while I finish up my regulars who have been waiting to get an appointment with me,” I tell her.
“Works for me. Word of mouth about the studio has spread through town, so we’re getting a few newbs looking to get work, but Jed, Sully, and Brooks aren’t bringing a full schedule of clients, so they’ll have to take on walk-in pieces each week. I doubt they’ll mind.”
An ugly scoffing sound comes from the next chair over, and both Betty and I turn to look at Cyrus.
“You got something to say, Cyrus?” Betty asks coolly.
“No one likes flash walk-ins,” he growls, sounding angrier than the moment dictates.
“I get that, but my schedule is full, Suede isn’t here, and when he is, he keeps his full.
Octy’s schedule is full, yours is full, and Atticus is harder to get an appointment with than any artist I’ve ever known.
So that leaves Sully, Jed, and Brooks. Their art is great, but they’re not as well-established and not as in demand as the rest of us.
If you’d prefer, I can make it a rule that all walk-in work is split between us, but for right now, the rest of us are too busy to take on new clients.
Do you have a problem with that?” she asks, her tone stern and clearly annoyed.
Grunting his agreement, Cyrus’s cell phone rings, and he picks it up and answers it, ending the conversation. Twisting around to look at Knight, I find him staring at Cyrus, his eyes narrowed in hostility.
“Is he always like that?” I ask Betty quietly.
“Yes,” she snaps. “I’d heard his reputation.
Everyone agrees that he’s an asshole and difficult to work with, but he’s a legend.
He’s been tattooing since he was fourteen, and his art is flawless.
Honestly, when he reached out about a chair in the studio, I was excited.
But I’m starting to understand why he doesn’t stay anywhere longer than a year.
I think it’s because everyone is so done with him by then that he has to move, so no one kills him.
He’s been here two months, and I don’t think I’ve had even one civil conversation with him. ”
“How does Cody feel about him?” Knight asks.
“He doesn’t care for him, but Cody’s pretty easygoing. As long as he’s just an asshole and not an asshole to me, he won’t get involved.”
“Wow,” I say, just as the bell over the door dings and Leo’s voice heralds the arrival of someone.
“Hey, welcome to Mountain Ink. Do you have an appointment?”
“Yeah, I’m here to see Octy,” a familiar voice says.
Spinning around, I smile widely when I see Camden. “Hey, Cam, long time no see,” I say, descending the steps to give her a hug.
“Too long. Where the hell have you been? I thought you’d died, and I’d never get this sleeve finished.” Cam laughs, squeezing me tightly before we separate, and she looks around, taking in the studio. “This place is great.”
“It’s all Betty. This is her place.”
“Hey, Cam, how are you?” Betty asks, smiling widely.
“Jesus fucking Christ. Are you pregnant?” Cam shrieks.
“Yep. Wifed and lifed,” Betty calls, rubbing her belly affectionately.
“Holy crap.” Cam whistles. “Is this the husband?” she asks, pointing at Knight.
“It’s a husband, but not mine,” Betty says, looking pointedly in my direction.
“Yours?” Cam gasps, her eyes wide with shock.
“Yep,” I nod, turning to look at Knight and sighing.
He looks delicious today. He’s wearing his usual jeans, belt, and a white shirt, but his arms seem bigger, his stomach flatter, his legs broader.
I move without thought, climbing the stairs and stepping into his body, knowing that he’ll wrap his arms around me the moment I’m close enough, and he does, closing me into his secure embrace.
I don’t know if it’s his simple, clean soap scent, or the way his short hair with just a hint of gray at the hairline looks.
I don’t know if it’s the amazing sex this morning, or how safe I feel having him close with his arms around me, but I find myself pushing up onto my tiptoes and pressing my lips to his ear.
“Let’s have a baby.”