Chapter 15 Knight
FIFTEEN
KNIGHT
All the blood in my body surges to my dick at the sound of my doll’s sweet voice as she whispers, “Let’s have a baby,” against my ear.
We were having a baby anyway, but hearing her tell me she wants it changes everything.
“Good lord, you guys are so stinking cute,” Camden, Octavia’s client, says, laughing loudly as she climbs the stairs and sits down on the edge of the tattoo bed.
“Let me get set up, and we’ll see how much we can get done,” Octavia says, suddenly all business.
For the next three hours, I watch my wife create a masterpiece on Camden’s skin. Most of her arm was already covered in tattoos, but almost effortlessly, Doll used a Sharpie to sketch out a design in between the tattoos that were already there, and then picked up a tattoo gun and started drawing.
The pain is clear on Camden’s face by the time Doll puts down her tattoo gun and leans back.
Grabbing a bottle of something wrapped in plastic, she sprays Camden’s arm, then wipes it over, tilting her head to the side first one way, then the other, before she finally smiles.
“Why don’t you go take a look?” she tells Camden, who exhales in relief, then slowly gets up from the bed and makes her way gingerly over to the mirror hanging on the wall behind Leo’s desk.
“Holy shit, Octy,” Camden gasps, spinning around to face us with a huge grin on her face. “It’s amazing. I love it.”
“Good. We probably only need a couple more hours, and the sleeve will be finished. If you want to get it done sooner rather than later, you might as well book it in while my schedule is still pretty open,” Octy says, peeling the gloves off her hands and throwing them into the small trash can beside her chair.
“I want to get started on that spine piece we talked about a while back too,” Camden says.
Octavia’s brow wrinkles for a moment, then smoothes. “Oh, the ivy?”
“Yeah. I know it’s going to hurt like a bitch, but it’ll look so pretty.”
“No worries, do you want to schedule that for in a couple of months once your arm is fully healed too, or do you want to wait a while?”
“No, I want to get my next few appointments booked in while I can,” Camden says, all the pain gone from her eyes and replaced with excitement.
“Awesome. Well, you know the drill. Keep it clean and take care of it. Any problems, let me know. Leo can check you out and book all your future appointments.”
“Thank you, Octy. I’m so glad you’re back, and congratulations.” Turning to me, she smiles. “It was nice to meet you, Knight.”
“You too,” I say politely, crossing my arms over my chest when she hugs my wife before making her way over to Leo’s desk.
“It’s lunchtime,” I tell Octavia quietly.
“I have another client due in thirty minutes. I’m not really hungry. But you can go and grab something if you want to. I guess we should have thought about bringing food with us,” she says absentmindedly.
“I’ll order us something,” I growl.
“Honestly, baby, I’m not hungry,” she says, focused on cleaning up her station and not paying attention to me.
Closing the distance between us, I scoop her into my arms and, ignoring her insistence that I put her down, carry her into the empty break room.
“Knight, what the fuck? You can’t act like a caveman when I’m at work,” she snaps angrily.
“Lunch is at 1300 hours. It’s 1322. We need to eat.”
A look of understanding flashes in her eyes, and she glances at the clock on the wall, then back to me.
“Lunch is at 1300 hours,” she says back to me.
“I nod.”
“Okay. But I don’t have time to go out and get anything to eat right now. I need to clean my station and get set up for my next client.”
“I’ll order food for us,” I tell her, hating the gnawing sensation that’s clawing beneath my skin with each second more that passes, taking me further and further away from my schedule.
“Okay,” she agrees, much more amiable now.
Searching for the number for Granny Annie’s Diner, I place a food order, then offer the delivery boy a fifty-dollar tip if he can get the food here in less than ten minutes. Seven minutes later, a red-cheeked and breathless teenager bursts through the door, our takeout bag held proudly aloft.
“Seven minutes,” he says through gasping breaths.
Nodding, I descend the stairs, hand him his tip, then take the bag from him and climb the steps again.
“Same time tomorrow?” the boy says, smiling hopefully.
“If you can get it to us before one p.m.,” Octavia says, smiling softly at me.
“How about I come get the order in person at, say, twelve? I could get food for everyone, then deliver it before one?” he asks, optimistically scanning the faces of the other people in the room, before ending on me.
“That actually sounds like a great idea,” Betty says, looking up from the leg tattoo she’s working on. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Jaiden.”
“Okay, Jaiden, we’ll see you tomorrow at twelve. I’ll speak to Granny Annie about getting an account set up for the studio.”
“Awesome,” the kid says, fist pumping the air before he turns and leaves.
Placing the takeout bag on the bed, I rip it open, then hand Octavia her grilled cheese and cup of soup before I pull out my sub. I finish it in four bites, but I don’t know if it tastes good, because the need to eat as quickly as possible is all my mind can settle on.
Octavia tattoos two more clients before she finally waves goodbye and slumps down tiredly into her chair.
I watch with rapt attention as she systematically cleans and sanitizes her station, each action done with repetitive precision.
When everything is clean, she checks her storage cabinet, then once she’s satisfied, she closes and locks the sliding door, finally rising from her seat and lifting her arms over her head in a full body stretch.
“Are you in tomorrow?” Betty asks.
“Yep, full day. You?” Doll asks, turning to face her friend.
“Just the morning. I have a doctor’s appointment in the afternoon.”
“How ’bout you guys, Cyrus, Leo?” Doll calls out, looking from Cyrus with his palpable anger, over to Leo, who has her feet up on the desk, her cell phone in her hand.
“I have a fucking wannabe badass who’s booked a full-day session tomorrow,” Cyrus snarls, not looking up from the sketch pad he’s working on.
Something about this man makes me uneasy. I’m not threatened by him, nor do I feel like he poses a threat to my doll, but there’s something about the anger that seems to exude from him in waves that sets me on edge.
“You booked someone for a full day?” Octavia gasps.
“I told him he wouldn’t sit that long. I tried to tell him to start with four hours max, but he thinks he’s a fucking baller, and even though I told him he’ll still have to pay for the full day no matter when he taps out, he’s confident that he’ll make it all eight hours.” Cyrus laughs dryly.
“First tattoo?” Betty asks.
“Yep,” Cyrus says, popping the letter p.
“Twenty bucks says he lasts less than two hours,” Octavia calls.
“I say three,” Leo shouts. “His ego will make him eke it out that long, but he’ll be squirming from an hour in.”
“I’ll be kind. Three and a half hours, but I bet he’s crying by the time he taps.” Betty laughs.
“I give the fucker less than an hour. He’s a skinny little runt who thinks he’s a gangster and that walking like he’s got a limp makes him a badass,” Cyrus growls.
“Is Etta in tomorrow?” Octavia asks the room.
“Yeah, the guys are on shift in the morning, so she’ll be manning the desk for four days,” Betty confirms.
“I have a few appointments tomorrow, but at least one will be a runner,” Leo says with a wide, excited smile.
“Let me guess, dick piercing?” Octavia asks with a chuckle.
“Yep. I bet his poor little dick will crawl back inside of him the moment he sees the needle.” Leo cackles.
My own dick and balls twinge in sympathy at the thought of having any kind of needle anywhere near them.
“Knight, you’re looking a little pale. I take it you don’t fancy some new jewelry down there?” Leo asks.
“No. I’m not much of a jewelry fan,” I tell her.
“From what I hear, he doesn’t need it,” Betty whisper-yells.
“Well, is that so?” Leo drawls, arching her eyebrow at me.
Ignoring Leo, I turn to Betty. “My associates will be here in a couple of days to do a full security assessment of the building.”
“So soon? Are they going to be able to do it while we have clients in?” she asks.
“Yes, their visit won’t be invasive,” I advise her.
“Okay, well, cool. Are you guys heading home?” she asks Octavia.
“Yes. I need to draw up some stuff for my clients tomorrow, but I can do that on the sofa,” Doll says, leaning into me and letting me hold her up.
“Cool. Well, happy first day. I’m doing things the same way Suede did.
You can cash out your tips at the end of each day, but appointment costs are split seventy-thirty, and everyone gets paid on a Saturday.
Full transparency, the split is the same for everyone, and even though I know you don’t expect it, I’ll tell you the same as I’ve told everyone.
It’s not my job to find you clients, or Etta’s job to manage your socials.
I expect all prebooked appointments to be put in the main date book, and if you accept a walk-in, that has to be entered in there too, or you won’t get paid for it.
I’m going to get an online booking system sorted soon, but I just haven’t had a chance, so we’re old school for the moment,” Betty says, flashing me a smile before turning her attention back to the guy whose leg she’s tattooing.
“That all works for me,” Octavia says airily, clearly not perturbed by Betty’s rules.
“I can recommend a booking system that can be adapted to the studio fairly quickly,” I advise her.
“You can?” Betty asks curiously, turning and looking at me.
“I’ll send you the details.”
“Awesome. Have a good night, guys. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
Taking Octavia’s hand, I lead her out of the studio and toward the car, grateful that we should be home in time to eat on schedule at 1900 hours.