Chapter 3
OLIVER “OLI” HAYES
“Who does he think he is? Who on earth does that—” Asshole.
“—jerk think he is? Why would someone open a tattoo parlor next to one that is already popular? Doesn’t he realize he might hurt business for PD?
” I slouched in the leather seat of my Subaru and sped down the street toward PD’s house.
I didn’t realize until I had to shift to a higher gear that I was going way too fast for the neighborhood.
I took a deep breath and slowed the hell down.
One thing I absolutely couldn’t afford right now was a speeding ticket. I’d been working less because the fall semester at NGU had started again.
I’d been so steamed about that jerk, Ren, I’d barely slept last night.
This should’ve been a perfect day. The sun was shining. It was hot but not humid. Only a few puffy white clouds were sweet wisps in the sky. These were the early fall days they made songs and movies about, so it was total BS that some hot guy with a million tattoos had to go and ruin it.
“Ren. Who names someone Ren anyway? Is he a hero from a fantasy novel?” I snorted.
“Oh, Ren, save me! No, that’s dumb and he’s dumb.
Ugh.” Part of me felt guilty, though, because his business card was burning a hole in my pocket.
I slapped my hand on the steering wheel.
For a brief second, I’d been thrilled someone had wanted to see my artwork.
Okay, perhaps five seconds.
It made me feel like a slimy traitor to have experienced the zing of excitement in the first place.
My elation had nothing to do with the fact that any sane human would want to trace the tattoos decorating his body with their tongue. Really, it didn’t. It was all about having my art acknowledged.
I was loyal to PD. I really was!
But, shit, PD wouldn’t give me the time of day.
When I arrived at PD’s little house, the door on the detached garage was open.
The house itself was the opposite of what someone might expect by just looking at PD, since he was a tattooed biker.
It had wooden siding with a fresh coat of white paint and the lawn was perfect.
I pulled in the driveway behind the blue Ford truck and motorcycle that were already there, then got out, enjoying the way the pleasant heat drove off the chill from the AC.
I took a second to smile at the flawless color-changing purple paint job I’d given my Subaru Forester and buffed out a speck of schmutz on the door with the hem of my T-shirt.
“Oh, why did I do that?” I bit my lip and glanced down at the smudge on my shirt.
My white shirt. I shouldn’t have done that.
I’d been trying to dress the same as Jake at the tattoo parlor.
He always looked good, and perhaps if I appeared more like I belonged, then PD would change his mind about not letting me work there.
I’d been doing anything to make me seem more like a real adult and less like the teenager PD had first gotten to know. So far, it hadn’t worked.
Now I was going to see PD after wiping dirt off my car with my shirt? I slapped a hand to my forehead and wandered toward the open garage door. How could I be so stupid?
Will glanced up from where he was standing in front of a giant easel holding a can of spray paint.
Will also didn’t look like he belonged in his quaint house.
He had a thick dark beard and tons of tattoos.
He was a biker, too. I could easily imagine him riding his Harley down the highway with a group of other guys, the way my dad used to do.
Belonging nowhere but out there, on the road. I swallowed hard.
The canvas Will was working on had to be at least six foot by six foot. It was massive. He lifted a hand in my direction. “Shouldn’t you be in school? You know PD doesn’t want you playing hooky.” He grinned and winked, though. Will and the rules didn’t mix.
I held back a wince. There was no telling if Will was talking about high school or college—he’d had a traumatic brain injury from a motorcycle accident a little while back and sometimes his memory was Swiss cheese.
His brown cap sat backward on his head, and it almost matched the tattoos on the left side of his neck.
He glanced at the canvas, then gave it a few more spurts from the spray can. When I got closer, I moaned.
“How do you do this stuff with spray paint? Is that your take on Impressionism?”
He laughed, but I hadn’t realized you could do hatching and crosshatching with regular old spray-paint nozzles.
My stomach squirmed. I probably couldn’t do this, but Will had the talent.
The swooping lines were hazy, like a Monet painting.
He’d built the layers of paint carefully so the ones beneath peeked through, giving everything a very vibrant quality.
Perhaps the subject was based on one of Undertaker’s customized bikes.
It had gleaming pipes and cherry red paint.
The bike could drive off the canvas into a foggy dream about a perfect day of riding in the summer sunshine.
My heart clenched and I felt choked up for a second. “This is so good.”
Will grunted in my direction but didn’t tear his gaze off the canvas.
“Wow, babe. This is fucking it. This will sell.” PD came up behind us, one crutch making a loud tap on the garage floor, and I stepped aside as he wrapped an arm around Will.
He had a brace on his right leg. He’d told me that he’d gotten in a car accident, but I’d heard Jake say he got shot, which made me want to work with him even more.
My life was boring. No one ever got shot, that was for sure.
They kissed, a sweet meeting of their mouths that easily slid into some dirty tongue wrestling. My cheeks heated as I glanced away.
“It’s wonderful,” I murmured, still hungrily taking in the way the entire painting had come together. Art like this really drove home that I wasn’t done developing my style.
PD shoved me lightly on the shoulder, and I stumbled back a step. He had that annoyed frown that always made my skin crawl. I respected PD, and if I could just get him to see that I would be an asset, I could stop being a pain in the ass and start learning from him.
I had a long way to go, but if I could get time with him, I would improve.
“What are you doing here, bud?” His brow furrowed as he glanced at Will. “You know I don’t want people coming by the house uninvited.” He gave me the type of look that could murder at a hundred yards. “Do we need to have that discussion again?”
“Eh, leave the kid alone,” Will said with a chuckle. “Who would want to be cooped up on a day like this?” He gestured outside at the dazzling sunshine.
“That’s not—” PD sighed and rolled his eyes, then poked at my chest and sort of herded me out of the garage back into the driveway until we were standing beside my car.
He tipped his bowler hat back and leaned down toward me, and my breath caught at the barely restrained anger turning his jaw to steel.
“We’re not having this discussion again.
Will still has his bad days, and no one is to come over here without an invitation unless it’s an emergency.
Is someone dead? Did Barber’s shop blow up with him in it?
Is that why you’re not there, where you belong? ” He raised his eyebrows at me.
I rubbed the back of my neck and closed my eyes for a second, then forced them open again. “If you would just give me a chance—”
He tossed up his hands, almost losing his crutch. “Every member of the Kings promised your dad that we wouldn’t involve you in club business.”
Will wandered out near us, tossing a spray can back and forth between his hands. He whistled and walked around my car. “Who did this? Love the color.”
I grinned. “Me.”
“Good job on it.” He nodded seriously, and I couldn’t fight off the pride that had me standing taller.
I puffed up a bit, but PD let out a growl and deflated me again.
“I didn’t come over for that, but we’ll get back to it!” I held up both hands and sort of waved them in his direction like an idiot. “Some jerk came into your shop while I was there yesterday afternoon—”
He groaned and ran his hands down his face, glaring over his fingertips at me. “Why were you in my shop?”
“Can you just listen?” I twisted my dad’s ring on my finger while he glared. “The asshole’s opening a tattoo parlor next to yours! Do you want that? I was thinking perhaps you could call the Kings and fill your parking spaces with bikes. Perhaps we could go over there and—”
“No! No. No.” He grabbed my shoulders and shook me until I had to clench my teeth so they didn’t rattle out of my skull. “Oli, even if this is true—”
“It is!”
“—it’s none of your fucking business. Barber should’ve never let you work for him.
If you can’t keep your nose out of club business and my business, I’m going to go to King and ask him to put a ban on you from all our businesses.
” He shoved me backward, and I almost fell on my ass.
“We made a promise to keep you out of trouble. And Barber’s a fucking idiot, but I keep my promises. ”
I sucked in a deep breath and felt like a knife had been stabbed in my chest. Or was that my back? “King would never do that.” I hated that my voice wobbled and my lip probably did, too.
He pointed at me. “Don’t test him. King wants you safe.”
“He’s a great guy. He wouldn’t do that! I don’t know why you think he would!”
PD rolled his eyes.
For the first time all day I saw red. I couldn’t think.
“Hey, is that the VP ring King gave Cain?” Will asked, staring down at where I was twisting it on my finger. I hadn’t noticed that he’d come up next to me. I ignored him.