2. Chapter 2
FOUR YEARS AGO
HERO
The voices of the hundreds of people packed into the convention center ring in my ears, along with the rock music playing from nearly every booth and the buzz of dozens of tattoo machines.
I roll my neck to work out the kinks and stretch my fingers.
I’ve already done more tattoos today than I usually do in a week, and it’s barely past noon.
“Don’t forget to drink some water in between sessions,” Piston says over the buzz of his own machine.
“Yes, Dad.” I chuckle and roll my eyes, even though I’m obediently reaching for a water bottle out of the cooler we brought along for the day.
“I thought I was Daddy,” Arrow says, putting a bandage over the tattoo he just finished.
“You’re Daddy,” Jag agrees. “Piston is Dad . Two very different things.”
“Why do I feel like I’m being insulted right now?” Piston deadpans.
“Because pretty much everything that comes out of Jag’s mouth sounds like an insult?” Tex snags a water bottle of his own.
I scan the crowd, enjoying having a minute to breathe.
We all opted not to take appointments today and to keep it walk-in only for this convention, and we’ve been pretty much slammed doing flash art for virgins and tattoo veterans alike since the minute the doors opened hours ago.
I’m definitely not complaining. It’s fucking kick-ass to see so many ink enthusiasts in one place like this.
I eye a couple of impressive tattoo sleeves while I sip my water, and then my gaze lands on a guy a couple of booths down.
There are plenty of hot dudes here, so I’m not sure what exactly catches my attention about this one in particular, but whether he knows it or not, I’m caught in his web.
He’s tall and slender, dressed in tight-fitting black pants with a pair of rainbow suspenders hanging down rather than looped up over his shoulders.
The suspenders match the rainbow shoelaces in his black Converse.
There’s a silver hoop piercing through the left side of his full, biteable bottom lip, and a touch of smudged eyeliner under both eyes, more rockstar than femme.
He’s definitely too young for my forty-year-old ass to be drooling over, but I can’t seem to get myself to look away.
He shakes his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes and glances up, meeting my gaze.
My heart skips a beat, and heat rises in my cheeks, but I still can’t fucking make myself look anywhere else.
I’m expecting a glare for my creepy staring, or at least for him to turn and walk far, far away, but instead, the corners of his lips immediately curl up into a smile.
He sets down the studded leather choker he was just looking at and starts towards the Ink Slingers booth.
“Oh shit, is that…” Tex starts to ask. I have no clue what the rest of that sentence was going to be, because he snaps his mouth shut as soon as the hot rainbow rocker reaches our booth.
“Hey.” His voice is deep and husky, and the smile is still lingering on his lips as he drags his eyes over me shamelessly.
My body heats and our eyes lock, and for a few seconds it feels like the rest of the noisy, chaotic convention center fades away.
“Are you taking walk-ins?” he asks.
“Walk-ins?” I ask in a daze. His smile twitches and amusement dances in his eyes, like he has guys getting stupid over him all the time. I give my head a quick shake to clear my thoughts and pull myself together. “For a tattoo? Yeah, I’ve got time. What did you have in mind?”
“I’ve been thinking about a spiderweb on my shoulder. This is my first tattoo though, so I’ve been trying to work up the courage for a while. Could you do that?” He rolls up his sleeve to show me the intended canvas.
I don’t have any spiderwebs on my flash board, but I grab my sketch pad and pull up some random drawings I’ve been fiddling around with recently, one of which happens to be a spiderweb. I show it to him, and he nods.
“Cool. Yeah, come on back and we’ll get started. The only thing is, since this isn’t flash, I don’t have the image printed on transfer paper here. I’ll have to freehand it.”
He shrugs. “That’s fine. I trust you.”
I sputter a laugh, another wave of heat licking at my skin as I catch myself leaning in a little closer to this mysteriously captivating stranger.
“You don’t even know me,” I say.
“You have a trustworthy face.” He smiles wider and my eyes flick down to that hoop through his lip again. I’ve never kissed a guy with a lip ring, but right now it’s all I can think about. Would he gasp if I tugged it gently between my teeth, moan against my lips if I teased it with my tongue?
My cock swells, but Jag’s snicker behind me draws me out of my fantasy. Jesus, Hero, don’t eye fuck the clients , I scold myself.
I clear my throat and take a step back. “Cool. Go take a seat and I’ll grab the consent form and be right there.” I gesture towards the empty chair I’ve had my clients in all day.
I grab one of the clipboards and a fresh package of needles and gloves, then head over to join him at my makeshift station.
While he fills out the form, I start making a mental plan of exactly how I want to lay the spiderweb over the contours of his shoulder. He hands me the form once he’s done, and I glance at it to make sure it all looks good.
“Onyx. That’s a kick-ass name,” I say as I set the clipboard aside and start pulling on a pair of gloves so I can get to work prepping his shoulder.
That spark of amusement dances in his green eyes again and he purses his lips like he’s trying not to laugh.
“You don’t know who I am, do you? I thought for a second you recognized me and that’s why you were…” He trails off, tugging his lip ring between his teeth just like I was imagining doing myself a few minutes ago.
I cock my head. “Should I?”
He stares at me for a few long seconds then shakes his head. “No.”
I feel like I’m missing something, but I can’t put my finger on exactly what. It’s like there’s a joke I’m not in on. Or maybe he really just thought I recognized him from somewhere. I guess that’s better than him realizing I was drooling over him like a total horndog.
I open a fresh razor and do a quick once-over to make sure the spot is nice and smooth before grabbing the lavender scented antiseptic wash to clean the area.
“So, you from Milwaukee or are you just in the city for the convention?” I’ve always found that making small talk sets people at ease, especially tattoo virgins. It’s definitely not that I’m dying to know if he lives nearby.
“I’m in the city for… work.” He clears his throat.
“I’m staying at the hotel across the street actually, and I saw the signs for the tattoo convention this morning, so I figured I’d pop over and check it out.
” He holds still while I uncap a pen and start to draw the outline onto his skin.
“I grew up not far from here though. In a little town called Fall Crosse.” He wheezes a tight laugh.
“No one’s ever heard of it, but it’s near—”
“I know where it is.” I cut him off with a smile.
“Yeah. You know it?”
“That’s actually where I live. It’s where Ink Slingers is located too.
So, if you don’t hate your first tattoo, you should be sure to swing by the next time you’re passing through Milwaukee for work .
” I put a little extra emphasis on the word the same way he stuttered over it before.
Whatever he’s being cagey about, it’s fun to see him squirm a little before he grins again.
“Maybe I’ll do that.”
I nod, then swivel around to set up my needle and ink.
“You ready?” I ask once I have everything set up.
Onyx takes a deep breath, holds it for a second, then lets it out slowly. “Ready.”
I press down on the pedal and bring the buzzing needle slowly to his skin, prepared for the possibility that he might startle or flinch.
Tattoo virgins aren’t the only ones who do it either.
I’ve inked plenty of people who jump the second the needle touches them, even after a dozen tattoos.
He manages to hold still though, rigid as a statue for the first few slow lines I draw with the needle. After a minute, he starts to relax.
“That’s not so bad,” he says with a serene lilt to his voice.
There’s nothing I love more than the people who relax and enjoy the flood of endorphins that come with a tattoo session.
But seeing peacefulness wash over Onyx’s face isn’t just nice, it’s sexy as hell.
It’s too easy to imagine that same slack, blissed out expression on his face following something a lot more exciting than a tattoo session.
I almost wish he’d asked for something more complicated than a spiderweb now.
I’ll be finished with this in no time, and then he’ll be gone.
Out of the corner of my eye I notice his fingers twitching. It seems erratic at first, but the longer I watch it, the more obvious it becomes that the motions are the finger positions for guitar chords, like he’s playing air guitar.
“Sorry,” he mutters when he notices me watching, curling his hand into a fist to stop his fingers from twitching.
“I don’t mind. If it keeps you relaxed, go for it.”
“I’m relaxed,” Onyx says. “That, uh, it’s just this thing I do without really thinking about it. It’s kind of weird.”
“It looked like guitar chords. I’m assuming you play?” It’s even easier to make small talk when I have the excuse of keeping my eyes on my work instead of staring at his tempting lips and mesmerizing eyes.
“Yeah.” His fingers start moving again, and this time he doesn’t try to stop them. “It’s… I have this thing called synesthesia…”
He pauses, and I nod. “Yeah, I think I’ve heard of that. That’s where your senses are mixed up, right? Like you see emotions as colors and stuff?”
Onyx chuckles. “Kind of, yeah. It’s different for everybody, but the big one for me is that touch is auditory. Feelings usually are too.”
“Holy shit, for real? So, what, when you’re anxious you hear, like, the score from Jaws or something?”
He barks out a louder laugh this time. “Kind of,” he says again. “It’s my own music, not music I’ve heard before, but that’s basically the idea.”
I turn that over in my head while I keep working, noticing the rhythm of his fingers even more now. I wish I knew something about music so I could figure out what the chords he’s playing would sound like.
“If it’s mainly touch and emotion that turn into sounds, sex must be interesting.” I flinch as soon as the words fall out of my mouth, pulling the needle away from his skin so I don’t fuck up. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.”
I glance at his face, and instead of scorn or disgust I catch him dragging his tongue along his bottom lip with a smolder in his expression.
“It is.” His voice is back to that husky tone, raising goose bumps all over my skin.
I pepper him with some more questions, and just like I thought, I finish up his tattoo in no time. My spiel about home care is so automatic it leaves me with plenty of brain space to wonder if I should ask for his number while I’m rattling it off.
He’s young though. Twenty-five, according to the birth date he wrote down on the form. Besides, the way he looks, I’m sure he’s sick and tired of guys panting after him like idiots.
“Thanks.” He takes the care instructions and folds them up to shove in his pocket. “Listen, I’m in town for one more night, would you want to grab a drink when you’re done here?”
The question punches the air out of my lungs, and I’m sure I look like a fish the way my mouth opens and closes a few times while I try to find the word “yes” among the silent thanks I’m sending up to whoever’s smiling down on me in this wide, wonderful universe.
“A drink? Yeah, that sounds good.”
“Cool.” He smiles and plucks my card off of the table. “I’ll text you?” He waves the card at me questioningly and I nod.
“Yeah, that’s my cell. Shoot me a text and tell me where to meet you.”
“Will do.” He winks, then saunters off. I watch him until he disappears into the crowd.
A hand clamps down on my shoulder, and I startle.
“Dude, do you know who that was?” Arrow asks.
“Who?”
“Onyx Hart. He’s the lead guitarist for Black Sheep. They’re an alt rock band out of Seattle. Grunge isn’t dead just yet.”
I sputter a laugh and my shoulders sag. Great, just when I thought I was about to get lucky.
Maybe he just doesn’t want to spend the night drinking alone or he wants to talk about tattoos more.
One thing’s for sure, a literal fucking rockstar isn’t interested in hooking up with a middle-aged biker like me.