35
Beckett
“Yes, Love,” I say into the phone as I hold it to my ear with one hand while adjusting an appointment for next week on the computer with the other. “I’m sure whatever you’ve packed will be enough.”
Penny groans dramatically at the same time as the door to Inked on Agnes opens, drawing my attention across the room. “You’re such a man. I need outfit specific details, Beckett.”
A familiar-looking beast of a bloke walks in, his blonde hair tied into a knot at the back of his head. I nod at him in greeting, and he nods back, but even as I scan his face, I can’t quite place him.
I know him from somewhere…
“I’ve got to go, gorgeous. Someone’s just walked in. I’ll see you soon, yeah? Don’t stress about it. This trip is meant to be relaxing .”
“Ugh!” she snaps before hanging up on me.
Her attitude does nothing but make me smile, especially because the memories of what she let me do to her body last night are still lingering in the back of my mind.
I knew booking a last-minute babymoon would cause her to flip her shit initially. The woman likes to be in control, I get it. But she’s been dropping hints about the new hotel that just opened in Victor Harbour for the past couple weeks, and when I looked it up and saw that they had a deluxe suite available this weekend, I booked that shit. So, as of tomorrow morning, we’re out’a here.
Perfect timing too, ‘cos while I am beyond excited to become a dad, Penny’s pregnancy is flying. She’s already thirty-weeks along, and selfishly, I’m not quite ready to share her attention. I want more time. Need more time. I’ve only just got her back.
“Nice place you got here,” the newcomer says, pulling me from my thoughts as he stares at the portrait of Emma that Ryan proudly hung on the wall above our black leather couch. “Weird choice of music, though.”
Frowning, I listen, and realise I’ve somehow tuned out Ryan blasting “Mr Boombastic” by Shaggy from the back room. Thankfully, it’s muffled by the closed door.
I snort and shake my head. “Sorry. My business partner’s in a mood. He tends to get a bit odd when he’s artistically blocked.” He nods; eyes still focused on the mismatched frames as I ask, “What can I do for you, mate?”
He turns to me and smiles before crossing the room. “Sorry. You’re Beckett, I assume?” he asks, extending a tattooed hand over the front counter just as I place my phone down and do the same.
“That’s me.”
As we shake hands, the sleeve of his white henley rides up a little, exposing more of his fully blacked out forearm, and I put two and two together. He’s the singer from Walkers’ first karaoke night. He looks a little older than he did in the bar, in the light of day, but it’s him. I can see it now.
“Mack,” he says. “Good to finally meet you.”
“Finally?” I ask, dropping his hand and crossing my arms, confused by the statement.
“ Inked on Agnes has quite the rep. I looked you up before coming in,” he clarifies as he looks around the front room, taking in every detail.
“What do you need, man?” I ask, unsure if he’s casing the joint or if he’s just an inquisitive kind of guy. “Looking for some ink, or…”
“Nah.” He laughs, turning his attention back to me. “Just a conversation. If you’re up for it.”
Something about the smug look on his face has me standing to my full height to match his own, but before either of us gets a chance to say anything else, the music shuts off and Ryan’s voice echoes down the hall.
“Bro, maybe I should just do that cock tattoo,” he says, the volume of his words increasing as he gets closer. “I’ve never done one, and I don’t know. Maybe it’ll get me out of this rut. I’m so sick of doing the same shit. I mean, you got yours done-” He stops as he steps into the front room and spots our visitor. “Oh, shit,” he says, chuckling, as I narrow my eyes at him and Mack snorts. “Sorry, man,” he says to me, not looking the least bit sorry that he just told this stranger that my cock is inked. He looks at Mack for a moment and squints his eyes as if trying to place him, and then shoots him a finger gun. “Karaoke guy, yeah?”
He's clearly the more observant of the two of us.
“That’s me,” Mack replies, extending his hand as Ryan steps forward and does the same. Once they’ve introduced themselves, Ryan steps back and crosses his arms, mimicking my stance. “What’s up? You here for some ink? I’d love to get my hands on that,” he says, nodding at Mack’s forearm.
“He wants to have a conversation ,” I say.
“Oh yeah? No worries, man.” He looks down at the chunky silver watch on his wrist. “I had a last-minute cancellation, so I’ve got another forty minutes or so before my next client. You want to sit?”
“Sure,” Mack responds with a shrug before walking over to the couch and making himself at home.
I round the counter, cross the room, and slide our new glossy black coffee table out and away from the couch, to use as a makeshift seat, while Ryan drags out a leather chair from his studio.
Once we’re all comfortable and seated, Ryan intertwines his fingers and raises them to rest on the back of his head. “Alright, big man. You’ve got the floor. What’s up?”
Mack leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and smirks as he says, “I want to buy into Inked on Agnes .”
“Come again?” Ryan asks after an uncomfortably long moment of silence.
Mack shrugs. “Want to open my own place in town, but you guys are clearly where everyone goes to get their ink, so I don’t know how successful I’d be if I tried.”
“You’re an artist?” I ask, trying to wrap my head around his request.
He nods. “Yep. Used to practice on myself in my garage while my parents were asleep.” He nods down at the badly drawn skull and bones tattoo on his right hand. “Wasn’t great when I first started, but I got picked up by a killer artist not long after. He taught me everything I needed to know, and I worked my ass off to get to this point in my career.”
Ryan relaxes a little, and nods in understanding. “Well shit, good on you, mate. I respect the hustle, and if you’re a decent artist, I’m not opposed to discussing bringing you on board. Both our circumstances have changed since we opened this place, so having a third artist on the books is something we’ve been thinking about for a while now, anyway.”
Mack leans back against the plush cushions of the sofa as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Don’t want to work for you. Don’t do well being told what to do, especially when it comes to my art. I want to be partners, or nothing .”
I can’t help but laugh, ‘cos I know where he’s coming from. I’ve been there, and his transparency extinguishes my suspicion.
Ryan glances over at me, the side of his mouth tilted into a half smile, letting me know he’s intrigued, and I nod, letting him I am too.
“Shit,” Ryan mutters, shaking his head. “Alright, bro. Let’s talk. You got a portfolio with you?”
Mack grins from ear to ear. “Thought you’d never ask.”