The Lucky Ones (Unpredicatable #2)

Chapter One

Keston

I spend my days peering at half-naked bodies.

Not for fun and games, unfortunately. As a tattoo artist, I’ve had all kinds of customers—eighteen-year-olds who loved thinking they were being defiant against Mommy and Daddy, grandmothers who wanted their grandchild’s name on a discreet patch of skin.

And of course, the couples who came in together, desperate to have their names inked on each other’s bodies forever…

then returning not a year later, begging me to erase that mistake from their lives.

I entered my tattoo shop, Inktastic, and as I did every morning, closed the door behind me and stood for a few moments in the semidarkness.

Soaking in the quiet. Reveling in it. Until I’d left my foster home at eighteen, I’d had no idea what solitude was.

Five foster brothers and sisters had meant little time to myself.

Someone was always in my space, in my face.

I walked across the shop, scanning the photos of our more intricate designs, displayed so the customers could see the type of work we were capable of.

Early beams of sunlight streamed in through the window, and the street began to wake up.

Inktastic was on St. Mark’s Place in the city, and the neighborhood high school kids loved to think they could fool me by pretending to be eighteen.

I constantly had to turn those little idiots away.

I understood wanting autonomy, and God knew I’d been a rotten little bastard at that age, but I wasn’t going to contribute to the delinquency of a minor.

My phone buzzed, and I smiled. My brother, Grady, loved to send me morning affirmations, knowing they made me laugh.

Smile, motherfucker. Don’t color outside the lines today.

Snickering, I replied: But I like to live just over the edge.

I’m sure you do, but your clients might not appreciate it.

Of course, he had an answer. We’d both inherited the sarcasm gene. We just didn’t know from whom.

My clients love me. Wanna come clubbing tonight?

Sure. Lauren’s busy. I’ll swing by after work.

I was gonna text him: Girlfriend got you on a leash? but decided not to be a dick. I slid the phone into my back pocket, and not a minute later, Ambrose walked in.

“Dude, what the fuck are you doing here in the dark?” Tall, skinny, and covered in ink, he squinted at me through his red-framed glasses before flipping on the light switch.

“You got a guy hidden here somewhere?” he joked but peered around nonetheless, as if half expecting a naked dude to run past him.

I rolled my eyes so hard, they hurt. “Why the hell would I do that?” The shop opened at ten, but we all arrived earlier to set up our stations. I also needed to check our online appointments, which comprised more than half our business.

“Got plans for the weekend?” Ambrose asked as he set out his instruments.

“Going out with Grady tonight. Gonna hit up that new dance club my client Jeff owns on Second Avenue. Wanna come with us? I’ve got passes.”

“Nah. Me ’n Carly are going to the movies. Tomorrow we got an anniversary party for her parents, and on Sunday a baby shower for her best friend.”

“Aww. So sweet. Look at you being all cute and domestic.”

“I don’t mind it.” Ambrose shrugged. “I’m thirty-five. I want a kid—a family. We’re savin’ up to buy a house.”

The thought of having to wake up in the morning and make small talk with the same person every day for the rest of my life was fucking unimaginable. I mean, I was a moody son of a bitch on a good day, and I didn’t even want to talk to myself. Why would anyone else?

I set up the schedule. It was going to be a busy day, just the way I liked it. “I’ve got five appointments for you. That okay?”

“Yeah. The more the merrier, as in a happy bank account.”

As a kid, I’d always been fascinated by ink, and to all my foster parents’ despair, would draw designs on my arms and legs with ballpoint pens.

The kids in school would make fun of me, and I’d lash out, first with my mouth, then with my fists.

After getting suspended repeatedly, and a few arrests for smashing windows and swiping stuff from bodegas resulting in a stint in juvie for six months, my foster family put me in art therapy as a last-ditch effort.

My doctor was friends with Carlos Reyes, one of the top tattoo artists in the city, and had invited him to look at my sketches.

He’d offered me a summer job in his shop, where he taught me everything about the business.

I’d worked for him after school and every summer until I graduated from high school.

That had been almost twenty years ago. Learning the art of tattooing—and meeting Carlos—had saved my life.

Funnily enough, I wasn’t covered with tattoos like Ambrose.

I had a small heart on the inside of one wrist, with the inscription “Me” inside it, and the word “TRUE” in script like a bracelet on the other.

I’d gotten them on my eighteenth birthday, to celebrate leaving the foster care system.

I was finally free. The silhouettes of two doves with an infinity symbol and the date of Carlos’s death underneath were on my left biceps. A rising sun on my right.

I’d taken over Inktastic after Carlos passed and left me as his sole benefactor.

He’d been my first lover, taking care to not even talk to me about sex until I was sixteen.

It was from Carlos that I’d learned about using protection and the dangers of the club scene.

Whom to trust and whom to keep away from.

He needn’t have worried—I was crazy about him but too afraid to make a move on a man twenty years older than me.

On my eighteenth birthday I kissed him, right here in the shop and I’d known I wouldn’t need to look for anyone else.

Worried I might be missing out on dating guys my own age, Carlos made us wait two years to make sure I was ready to be with him.

No one had ever treated me with such respect and kindness.

Carlos had helped me with my anger and kept me out of the system and on the right path.

We’d only had ten years together before some punk put a bullet in Carlos when he left to make a bank drop of the day’s take.

His death left a hole in my heart and in my life I didn’t intend to ever fill again.

Sex was sex and there for the taking, but I wasn’t about anything permanent anymore.

A kid like me, bounced from home to home since I was born, should’ve known better than to think about believing in forever.

That was for fairy tales. Same as happily ever afters.

The one exception was my brother. Accepting I had someone who gave a damn about me besides Carlos had taken some time, but Grady became the one person I truly trusted. He had no other motive to be with me aside from love.

The day sped by with some quickies and an intricate design I’d started a few weeks earlier—a woman wanting to honor her firefighter husband who’d died from complications due to working on the pile in the aftermath of 9/11.

Wendy had been to the shop for other ink and loved to talk while I worked.

She liked to think she knew me because of that, but I’d perfected the art of listening and not sharing anything personal.

“I met someone,” Wendy told me. “For the first time, I’m ready to think about the future. That’s why I wanted this tattoo. So even if I do marry this new man, I’ll always carry something of Frank with me.”

That brought me out of my intense concentration, and I stopped for a moment. “And he doesn’t mind?”

Wendy’s eyes teared up. “No. He understands you can have more than one love in a lifetime. And that moving on doesn’t mean forgetting the past but learning from it.”

“I never was the best student.” Only Carlos and Grady had tried to teach me the things that mattered—love and family. Things I still struggled with on the daily.

A line bisected Wendy’s forehead, and to my shock, she put her hand on my arm. “You own a business. Obviously, something went right.”

I forced a smile. “You’re too much of an optimist. It’s killing my vibe.”

“You’re being foolish,” she huffed.

Without answering, I picked up my instrument. I finished as much as I thought she could take for the first part of the design, and she made a follow-up appointment. By that time, the shop was closing, and Ambrose and I began our cleanup, sterilizing the equipment and putting away the inks.

When Ambrose and I had met at juvie, we’d formed a bond of friendship that only two kids lost in the system could forge.

I’d asked Carlos to hire him, and God knew I’d needed him after Carlos was killed.

Without asking, Ambrose had stepped in and taken care of everything for the months I’d been lost in a fog of anger and pain.

He and Grady had helped bring me back to life.

After so many years together, we had our system down and we worked seamlessly.

Jodi had joined us three years ago and brought her clients from a Brooklyn shop that had closed.

She specialized in what we called sweet designs and a lighter aesthetic, which I hoped would bring in new clientele.

We were doing okay, but every month the shop teetered on a thin line between running in the black and sliding toward red, and it freaked me out.

Backpack in hand, Ambrose bumped my fist. “Catch you later. Have a good one.” Ambrose didn’t come in on weekends—Jodi did, plus Mondays and Tuesdays. I was at the shop all the fucking time. Kept me busy, out of trouble, and out of my head.

“See ya.”

Another hour, and I closed the shop. My apartment, which had been Carlos’s that he’d deeded to me in his will, was off St. Mark’s and a quick stroll home.

I showered and put on my club attire—black leather pants with a matching vest and no shirt underneath.

A couple of silver chains and rings, and I was done.

The buzzer sounded, and I peered at the video camera—we’d had it installed after a slew of push-in robberies and a rape. Grady stood in his suit and tie, and I hit the button to let him in.

“Dude, you’re sharp.” He smirked, and I snickered.

“And you look like a fuckin’ lawyer. Lose the suit and tie, man. You’re gonna drive away potentials. Guys are gonna think I’m with my PO.”

Brown eyes twinkling, he snorted. “You’re an ass. I’m not there to pick up a date. I have my woman.”

“I know a few dudes who wouldn’t mind showing you around the world.”

Grady was a handsome guy, big and muscular, with tattoos up and down his arms. The lines etched on his face gave the impression that he’d seen it all but had made it through the fire.

“I’ve already had that offer from a friend of a friend. Plus, I think Lauren might have a problem with that.”

“Ready?” I slid my wallet, phone, and keys into my pockets. “It’s only a few blocks away.”

Side by side, we walked to the club, and I could see the line outside the door. I gave my passes to the bouncer, and he checked his list and nodded.

“Go on in.”

A wail of protests rose from behind us as he lifted the rope and we walked in past the waiting hopefuls. I recognized a few regulars from other places I frequented. About to step inside, I heard the murmur of a deep voice.

“Now that’s an ass I’d like to grab.”

I peered at the crowd to see who’d spoken. Dark, messy hair fell over a pair of laughing blue eyes. A sexy smile curved full lips. The man’s gaze grew heated as I contemplated his words and allowed myself a slow grin.

“Find me inside, and we’ll see if we can make it happen.”

I left him and spotted Grady near the entrance waiting for me.

“What happened?” he yelled over the pounding music. “I thought I lost you.”

“Just checking out the scenery.”

Amused, Grady knocked my shoulder with his. “Come on, lover boy. Let’s get a drink.”

We were given a table in the VIP area, and Grady ordered a bottle of vodka. The space was packed, but I saw my client behind one of the bars, sipping what I knew was club soda, since he didn’t drink.

“I’m gonna go say hi to Jeff. Wanna come?” I stood and waited for Grady.

“No, I’m good, thanks.”

“I bet you are, honey.” A willowy, pale blond in a harness passing by, stopped in his tracks and bent down. “Wanna show me?”

Grady chuckled. “Thanks, but I’m just here for him.”

Disappointment clouded the blond’s face. “Well, if you decided to make it a threesome, come find me.” He wiggled away.

“I’m tellin’ you…” I winked, and Grady snorted.

“Go find a hottie.”

I weaved through the crowd and caught Jeff’s eye. He waved me over and hugged me. He’d been coming to the shop to get his ink even before I’d met Carlos.

“Lemme get you a drink.” He ordered me a vodka on the rocks. “It’s been a long fuckin’ week.”

“Same, dude. Same.”

Drink in hand, I scanned the floor, checking out the scene, and picked out a few guys I wouldn’t mind getting naked with, but it looked more like a banking convention than a gay dance club.

“You got a lot of suits in here tonight. What’s going on?”

Jeff laughed. “Sorry. I know that’s not your type. But the Gay Lawyers’ Guild was having an annual meeting, and I couldn’t say no.”

“Not saying no can be trouble.” I cackled. “I can attest to that.”

“Is that so?” The voice at my shoulder had me peering to the right, and I found myself once again caught by those blue eyes I’d seen outside. “Does that mean you’ll say yes to me?”