Chapter Nine
Keston
I opened the shop on Friday, still smiling from Grady’s early morning text.
It’s almost the fucking weekend. Smile and get ready to party.
“You are such a dork, brother.” I snickered to myself and flicked on the lights.
I didn’t plan to stay long at Grady’s little get-together—cutesy parties weren’t my vibe. But for Grady, I’d suffer through it. With Carlos gone, he was the only constant in my life, the only one I could truly count on.
I checked the computer and was satisfied to see a fully booked workday ahead.
And not only today—we were booked into the next month.
The social media accounts Bailey had suggested were bringing positive results, and along with the new-client special, now prominently displayed on our sidewalk sign every day, the demand had doubled relative to the previous week.
Ambrose had hinted that if things kept up, we could even expand, but I shut that down real quick.
Carlos had wanted one spot only, and I agreed with him.
I wanted to be confident that every design we placed on someone’s body met my exacting standards, and I couldn’t do that without seeing the art in person.
Ambrose strolled in. “Morning.”
“Hey.” I sipped my coffee. “How’s it going?”
“Good.” He set his backpack on the table. “I am so ready for the weekend.”
“Sounds like someone has plans.” When Ambrose didn’t answer me, I crossed my arms. “What’s goin’ on?”
“Carly and I have appointments to look at houses.”
“Cool. Where?”
His gaze shifted to the floor, and I knew something was up. I set my cup on the counter and waited.
“Uh, Florida.”
Shock, anger, and betrayal traveled through me like a live electrical wire, but I refused to let him see it.
“Long commute,” was all I said, and picked up my coffee.
“Look, it’s not what you think,” Ambrose started to explain. “Carly has family there, and she wants to see what’s available. That’s all.”
“Yeah, sure. Of course. I know you love it here.”
“I do. You know that. I’m not movin’, Keston. I’m doin’ it for Carly. I told you we’re looking for a house, and that means gettin’ married, buying a place… You know how it is.”
“Not really. That’s why I make my own rules. Nobody’s gonna tell me what to do.” I paused. “Or where I can live.”
Red-faced, Ambrose grew agitated. “And I said I’m not movin’. Dammit, Keston. You know you’re my best friend. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
I didn’t mean to piss him off, but if he was going to bounce on me, I’d like to have a little notice. After everything we’d been through together, was Ambrose gonna leave?
“Chill, dude. If you say you’re not, I gotta believe you.”
“And yet you don’t. I see it in your eyes.”
He stomped across the store to his space, and I moved to mine. Usually we talked as we set up, a routine we’d honed over so many years of working together, but today we remained silent. I couldn’t stop thinking that Ambrose’s days here were numbered and he had one foot out the door.
I took out the disinfectant wipes and turned on the autoclave to sterilize the equipment.
When I’d first come to work for Carlos, I’d never thought about the business side of tattooing.
All I’d been interested in was creating designs.
My first had trended dark—I’d specialized in the reaper—but once Carlos and I got together, I was able to work past the ugliness and fear of the life I’d left behind.
I gave myself permission to experience beauty and happiness in my creations.
All that I was, I credited to Carlos and the love and faith he’d had in me.
His death had killed that joy, and I refused to let any light in.
“What’re you doin’ this weekend?” Having worked out his anger on cleaning his chair, Ambrose decided to speak to me again.
“Nothing much. Grady’s having a housewarming party—he bought an apartment in Brooklyn—so I’ll stop by, then work as usual.”
“Man, you gotta get a life. All work and no play and all that jazz.”
“Mmm,” was my only response. I wouldn’t mind some playtime, and I debated texting Bailey but held off.
If he wasn’t invited, I’d feel weird, but I wasn’t about to ask Grady and give him the wrong idea that I was interested in Bailey and wanted to see him.
Even though I did. I’d play it by ear—if he was at the party, maybe I wouldn’t be going home alone.
My first client was a newbie, a woman around thirty who flashed me a nervous smile. “I saw your new-client special on Instagram. I’ve never had a tattoo.”
I put on my caring face. “Don’t worry. It’s probably best to start with something small so you can see if you’re okay with it. Do you have an idea of what you want?”
She nodded and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I want to get something representing my dog. She’s my best friend. I was thinking a heart with her face inside.”
“That might be a little too intense for a first tattoo. Maybe something simple?” I thought for a moment. “What about a paw print with her name underneath?”
“Ooh, I like that.”
“All right. Where do you want it?”
She bit her lip. “Where do most people get them?”
I shrugged. “It depends. On the shoulder, the wrist, or ankle is always a popular choice. But the skin on the ankle is thinner, so you might feel it more than say, on your shoulder.”
“Uh, okay. I still think the ankle is best. Her name is Maggie.”
“All right, then. Have a seat, and I’ll work up the stencil.”
A steady stream of clients kept us busy past lunchtime. We finally took a break and ordered in sushi. Of course, Ambrose started in again about his brother.
“Listen, dude. Maybe you can ask your brother to take another look at Lucas’s case.”
“I dunno, man. It’s a party—”
“There’s always some excuse,” Ambrose snapped, and I quirked a brow at his anger.
“I already told you I would, but we really haven’t been in a conducive setting.”
“Conducive setting? What the fuck kind of lawyer double-speak is that?” Ambrose sputtered. “You been hanging out with the college boys too much, I’m thinkin’.”
The door opened, and fuck if Bailey didn’t walk in. In a sleek gray suit and those black-rimmed glasses, he had an undeniably corporate vibe, and the truth was, I liked it. The guy was hot as fuck.
I got to my feet. “What’re you doing here?”
“Hello to you too. I had a client in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by.” He waited to be introduced to Ambrose, who remained stiff, eyes narrowed with mistrust.
“Uh, this is my coworker, Ambrose. Ambrose, this is Bailey Marks. He’s a friend of Grady’s.”
Bailey arched a brow as if to say, Oh, so that’s how we’re going to handle it?
“Nice to meet you, Ambrose.”
“Yeah.” Ambrose hopped off his chair. “I got stuff to do.” Without saying good-bye, he gave us his back and left us alone.
“What’s his problem?” Bailey asked.
“Nothing. You never answered my question. Why’re you here?” I could see Ambrose shooting me disbelieving looks that I was talking to “a suit.”
“Are you going to Grady’s party?”
I fought against a grin. “Yeah. Are you?” Why did I hope he’d say yes?
Because you want him again. You’d do him right now if Ambrose wasn’t here.
Heat rose in his big blue eyes behind those frames, as if he’d read my dirty thoughts.
“I was invited but wasn’t sure. Now it’s a definite yes.” He adjusted his glasses. “Maybe we can get together after?” he murmured.
The door opened, and my next client walked in.
“I gotta go. But yeah.”
“See you then.” He left, and I couldn’t help sneaking a peek at that fabulous ass. Damn, he looked as good in a suit as he did naked.
My next job was for a long-standing client, and this time he wanted the constellation of his birth sign. “I’m a Libra. That’s balance.” He handed me a picture. “Something that looks like this.”
“I know. I’ll work something up and be right back.”
Ambrose was at his desk, putting the finishing touches on a complicated stencil, but he lifted his head to pierce me with a beady eyeball.
“What did that guy want?”
I took a piece of transfer paper for my design and pretended not to understand. “Who?”
“That fucking lawyer. What did he want?”
I raised a shoulder. “Nothing. He’s a friend of Grady’s, was passing by the shop, and stopped in to say hello.
” No way could I tell Ambrose I’d hooked up with Bailey.
Not that I needed his approval, but I didn’t want to hurt him either.
He had such blind hatred of lawyers and the legal system, so it was better this way.
In the long run, Ambrose was my friend, and Bailey was just another guy.
**
I walked into Grady’s new apartment and whistled low. “Dude, you leveled up. This is a nice spot.”
His face bright, Grady hugged me. “I wasn’t sure you were gonna make it. Busy at work?” He handed me a beer.
“Yeah. Nonstop.” I held out my hand and wiggled my fingers. “They hurt like a bitch.”
Grady’s lips curved over the bottle top. “I bet I know someone who’ll be happy to give you a massage. Anywhere you want, I’m thinking—if you ask him nicely.”
My cheeks grew hot, and I rolled my eyes. “Shut up.” But that didn’t stop me from sneaking a look around the apartment, spotting Bailey talking to a group of Grady’s friends.
“Jesus, is there anyone here besides me who isn’t a damn lawyer?” I grumbled. “It’s giving me hives.”
“Maybe stop boxing people into versions of who you think they are and learn to get to know them as human beings instead of judging them by their professions. You might find you have more in common with them than you think.”