Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Kash
Pulling into the shop, I take a minute to admire our building. Exiled Ink seemed like a pipe dream for four guys who came from different backgrounds and were abandoned to the system.
Emma, our foster mom, took us in and didn’t bat an eyelash as she picked up the slack of our parents.
Sure, there was plenty of eye-rolling and glaring, but I have no doubt my dad would be relieved I landed with a person like her.
She may have raised her voice on occasion, but she never raised her hands at us.
The red brick building stands out among some of the other little cutesy shoppes, but it feels like home. I know my dad would be proud. I don’t think he’d have chosen this path for me, but knowing I’m happy would be the most important thing to him.
There’s one large front window, and of course the glass of our black shop door, but that’s it.
The door is smack in the middle, and to the right of that is our sign.
Exiled Ink Tattoo. Damn, she’s pretty. I didn’t want our logo to be a total cliché, but we all put a piece of ourselves into that sign.
We spent hours, shit, weeks, slaving over that design until we finally came up with one we agreed on.
Above the words Exiled Ink is a skull sporting a broken crown, with a black crow to the side.
A tattoo machine rests at an angle, and vines hold it altogether, squeezing it in.
Atlas has vine tattoos; Rhett is obsessed with crows and how a group of them is a murder.
Seth wanted the broken crown, and I rounded it out with the skull. Every tattoo shop should have a skull.
Skulls always made me think about my mortality. After losing both parents as young as I did, I chose to live life for me... just not the way my mom did.
I am responsible for my decisions, and I know they can affect the people around me. Which is why I stay honest with women. I don’t mess with relationships, and I take care of myself. What good is having a life if you aren’t living?
Heading through the parking lot, I make a mental checklist of things that still need to be done.
There are emails to respond to, and, of course, payroll.
Bri left us in a bit of a lurch for the front, and maybe that’s partially my fault, but I really thought we were on the same page about the whole non-relationship thing.
The way Atlas glares a hole through my head every day makes me think maybe I’m partially at fault.
He’s had to take on some of the admin tasks because he drew the short straw, and even though he’s the grumpiest of us, next to Seth of course, he’s really good at the business side of things. Smart fucker.
Silence greets me as I open the door to our shop. I take a minute to look at what we’ve accomplished and welcome the familiar feeling of pride. We’ve been open for a few years now, but it never gets old to see everything we’ve accomplished.
Our work and designs adorn the walls, and each of us has our own stations and booths.
The floors are dark hardwood, and we all agreed on a gray color for the walls.
The artwork was going to be the focal point anyway.
We’ll never be rich, but we have each other, and I’ll never tell them the truth, but after my dad died, and my mom left, I didn’t think I’d ever have a family again.
I love those assholes, and Emma of course.
Turning on the shop’s music, I switch it from Seth’s station to mine. A mix of EDM and rock blasts through the speakers. Bobbing my head to the song, I fire up the computer and get ready to check our schedule for the day. I’ve got some great pieces coming up.
I have an appointment in a bit, and Seth should be here soon. Maybe he can help me pull applications for someone to hire. Hopefully, it will lessen Atlas’ desire to glare at me. Doubtful, but a guy can dream.
I promised them I’m done with women for now. Bri has turned crazy and still shows up at my place whenever she wants. I’m starting to think I might have to file a restraining order, but the guys think it’s over-the-top. There’s something off about her.
Last week she stopped by my apartment to bring me dinner.
She tried to cut past me twice until I finally got her to leave.
My next-door neighbor is a cop, and when she heard the shouting, she came out to check on me.
Bri whirled around like she was going to explode until she saw Cassie in her uniform and decided against it.
Smart girl. I have no doubt Cassie could toss my ass to the ground faster than I could say, “Freeze!” so Bri wouldn’t stand a chance against her.
Browsing through a few applications, I attempt to be helpful and find some candidates that are good.
There’s a lot of questionable people out there, and we can’t have just anyone working the counter.
We don’t need someone covered in tattoos and piercings, but we should still have someone who can handle both us and the customers.
There’s always some person who gets their tattoo and has instant remorse or suddenly feels like it should have been a bit smaller or larger. News flash: tattoos are permanent.
The bell above the shop door chimes, and Seth walks in with Rhett.
“’Sup, fuckers. Didn’t know you were coming in early, Rhett,” I welcome them in typical fanfare.
Rolling his eyes, Seth nods at me in greeting while Rhett stops at the desk. “What are you doing? Looking for your next victim?”
“Funny.” I scowl at him. “For your information, I was pulling some applications. I promised Atty boy I’d help him find a replacement.”
“You mean because you fucked up by fucking Bri?”
Geeze. When he puts it like that, it makes me feel like I did something wrong.
“There’s nothing wrong with what Bri and I had.
I told her I wasn’t interested in a relationship, and when I wouldn’t put a label on us after one night, she went nuts.
You know what it’s been like.” I had to hide at Rhett’s for two days afterwards because even after she tried to cut into my apartment, she kept camping out there.
“You really believe that, don’t you?”
“Believe what?”
His dark brown eyes lift in surprise. “That she was fine with the whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing. She was really into you.”
“So, it’s my fault she went postal, caused a scene in the shop and quit?” I ask, feeling defensive. We weren’t even in a relationship, and somehow the end is still my fault. Figures.
“I’m just saying. Maybe you should give the girls thing a rest for a while.”
I stare at him in disbelief. I already told them I am.
“Never mind.” He shakes his head and walks away.
“I can stay away from girls!” I shout at his retreating form.
“Yeah. And Atlas is the happiest guy on staff,” he hollers back.
Folding my arms over my chest, I stare at the computer in front of me.
I don’t even see anything on the screen.
My mind is replaying the entire conversation with Rhett.
Who is he to judge me? He doesn’t have any luck with women.
They all act like women are the enemy, and while I don’t see them as the enemy, I know my limits.
My dad loved my mom. He loved everything about her. I grew up watching them dance in the kitchen to the radio, and him bringing her flowers just because, but where did it get him?
Buried alone, his wife moving on before the ground firmed up.
Sure, his death is what actually caused that, but it wasn’t enough—he wasn’t enough—for her to stick around and cherish his memory more than five damn minutes.
If their relationship didn’t last, why would one work for me?
I’m young, and yeah, I probably can’t do this forever, but what’s the harm in playing the field?
I’m always honest, and I take care of the girl I’m with, but what about after?
I can’t help but hate the idea of being alone after.
What happens after the first month is over? The first year? Are they still going to want to stick it out with me? Am I enough to make someone stay? Can I make someone else happy enough to want to be around?
Probably. But what about after the first argument? Who’s to say that they won’t cut and run at the first chance when things get hard? All I’ll be left with at that point are the memories of what I had, and the pain and absence of their loss. Fuck that.
I print a chunk of applications for Atlas and shove them into a folder. He can look at them later on when he’s doing invoices or whatever he does in the office. I fulfilled my duty; I have an appointment to get ready for.