Eight
JAMIE
Irespect women; I really, really fucking do. But when women don't respect me and are toeing the line of sexual harassment, my manners start to slip.
"Get your fuckin' tits off my shoulder."
I'm putting some blame on all the gruff biker guys I tattoo. Those men are assholes, and it might be rubbing off on me, but damn are they good to have on hand.
"What do you mean?" I wish the buzzing sound of my gun was loud enough to cover the cringy ass whine coming from the brunette in my chair.
Leaning back removes her unwanted touch, and focusing on patching up her fresh ink helps me ignore the batting of her fake ass eyelashes. I taught myself a long time ago not to judge what other people get tattooed on their bodies, but when young chicks with no sense of self respect waltz in and demand a tattoo I've done a million times for women who look just like her...yeah, holding my judgmentback is hard.
"You may remove the bandage in two hours. Keep it clean, wash with gentle soaps, and Aquaphor is good to keep it from drying out. Any questions you have will most likely be answered in the packet Jake at the front desk will give you when you pay."
The brunette gapes at me like she's shocked I'm not sucking on her pushup bra or some shit.
"Any other questions, you can call the front desk," I continue while I open the door and head out into the lobby.
I know she's following me because I can hear her huffing like a petulant child. Jake makes eye contact with me and smirks. He's young, and I hired him as a favor for the local MC. He's a prospect in need of some real-world work before he starts doing the illegal shit. I have no clue really, but the kid is fucking hilarious and can read people pretty damn well.
Rapping my knuckles on the counter of the desk, I turn to the pouting woman and am about to tell her to have a nice day when a streak of purple and blonde zips by the large windows.
I'm running out and make it onto the sidewalk before I even realize what I'm doing. "Violet?" I yell, rushing to catch up to my girl.
Thankfully, she stops and turns, giving me the time of day. I'm surprised if I'm being painfully honest. I expected to chase her down and demand that she actually speak to me.
I haven't heard from her in a few days, which isn't uncommon, but I miss her damn it.
"Hi, Jamie," she says with, I shit you not, a soft smile on her perfect face.
Is my jaw on the ground? Where's her scowl or sultry look?
"Hi, Sweets," I reply and watch her lips twist a little. This time it's not in annoyance, at least I don't think it is, because she starts shifting on her feet and red rises on her cheeks. "What are you up to today?"
"Um."
Fascinated, I watch Violet struggle to communicate with me. Her hair is down in its usual waves, but she has half of it pulled back in two pigtails that are so damn adorable I can't help but smile. I'd prefer she had a hat on in this cold weather, but I'll just be glad she has her big winter coat and boots on instead. Her jeans are on the baggy side today, and I really,reallywant to know what shirt she's wearing. Not in a sexy way, but because I rarely get to see my girl in normal fucking street clothes.
Like many times I see her around the city, her camera is around her neck. The photos she can take with such a simple device are incredible. I can't imagine her with a ton of material like lenses and tripods—Violet is a minimalist who doesn't like to be dragged down bystuff.
She lifts the camera I was just admiring, and wiggles it at me. "I had an inquiry about dark, more gothic images for their business."
When she shrugs like that's all she's going to say, I lift a brow. "I'm not freezing my ass off out here for minimal answers, Violet. Finish the story."
Frowning down at my thin long sleeve, she takes a step forward as if she's going to warm me up, but ofcourse, we're interrupted. And the touch that grabs my bicep is from the woman I left at the front desk with Jake.
Violet stiffens at the same time I do. "What are you doing?" I growl low while glaring down at the woman who needs a serious come to Jesus moment.
"I wanted to thank you," she purrs, and fucking hell, her jacket plunges to show her cleavage. "You have a lot of skill, Jamie."
My muscles bunch to yank away from the bitch who has no fucking right to touch me. Instead, she pulls away first and struts her ass right by the woman of my dreams with a pleased grin.
"What the fuck?" I rumble, shivering in disgust. I'll need to tell Jake that she is no longer allowed to book with me. Maybe she can be seen by one of the other artists, but with the way she just disrespected Violet,no fucking way.
"Well." Violet snaps me out of my mental note taking with her shaky voice. When I look at her again, I see the slight sheen in her eyes. "I should be going."
"Wait." I rush forward to grab her and ensure she doesn't cry, butfucking Jakeyells my name from our door. "Violet?—"
