Chapter
Four
Griff covers me over and I smile as he takes a quick glance at the other guys making their way into the room, and I lean back, lifting my arm above my head. “So, you want several small blue roses here?” He rubs his hand over my skin just under the base of my bra across the left-hand side of my rib cage. “And then,nothing is impossiblewritten over it, in his handwriting from this?” He lifts up the small note that I gave him when I got here, my Grandad gave it to me when I said I wanted to be a photographer.
I nod and smile. “Yes please.” My head spins to my right when I hear what sounds like a quiet growl. The guy sitting in the other chair is looking at me trying to hold in a laugh, while the guy leaning against the table is full-on laughing, his head dipped down. The other guy is sat next to the chair, his hands gripping the tattoo gun, his eyes laser-focused on the other guy's skin. I shake my head and then turn back to Griff, who just smirks and then grabs his wipe, cleaning the spot where my new tattoo is going.
We all sit in complete silence apart from the buzzing of the tattoo guns for twenty minutes. The constant pricking of my skingiving me a feeling of comfort as I lie there thinking about the letter that sitting in the glove box of my Mini Cooper unopened.
“Hey, Flex.” Griff pauses to refill the ink in his gun, grabbing my attention. “So, you should come to the clubhouse tonight. We’re having a BBQ, all the families will be there. And I know the girls would like to see you.”
The buzzing from the other gun has stopped and for a brief moment there’s silence until Griff starts his up again. “Thanks, but another time maybe.”
“Do you have other plans?”
“No. Not tonight I don’t.”
“Then come.” He pauses giving me a small smile. “Bring your Dad, it’s been a while since he was last in for a tattoo.”
I grab the bottle of water I brought with me, taking a large drink to try and quell the dry mouth I have. I replace the cap and rest the bottle against my hip.
“He’s actually out of town for a while. He said it would be back in about four days.” I swallow back the impending tears that threaten to make an appearance. I do not want to cry in front of Griff. I do not want to cry in front of these men.
“I will let him know he’s due for a new tattoo when I speak to him later though.” I offer him a cheeky smile; he doesn’t need to know the reason Dad hasn’t been for one is that he’s been working and taking care of grandad for the last two years.
“So, Blondie,” the guy leaning against the table yells over. He’s tall, a little over six feet maybe. His hair is jet black and trimmed short, with shaved sides. His eyes are oddly a bright blue. He’s got a decent tan, but it makes him look older than I actually think he is despite his clean-shaven look giving him a baby face. He has tattoos, but not as many as the other two guys, there aren’t any on his hands or neck, and he only has one sleeve on his right arm. The left one stops just below the sleeve of his t-shirt. He does like piercings, he has those gauges in his ears,they aren’t very big, but they aren’t the ones where you can see right through. His right ear has several more studs running up the side of it and on his left, he has his tragus pierced, his helix in two places and an orbital conch. Both his nostrils are pierced and both eyebrows. He also has his bottom lip pierced on the left-hand side. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, and I see his tongue is also pierced, as he bites his lip piercing, pulling it into his mouth.
I raise an eyebrow as I glance back at his eyes.
“Brick.” He indicates to himself. “Why do they call you Flex?”
I sigh then look at Griff, who just chuckles. “Actually Brick, my name is Marissa. Flex is a dumb arse nickname Griff gave me when we were teenagers.”
“Hold up.” He stands taller, walking around the backs of both chairs and in between them and pulling a stool right up to the side of the chair I’m in.
“Brick.” There’s a warning tone from the guy in the other chair, and I glance over to see both him and the other artist watching Brick. He glances behind him, laughs then looks back to me.
“This degenerate in the chair is my Prez Knuckles. And the angry looking fucker tattooing him is my Sergeant at Arms, Wrath.” I let my eyes roam over them both. Knuckles, like Brick has blue eyes, but his hair is a dirty blond, tied in a short ponytail at the back. He has his lip pierced and his right earlobe but nothing else, that I can see. He has a few more tattoo’s than Brick, both arms are covered in sleeves, his shoulders, neck and part of his torso. He has a tattoo snaking inside the waist of his jeans, but I can’t make out what it is.
The guy tattooing him, Wrath, is pretty tall from what I could gauge out on the front when I arrived. His hair is brown, short on the sides, with a little more length on the top. Enough to run his hand through it, which I’ve noticed he’s done several timessince I arrived. Everywhere I can see he has tattoos. His arms and hands are both covered, his neck at the sides and back are both covered, the front still has some space, but I can see under his tight as fuck white t-shirt part of his stomach is tattooed and part of his right side, and across his right pec His left one is completely clear. I look at his face, and the breath catches in my throat when I see him watching me, his golden-brown eyes fixed on my face then drops to my mouth as I dip out my tongue and lick my bottom lip, I’m suddenly really thirsty again. And I feel really hot under his stare. I smile then look back to Brick, feeling a little less intimidated by him than I do Wrath or Knuckles.
“So, you were just about to tell us how you got the nickname. And feel free to drop any embarrassing stories about Griff if you have them.” He gives me a cheeky grin and I giggle turning back to Griff and raising an eyebrow.
“Griff and I, were…” I don’t know how to answer this. While I have no objection to being open, Griff likes to keep his private life, private. I glance to him to see his reaction. But he beats me to the response.
“Flex and I dated for a while when we were teenagers. And her nickname comes from the fact, that she’s, erm… well, she’s pretty flexible.” He gives me a wink, then continues with my tattoo.
I hear a clearing of a throat behind me, and I turn to see Wrath throw his tattoo gun down onto the table, then stand from his stool. He adjusts himself before glancing at me then the guys. “I need some fucking air,” he declares. The guys laugh as we all watch him storm out through the front of the building.
Chapter
Five
Jesus fuck. I’m overreacting. I’ve known that chick for all of ten seconds, what the fuck is wrong with me? I lean back, tipping my head against the wall, lifting my boot up resting the flat part on the wall, and fold my arms across my chest. My head swings to the side when I hear the bell on the door go. Sighing I turn my head back. “Don’t,” I bite out as Knuckles takes up the spot on the wall next to me.
“Never said a word, brother.” He copies my stance but doesn’t say anything else. We stay like that in silence for ten minutes, before he finally breaks it. “She got under your skin from one look?”
I huff out a laugh, pushing off the wall I walk toward my bike then perch sideways on the seat. Looking back over to my brother I shrug my shoulders at him like a fucking schoolboy.
