“You don’t even know who I am, do you?” Her tone is icy, angry.
“Nope,” I say with a look on my face that says I’m at peace with my answer. No worry about her feelings, or that I’ve ‘lost my chance with her’. I dip my machine into the black ink and turn it on, the familiar, comforting vibration in my hand telling me I’m about to create a piece of art, even if it’s on someone I don’t care for. “Ready?”
“Let’s get it over with,” she snaps and looks forward, her whole demeanor shifting from ‘fuck me’, to ‘fuck you’.
And I can finally breathe easier.
With that I get to work. I get maybe fourty-five seconds in and this chick grumbles and turns to look at me.
“So, what, I was just some hookup?”
I breathe in deeply through my nose, but don’t stop tattooing. I want this chickout of here.
“We hooked up maybe six months ago and I haven’t called, or texted you. Yeah, it was a hookup,” I say the words plainly, not hiding behind anything.
“That’s a dick move.”
I give one burst of humorless laughter and shake my head. “You didn’t seem to complain until you walked in here thinking you could act like a bitch and that I’d fall over myself for you. When, in reality, I don’t even remember your name.”
“You motherfucker,” she snarls, and I take it. I’m a dick and I know it, but I’m not going to hide it. Especially when this little temper tantrum has the possibility to ruin the only thing I’ve ever wanted. Roxie.
“Do you want the tattoo or not?” I ask, giving her one last out.
“Just do it.”
“Good.” I nod and get back to work.
In silence.
Time passes quickly as I’m able to get the whole outline done, before trouble starts brewing.
I see Roxie’s head peak from the door to the backroom and my attention immediately goes to where she’s standing. My breath catches slightly at the sight of her and I hide a smile that she’s here.She’s here.
“What are you smiling at?” the bitchy girl under my hands snaps at me, and my smile drops immediately. Fuck.
Roxie looks around, looking for something, but her eyes land on mine and she smiles.She actually fucking smiles and it takes my breath away.
“Oh god, who is that?” The girl I shall start calling Bitchy Bessie in my head, scoffs when Roxie walks out from the backroom and to the bathroom.
“That’smygirl,” I declare proudly. The words sounding so fucking good coming from my mouth.
“That’syour girl? That beat up tramp?” Bessie rolls her eyes, shaking her head as my entire fucking body goes taunt with tension.
She doesn’t get it. Doesn’t feel it. Because she just keeps fucking talking.
“I didn’t think you were quitethatphysical, Ty. I guess I didn’t get the ‘fighter special’.” She gives me this disgusting half-nose scrunch, half-pitying smirk, like she’s discovered what she’s going to do. And I grip the machine in my hand a little harder.
“Shut the fuck up,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Or what?” She scoffs, speaking louder, just as Roxie leaves the bathroom. “Are you going to hit me? I might have let you do that when you were railing me, might have made it better. Apparently you like that.”
“Excuse me?” Roxie snaps, her eyes finding mine quickly. I fight my instinct to shut down and throw my guard up, but to try and show her that there’s nothing she needs to worry about with this bitch. “Whatthe fuckdid you just say?”
Bessie smiles sinisterly, like she’s gotten the fight she wanted.
“I said, that when he was fucking me, I’d probably have let him hit me had I known he would get off on that, but it looks likeyouare getting the beatings outside of the bedroom, too.”
I swear to god, everything in the shop pauses. Everything just…stops. I see Asher sitting upright; not even pretending to work and watching the drama unfold, the client on his table looking at what’s happening with both eyes open.
