He seems surprised by my asking, but not in a bad way. “Yeah? For sure I will. I am partial to where we put Cans. Place has security. Beautiful grounds with little streams and stuff.” He runs his hands through his hair and looks around the studio. Asa and Otto both are busy and tuned out with clients. Jen has the day off and Raleigh is painting his nails at the front desk, helping on Kellan’s day off. “There’s a spot there, it’s kids only. I don’t know, it has a vibe to it that’s peaceful. I walk through it a lot when I go see Candey and it’s busy near her grave. There’s some awesome beautiful spots in the children’s part. It’s a cemetery so it’s still fucking depressing, but it’s special somehow.”
I nod, understanding, and push back the sick feeling that the word cemetery brings. “I want to do a service for her, but I don’t know if that’s a thing or whatever? If I ever get the chance to bury her I have a mausoleum by my ma.”
He nods when he sees the emotion come over me. To even talk about a service for my baby makes me equal parts sick and at peace. I feel his hand on my neck and he squeezes it a few times in understanding. “First off, who gives a fuck if it’s a thing or not? If that’s what needs to happen, I’ll be damned if it doesn’t happen. Second, whatever we gotta do to make it happen, we will. The studio will back you up and so will the band. We are family, Sully, and Kace is one of us. If we gotta buy land, we will buy the land, but we will give her what she deserves. Trust me, yeah?”
I nod and step from the booth masking my emotions like I always do from the world, and look to the door as the AC/DC bells toll letting us know a client is coming in. I see the gorgeous brunette that haunts my dreams lately, holding Rylie in one arm and Axe’s hand in the other.
Mya.
My mind flickers like old photos on a projector of her clit glistening seconds before I licked it. Her and I singing as we danced on a crowded sidewalk. Shots. A ton ofPatronshots. Fuck. Since that night, I only drank Tequila because the taste reminds me of her drunken kisses that night.
I keep her in my distant memory because of the feeling I get when she is near me.
“Hey…” I feel awkward and unsure of how to act. This is my business and everything about it is my brand. I am not Sully in my everyday life. I don’t dress in hipster clothes or kiss ass to a bunch of dudes wanting tribal tats, or the generics that want a butterfly. In my real life, I answer to myself and nobody else. My opinions, actions, and way of life, portray nothing of my shop. Mya is the one person who met Sully, but almost fucked Sam. She knows the difference between the two, though not fully, and that shit is terrifying.
Seeing her here in this world… confuses my two ego’s. Remain professional, says Sully. Fucking go caveman on her here and now, says Sam.
FuckingBruce Bannershit, I know.
“Mya is here as your four thirty,” Ral says, and takes Rylie to coo over and let’s Axe up on his lap to play with his phone.
I don’t remember seeing her on my books or having a damn clue about her being tattooed today, by anyone for that matter, but I recall inviting her to get tattooed by me. I walk over not saying a word, and remove the appointment book and Ral from the computer. “Ral, take the kids back to the chill room,” I say, dismissing him as I try to find Mya on my schedule.
I see it and roll my eyes before looking at her. “Amyah D? That ring any bells?” I ask, creeped a little by the fake name shit and want to know what she’s playing at because this isn’t the place to do it.
“Yeah. Amyah is my first name. Mya is my nickname, and few know that. I knew Cal would be picking the kids up before my appointment as well. Not knowing who answered the phone when I called, I made the appointment as Amyah D, not Dorian or Mya, per my brothers request.”
Feeling like the sex goddess schooled me, I nod, but don’t apologize or make excuses. My shop, my rules. “Cool. Follow me to my booth and we can draw up what you’d like.”
I am trying to be cool, professional, but seeing her does something to me and all I want to do is taste her again.
She is a fucking virgin who will want you to love her back dickface. Move on.
I try to tell myself it’s all bullshit, but it really isn’t. Mya wasn’t a nobody to me. It has been years since I had a night like we did in DC. I had fun, and for once I forgot to mourn in my guilt. I laughed, danced, and had fun. It was short lived, but it happened. Treating her like a mistake now wasn’t fair.
She follows me to the booth as I watch Ral take the kids back to play. “You guys all got the counter since Ral’s in back?” I yell to my crew who all agree to help. Noah follows us in and grabs the line drawing he just used on me before Mya can see it.
“Hey. Thanks for the ink, my man. Wanna do that thing after I finish up here then?”
Noah looks at me for a split second confused, before realizing for whatever reason I don’t want Mya to know my past. “Yeah. I’m done for the day, so whenever, shoot me a text and I will let Ral and Bright know.”
He then looks to Mya. “You’re in good hands sweetie,” he says, and kisses her on top of the head. She is everyone’s little sister because she is Cal’s. No different than Carrie is to us all because of Noah.
Only, I don’t crave Carrie. No, there is nothing familial or innocent where it comes to Mya. I want to be balls deep and sweaty with her.
“Cal or Jen on their way to get the kids?” He asks, small talk so easy between them. Meanwhile, I’m over here sweating.
“They both are. I took them for the day with mom.”
He nods and looks back to me with suspicion, but says nothing. “Cool. See ya in a while, Sam.”
“Yep,” I say, keeping my focus on the drawing table where I have yet to draw anything for her. I take a deep breath and close my eyes to shove down the emotional shit brewing in my chest before I spin and roll toward the tattoo bed.
“I love this song,” she says, and does this weird move with her hips to the beat ofPost Malone’s, ‘Go Flex’, as she mouths the line ‘It’s never enough, cup after cup, blunt after blunt.’“Sorry, habit. I warm up toPost Malone,so it’s natural.”
I pull her by the wrist toward the table to sit. “Don’t apologize for being yourself. Smile like the Joker when they look at you and move on.”
She smiles sweetly and sits handing me a small piece of paper with a butterfly on it as she puts a single headphone in her ear. “So, a butterfly?” I ask in disbelief. Looking at the work on her, it shocks me she would pick the most generic, yet still popular thing to be tattooed on her.
