Snickering, I watch them head out the front, straight to Seth’s car in the parking lot. I’m still waiting for mine to get finished. Even though most of the damage was cosmetic, waiting for replacement parts is a bitch. Turning toward Atlas, I find him staring atme.
“So,” I start. “I need a favor.”
“I’m not piercing your dick.”
I choke on air as I laugh at his serious facial expression. “That’s fine because I don’t want you touching my dick, thank you very much.”
“Okay. Good. What do you want?”
“Wait, why the hell would you think I wanted my dick pierced?”
Atlas shrugs. “Apparently it feels... good for other people...” He trails off.
Well shit. Now I’m kind of thinking about it. But if I do that, then I’m out of commission for six weeks. I can’t wait that long, and honestly, I don’t think Mila will either.
“I need your help.”
“I told you I’d help you put your shit back together. I want this done.”
I know he’s right. We do need to get everything back together, and before their wedding, but there’s something else more pressing.
“We will, but first, a favor.”
An hour passes before Seth and Rhett return. They at least have the decency to bring back some stuff for Atlas and me. When they walk into the shop and see me sitting in Atlas’ chair, they freeze.
“I didn’t realize we were open for business.” Seth looks between the two of us.
“We aren’t,” I agree. “But Atty boy here owed me one, and it was the perfect time to collect.”
“I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen,” Atlas deadpans as he sits at my side, machine in hand.
“Oh God, what did you do, Kash?” Rhett looks at the piece Atlas is nearly finished with. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yep.” I grin broadly.
“I don’t even want to know how you got that.” He shakes his head.
“Got what?” Seth takes a step closer to look.
When he catches sight of it, he rolls his eyes. That’s okay. He acts like he doesn’t have tattoos for someone he thinks we don’t know about, but he does, and we do. Hypocrite.
“I will accept zero criticism,” I tell them, then wince a bit as Atlas digs in on one of the longer lines. Neck tattoos definitely aren’t for the weak, but that's okay. It just means everyone will be able to see how taken I am.
“I swear you’ve got a screw loose in your head. Are you sure Bri didn’t actually hit you with that bat?” Rhett jokes.
Scowling at him, I hold up my middle finger. “No. I know what I’m doing.”
Atlas remains quiet as he works. Before we started, he looked at me, then at the design, saying, “This is permanent, you know.” As if there were any issues with that. I know what I want, and Mila is it. I don’t care what anyone thinks, only her.
“So, what’s your next steps?” Rhett gestures toward me. “Get this tattoo, then go meet her parents?”
“We already met her parents, dummy,” I point out.
“Yeah, but that was just as Cora’s co-workers, not as the guy who’s trying to get in their daughter’s pants.”
Atlas stops and wipes a section of my neck. Taking that moment, I turn and level Rhett with a glare. He thinks he’s so funny. “I will beat your ass into next week if you talk about Mila like that again,” I warn.
He looks at Seth, then Atlas, looking for help, but he won’t find any from either of them. Atlas already thinks I’m crazy, and Seth keeps his opinions to himself now, mostly.
