Page 14 of Devil Within

“Hello.” She came to stand beside him. He twisted to unhook a helmet from the backrest and held it out to her, and she took it. “What’s this?”

He stared at it for a moment. “Looks like a helmet to me.”

Her cheeks heated, and it had nothing to do with the sunshine.

“If you like the helmet, you’re gonna love this.” He reached inside his vest and pulled out a slim smartphone. “It’s for you.”

Confused, she looked from it to him. “What do you mean it’s for me?”

“I need you to have a phone. It’s a requirement for the job. Because of that, the shop pays for it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Is that the truth, or do you think I’m a charity case?”

He didn’t blink or look away. “Charity for what? Like I said, it’s a requirement.”

The need to argue was strong, but the last thing she wanted to do was jeopardize the job. Plus, she didn’t want to offend a member of a dangerous motorcycle club.

“Okay,” she said, backing down. She shoved the phone in the back pocket of her jeans, then stuck the helmet on, before looking at the pedal to see how she got on.

“Place your foot there,” he said, pointing. “Then swing the other one over.”

She did as instructed and slid in behind him. Not knowing where to place her hands, she gripped his side. He grabbed them and brought them around his waist.

“Hold on,” he told her. He started the bike, backed down the driveway, and then they were off.

At first a little nervous, her excitement soon took over. The wind in her hair, the cool air brushing over her skin. When the bike throttled down the road, it was like catching fire. Exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

Finally, he slowed and turned into a more forgotten area of Cheyenne. A large abandoned factory held many broken windows. Across the street was a strip mall that had a small appliance repair shop, a thrift store, and the tattoo parlor named The Inkpot. He pulled up in front and cut the engine. When he tapped her leg, she dismounted the same way she got on, surprised when her knees were a little shaky. He flipped out the kickstand and got off before pulling off his helmet. She did the same.

“How was your first ride?”

“It was amazing,” she said, enthused. It was the first thing that had made her feel alive in quite a while.

He smiled. “Come on. Let’s open up, and I’ll show you around.”

When he reached for her hand, she unthinkingly allowed it, still riding high on the endorphin rush. It wasn’t until he let go to unlock the front door that she realized she hadn’t freaked out from his touch.

Once inside, he turned off the alarm and flipped on the lights. The tattoo studio had the reception in the front with a half-wall separating it from the four working bays beyond. Examples of tattoos and drawings were over one wall, while the opposite wall had the logo spray-painted on it. Several seats rested by the bay window where a variety of magazines rested.

“I think it’s pretty much explanatory,” he said. “This is the part you’re not going to like.”

He opened the filing cabinet, and sure as shit, receipts and invoices were tossed in haphazardly without rhyme or reason.

“Oh my god,” she muttered. “You weren’t kidding.”

“There’s the appointment book. Today it’s going to be me, and two other artists named Bowie and Apollo. Our fourth artist is Jake, but he’s taking a few days off.”

“Okay.”

“If you look in front of the appointment book, it’ll give a time frame needed for jobs. Small, medium, large. If they bring a drawing or want us to come up with a drawing. Sometimes we’ll pencil in our clients or collaborate with you on time. Stuff like that.”

“You don’t use a computer appointment program?”

“Nah,” he said. “The ledger has always been a little easier because we’re constantly shifting time around. If someone wants a day off, they just mark it in the book.”

“I see,” she murmured. “Well, seems straightforward.”

“Pretty much is. Oh, the catalog to order supplies is in one of those drawers.” He gave a vague motion to the desk.