Page 2 of A Twist of Fate

Zeke nodded knowingly. “If it comes down to it, one of us is going to have to go in, and make sure she doesn’t drown in the damage they’ve caused.”

I nodded my head. “I’ll do it, but let’s see how things play out for a bit first. I’m not real keen on heading down that road if I don’t have to.”

“I know it, and I appreciate that sacrifice.”

“Fuck,” I hissed out. “You know they’ll give me all kinds of hell after the way I just treated them over a girl.” Zeke grinned at me.

“That should make the transition from tattoo artist to club member all the easier. You were willing to take all four of them on to protect their princess. They might think it doesn’t matter if people on the inside of the club hurt her, but they’d protect her from us – seeing you do the same – that probably went in your favor more than against it.”

“Fuck!” I hissed again, shaking my head back and forth.

“Just thought about the ink you’ll have to get, didn’t you?”

“You know what happens to that ink when you leave a club, right?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll pick a good spot and do some glow in the dark work over the blackout ink. It’ll be sick as fuck.”

“Great,” I murmured. “My sister is going to owe me big for this shit.”

“No, she isn’t. You’re going to keep your mouth shut, and they’ll never know how far out on a limb we went for her friend.”

“I think it’s sweet that you two are helping her out. She always looks so sad, even when she’s trying to hide it.” Gretchen had apparently come back into the lobby since the bikers left the building. She held up her hands in surrender. “Don’t worry, my lips are sealed. I just wanted you guys to know how awesome it is. Neither one of you has to help her, but you’re doing it anyway. That’s something special.”

Chapter 1

The Crush

Gretchen

Kane. Kane. Kane.

The damned infuriating man was always on my mind these days. When he stepped into the shop, I actually caught myself leaning in to sniff that incredible scent of his. It was sandalwood and leather, mixed with the salty sea air that seemed to cling to him. I knew it was because on warm, sunny days he enjoyed driving the long way to work on his motorcycle. No, I wasn’t a stalker, not really. I was just a girl working in a tattoo studio, with some of the hottest men in Charleston slinging ink on people all day. And let me tell you, when I say hot, I mean smokin’ hot. Like, the sun gets jealous in their presence kind of hot. It’s not just their looks. It’s their everything.

Kane, for instance, is a gorgeous man; he’s sweet, kind, funny as hell, and completely oblivious to the fact that I have had a fool’s crush on him for the better part of a year. The last part is not factored into the attractive equation. I wish he’d see me, but I think I’m more of the annoying chick who schedules his appointments and takes payments for him instead. I’m the job. The women he goes home with, well, they’re so much more than I could ever hope to be. I don’t mean to sound down on myself, but I know that I’m not fancy in the way they are. I’m more of what you might call quirky. Sometimes, that works for guys. Unfortunately, it’s usually the type of guys that later get classified as idiot posers. They try to be edgy by dating me, and then soon realize I’m just a big nerd in pinup style clothing who won’t put out for just anyone. Then I get dumped, rinse, and repeat. Sigh.

“Whatcha day dreaming about over here, sweetness?” Sully asked me. He was one of the resident artists at Permanent Marks Tattoo Studio. Usually, he handled the piercings, but Sully also did crazy cool anime and manga style art. If that’s what someone was looking for, I’d book him over everyone else. It was his specialty. I glanced up to see the blue neon light from one of the signs hanging over us, giving off a soft glow on his cleanly shaven head. I wasn’t sure why he kept it that way because the man could grow a thick head of hair, but he seemed to like it. He rocked the look too. If I didn’t already have such a huge crush on Kane, Sully would be a close runner-up for my affection. I know, all the gushing I do about my boys at Permanent Marks probably makes me sound like an ink groupie. I’m not. They’re just all such good guys spun up tightly in bad-boy wrapping. It’s enough to make any girl salivate all over herself.

“I’m just…”

He cut me off with a sigh. “How many times do I have to tell you, sweetness, I’m too much for you. You are a forever girl, and I’m….”

I threw my pristinely pointed, yellow, number two pencil right at his shiny, bald head. “Hush your mouth, Mr. Clean! You wish I was daydreaming about you!”

“Yo! Kane!” He called, while wiggling his eyebrows at me. Then, in a whispered voice he continued, “I think someone has a crush on you!”

I huffed, grabbed my purse, and stomped past the infuriating bastard of a man. “I’m going to lunch!” The announcement was unnecessary since it was actually my lunch time, but whatever. I still gave it, with a side of attitude.

“Hey, can you pick me up a…”

“No, Sully! I can’t pick you up anything, because you’re being a giant cock weasel today!”

Sully’s head tipped back as a howl of laughter escaped him. “Oh, sweetness!” He called out. “What in the ever-lovin’ fuck is a cock weasel?”

“You, Sully! You’re the cock weasel!” That’s how I left my boys at the studio in peals of laughter as I went to go get a sandwich from the deli down the street. At least I was no longer thinking about Kane, and how much I’d like to lick that confusing conglomeration of scents right from his God-like body! Damn it! The Sully distraction was short lived.

Thirty minutes later, I was kind of wishing I hadn’t chosen the tuna for lunch, because no doubt, people would be able to smell it on my breath. Wouldn’t you know it, the one day I eat a fish sandwich, and no mints. No gum. There was what looked like an already sucked on butterscotch candy partially stuck to its wrapper while the rest appeared to be glued to purse lint at the bottom of my handbag. I briefly contemplated trying to wipe it off, but then I thankfully came to my senses. A quick peek at my vintage Mickey Mouse watch told me I didn’t have time to do anything about it either. Nope. The gas station, which was the closest place that would sell mints, gum, or toothpaste, was still a couple blocks in the wrong direction. Why in the hell was I always on the shit end of the luck train?

One of these days, I was going to get my ass together! Seriously. Do you know what’s worse than eating a fish sandwich for lunch, and then burping that taste back up repeatedly? No? I’ll tell you. What’s worse, is working in a studio of ridiculously, genetically gifted male specimens. All of those men smelled better than sex and made me wonder if I’d ever actually been fucked properly, because I just know deep down in my southern-born soul that they could do it so much better than I’d ever had it before. So, the last thing a girl wants is to be standing face-to-face with one of the studio gods, only to have her fish breath waft up and smack him in his smirky little sexed-up smile. Women do not want men to associate them with tuna! Am I right?

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