Page 13 of Shattered

“Fuck YOU! Where have you been? Rocco and Rooney told me you’re dead,” he says casually, as though he never believed it.

“That doesn’t surprise me. I’m not dead, I had to leave town, and shit’s been crazy, but I’m finally settled. Sorry about that.” It’s a crap apology, but it’s all I’ve got.

“Where are you, and are you back to work?”

“Bane and I moved to Alton, and we’re back to work in a few days. What do you actually want?”

“My back is completely bare, I’m thinking an enormous dragon head, straight on, too big to comprehend.

It sounds like a monster project, exactly what Idon’twant right now. I just… can’t.

“I won’t be tattooing for a while; we’re still trying to get the shop up and running. Bane’s taking all of our clientele for now.”

Jared pauses. “Oh.”

“Yeah. I’m sure Rocco can get you in, though.”

“I want the dragon in realism. What about Bane? Do you think he could pull it off?” he asks, completely missing the point.

“I know he could. But you realize Rocco and Rooney will have our heads if we pawn you.”

“Then don’t tell them. I never see them as is; they’ll never know.”

Jared’s right, and he’s not one to bullshit. I know he won’t cross us.

“I’ll text you Bane’s number, and you can review everything with him.”

“Thanks man, I’ll be in touch.”

Once I hang up, I copy and send him Bane’s number. “Jared wants a dragon head on his back.”

“And he’s settling for me?”

“Yeah, he is.”

He chuckles. “Fine with me. But we might want to do something about the chick next door.”

“What?”

Bane points to the Sunshine House, where I see the Sunshine herself, hanging her head out of a window.

And she’spissed.

She looks like a doll, so tiny and porcelain. Her light hair is in a messy bun with pieces falling around her face. Her brows are sharply downturned, and her enormous fucking owl eyes pierce me like a goddamn knife. I can see her lips moving furiously, but I still can’t hear her, even with the music lowered for my phone call.

“Turn that off,” I tell Bane.

Bane shuts it down, and she shakes her head at me, angrily throwing up her arms.

“What?” I shout back, playing dumb.

She explodes. “Turn the fucking music down, youassholes!”

“Language!” I gasp. “It’s not polite to yell and swear so late at night, Sunshine.”

“Oh, get fucked, dick bag!”

I’m genuinely shocked. This chick doesn’t know what tree she’s barking up.

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