Page 1 of Ink & Desire

Chapter 1

Corbin

It’s going to be a shit day. I can already feel it. My phone didn’t charge last night, so I woke up late to find the battery completely dead. That’s just a minor annoyance, I know. But because I overslept, I managed to hit morning school traffic. That would have been bad enough, but I was also stuck behind a garbage truck doing its weekly rounds with no way to pass it for several blocks due to all the damned school buses.This is why I always wake up early and leave my house before all the little brats line up outside their houses every morning. I can’t wait for summer to get here. I can deal with the heat if it means the traffic dies down a little.

By the time I get clear of the bus and the garbage truck, I’m running a full 20 minutes late to open the shop. Jessie is going to be standing outside waiting for me. I sigh as I lay on the gas pedal, the speedometer creeping higher. If she had a key this wouldn’t be an issue. But for some stubborn reason, she refuses to accept a key to Elemental Ink.

She’s worked for me as a piercer for more than 2 years. In that time, I’ve grown to trust her as an employee and as a person. I wouldn’t exactly call her a friend because I don’t have those. Neither does Jessie, as far as I can tell. She doesn’t volunteer a lot of information about herself, so that’s just a guess on my part. But I can tell she’s a decent person and trustworthy. So, when she refused to take a key, citing that she didn’t want the added responsibility, I’d been a little annoyed. She had seemed unbothered by my annoyance, as usual. Which pissed me off even more. But I couldn’t exactly force her to take a key to the business. That annoyed me too.

By the time I pull up to the front of the building to see Jessie standing there, arms folded as she leans against the hood of her beat-up Honda, I’ve moved past annoyance and into the land of pissed off. I climb out of my car and close the door harder than necessary.

“Morning, boss,” Jessie says brightly. “Did we change the opening time for the shop?”

“Shut up,” I grumble, making my way to the front door to unlock it.

But Jessie doesn’t let it go. She keeps talking in a cheerful tone, seemingly oblivious to my dark mood.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she says, following me inside. “I’d be happy to sleep in a little more. But I have a client booked in half an hour. If we’re changing the hours, I just need to know.”

“We’re not changing the god damned hours, Jess. I overslept.”

My voice is an angry snarl, daring her to question me further. Most people would back off at this point, sensing they were pushing my buttons just a little too hard. Not Jessie, though. I can practically hear the smile in her words as she speaks again.

“You? Slept in? I didn’t think robots slept. Are you becoming sentient? Hang on. I think I know what to do next. There are a whole lot of movies from the 90s that prepared me for this.”

I whirl around to face her, feeling like an asshole when she flinches slightly at my sudden movement. I also don’t miss the hint of fear in her eyes before she masks it. I don’t know Jessie’s story. No one does. It’s no one’s business but hers. But I know when she showed up here, she’d been scared. She never said it aloud, but I could see that hint of fear in her brown eyes when she’d come in for her interview. Not to mention the slight flinching thathappens anytime someone moves too quickly around her. It was obvious she’d been running from something. Some people would have attributed her behavior to nerves or shyness, but I could tell she was scared. I wasn’t sure if it was me that she was afraid of, or whatever she’d been running from. Maybe that’s why I took a chance and hired her.

Maybe that’s why I let her get away with intentionally riling me just about every day. When Jessie first started teasing me, I let it go, not wanting to scare her. Plus, part of me was relieved to see her open up a little. Eventually, she relaxed more around me. After that, she seemed to take my lack of outward hostility as a license to taunt me every chance she could. She’s the only person besides my own sister who gets away with that sort of teasing. Maybe it’s because Jessie reminds me of Henley.

Not that they look anything alike. Henley is blonde and half a foot taller than Jessie. Jessie also has warm, brown skin whereas Henley is so pale that I used to tease her about it when we were kids. But something about Jessie makes me think of my sister and brings out the protective streak in me. Hell, I don’t know. I just could never bring myself to tell her off the way I would anyone else who talked to me the way she does.

The fear is mostly gone from Jessie’s eyes these days, except for brief moments like this when someone moves too fast and startles her. But I know better than to question her about it. For one thing, it’s not my fucking business. I don’t pry into other people’s lives. I don’t askpersonal questions, and I don’t get involved in personal shit. Even if Jessie is the closest thing I have to a friend in this city. For another thing, I figure if she wanted to tell me her deep, dark secrets, she would.

“You done?” I ask, working hard to make my stance unthreatening, even if my words sound harsh.

I can see the exact moment when she drops her guard, remembering that I’m not a threat to her. I wish I knew what happened to this girl to make her so skittish. If I had to guess, I’d say a man put that fear in her eyes. I’d love to get my hands on whoever it was. Any man who hurts a woman is the worst sort of trash in my eyes. But the look is gone before I can evaluate it further, and she’s back to her normal, sarcastic self. Rolling her eyes, she shoots me a playful grin.

“Yeah, boss. I’m done. For now.”

She turns to head for her work station to begin setting up for the day and I watch her go, knowing there’s no way she’s finished fucking with me. I shake my head and continue walking back toward my office. I have some things to catch up on that should keep me busy for the morning. That should also keep Jessie off my back for a little while.

I spend nearly an hour working on invoices for the month’s supplies that just came in. My shop isn’t the biggest tattoo studio in the city, but it’s one of the busiest. And like any business it has its share of expenses. There’s everything from the electric bill to gloves and thermal paper, to toilet paper in the bathrooms. Notto mention the items needed for the artists to do their jobs. That seems to be a never-ending list. Not that I’m complaining. I knew what I was getting into when I opened this place.

In the beginning it had been just me, but there was no way that was going to last. It wasn’t long before I realized I needed help. I worked hard to build a reputation for myself as an artist during those first few years. But as good as I am, I know my limitations. I was working myself to death trying to please every client that walked in the doors. Eventually I had to admit that I couldn’t do it all alone.

Besides me and Jessie, there’s one other artist who works here regularly. Noah comes in four days a week and has a loyal client base here in the city. He’s even got some clients who travel from other states just to be tattooed by him. It’s one of the reasons I took him on as a full-time artist at Elemental. He’s not only a damned good artist with an excellent reputation. He’s also reliable. He shows up when he says he will, and he does solid work. In the 3 years he’s been at the shop, he’s never given me a reason not to trust him. That’s not always easy to find these days.

He specializes in black work and fine line art while I tend to stick to realism tattoos and color. Not that we both can’t do a little of everything. But we each know where our specialties lie. It’s what makes Elemental Ink work so well.

By the time my first client is due to arrive, I’ve gotten most of the month’s supplies ordered and the invoicestaken care of. I rub my eyes and stretch before standing from my desk. This desk and this office are my least favorite parts of running my own business. I’ve tried to add colorful touches to make it feel less like the cage it is, but I know I could never spend 40 hours a week in an office, no matter how comfortable the chair is. I just want to be creating the art I love, not chained to a desk half the time just to keep things going. I feel like each month I spend less time tattooing and more time in this fucking office. I sometimes wonder if it’s worth it. But I try to remind myself that this is the price I pay to keep my dream going. Some days it's hard to remember that.

Chapter 2

Avery

“I know it sounds crazy, but I really think this is what I need to do,” I say as I scan the street for an empty parking spot.

I called Cass on my drive here this morning to tell her that I was finally implementing my plan. I know I could have waited until it was done, but I think I’d wanted to tell someone. I’m not sure if I wanted her to talk me out of it or to hypeme up. She’d been just as dumbfounded by my idea as I’d expected.

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