Page 2 of Tess, Property of Blaze

Tess

Three years ago…

Istare at the image of a dragon I’ve just mocked up for a client. It’s 8:00 p.m. and I’m beat. My store closes in two hours, that should be the perfect amount of time I need to finish off this tattoo.

I’ve been living in New York for three years now. The night I left Viper, I left my old life well and truly behind. I had driven all the way to New York and stayed at a motel till I figured out what I was going to do. When I was at the clubhouse, my father sent me to design school to learn how to become a tattoo artist. I know what you’re thinking, he’s a great dad for organizing that for me, right? Yeah, well that’s what I thought too, until I worked out that his idea was for me to tattoo all the boys in the club for free, and to add another business to the books to launder money through.

I’d gotten good at it, and even began to love the idea of sketching on skin. I’d have to say that was one of the only times my father ever paid me a compliment, when I’d finished tattooing the Forseekers emblem on his arm. He’d said I was good enough to start making some money off my skill, so opened up a shop that connected to the clubhouse’s garage. Even though I was mostly tattooing bikers, I didn’t mind because I was able to keep the money I made, and I saved every cent so one day I could get the hell out of there.

Of course I had to pay my dues to the clubhouse, in the form of monthly rental payments, and turn a blind eye to the creative accounting going on behind the scenes, but for the first time in my life, I felt like I had something just for me.

So that’s when I came up with a concrete plan: to save every penny I could for a rainy day—a rainy day being when Viper escalated to the point I feared for my life, or as soon as I could survive on my own, whichever came first.

Well that rainy day arrived, and I was so glad I was prepared, because I had the opportunity to open my own business in New York. But first, I needed a new name, and ID to go along with it.

I discreetly asked around the diner across the road from the motel, but there was nothing, no one who could help me. It wasn’t until I made a late snack run to the store and saw two guys out front exchanging something—most likely drugs for money—that I spotted my chance to get some fake ID. I went up to them even though they looked scary as hell dressed in baggy blue jeans, hoodies, and beanies on top of their head. At first, they didn’t want to give me the time of day, but when I took out some cash I had stashed on me, they soon changed their minds. They took a photo of me with their phone, then asked me to meet them at same time and place the next night. Just before they left, they asked me what name I wanted on the ID. I’d been toying with names on my way to New York, and for some reason the name Tess kept coming into my mind. Maybe it’s because it’s similar to Teresa and I still wanted to keep a part of my identity, but I knew I needed to give them a new last name.

I decided on Harper, something totally different to my father’s name, Bronx.

With my new ID and money that I’d saved, I found an apartment to rent, and then a waitressing job at a local diner. My plan was to lay low and not draw any attention to myself, I was hopeful my old life wouldn’t find me. Thoughts of does my dad even miss me? and has he tried to find me? fleeted through my head sometimes over the years, but didn’t stick around long. Get over yourself, Tess, why would he miss you? He doesn’t even love you.

It’s nearly 10:00 p.m. when I walk my client out and lock up my store for the night. I was lucky enough to find a shopfront for lease close by to my apartment to open up my own tattoo shop. I’d named it Ink Me, and eventually hired another artist, Jeff, a man in his early thirties who had years of experience tattooing for other businesses. It had been hard doing it all on my own, especially when a local biker club found me and business really picked up.

Gunner, an old friend of Jeff’s, had come into the store one day, wanting to book in for a session. When I first saw Gunner pull up on his motorcycle, I’d panicked, thinking Viper and my dad had found me. I’d immediately ducked out to the back of the shop, even though I was in the middle of a job. Jeff’s eyebrows had raised when I flew past him, heading for our small kitchenette, and I whispered, “I’m not here.”

When the alarm above the front door buzzed, telling me the biker had walked in, I tried desperately to calm my racing heart and hear what he was saying, placing my ear up against the closed door. I could make out most of their conversation, and it seemed Jeff and the biker were acquainted with each other. The biker was saying he went to Jeff’s old shop and they told him Jeff was now working at Ink Me, so he decided to check us out.

I sighed in relief when I realized the biker wasn’t a Forseekers member, but I was wary, and slowly emerged from the back room, inching around the corner, trying very carefully not to give my presence away. When my eyes focused on the muscly biker standing in our small reception area, I immediately noticed his patch wasn’t the Forseekers one, it was some other MC club called the Blood Brothers.

Jeff sensed me lurking and looked over his shoulder. Jeff wore a wide gauge in his left ear, and his long black hair was tied back in a knot. Another piercing raised as he lifted his eyebrow in a curious gesture, probably wondering why I was hanging back.

“It’s fine, Tess, he’s an old friend,” Jeff had explained, and I stood up straight, feeling a little embarrassed by the situation, wondering how I was going to explain my behavior to Jeff.I swallowed hard, then walked to the rear of the counter where Jeff was standing. The biker smirked and took me in, his eyes roaming over me, and from what I could tell, he liked what he saw. Pity I wasn’t into bikers, because he was very hot indeed. But I wasn’t going there again.

His eyes skimmed over my tattooed sleeve. “Like your work. You do that yourself?”

“Some,” I replied, “but Jeff here finished it off for me.” I nod my head toward Jeff.

Both my arms are covered in tattoos, and they tell a story—my story.

I wasn’t in the mood right then to explain it, so wanting to change the subject, I said, “So… you need some work done?”

I looked at Jeff, whose eyes were narrowed, as if he was trying to figure out what was going on. “So what can I help you with, man?” Jeff finally said, repeating basically what I’d just asked.

The guy raised his sleeve, revealing some art he’d had done. There was a cross hanging from a neck chain, some Marine helmets with names on them, and gravestones.

“I wanted to have this finished off, you got time this week, man?”

Jeff looked at the computer, checking his schedule. “Sure, how’s Friday at 8.00 p.m.?”

“Sounds good, brother.” The guy then looked at me curiously. “Name’s Gunner by the way, any chance you could do my brother’s tat at the same time? He’s been wanting to get one done for a while now, and it’s his birthday on Friday. I’d like to get it for him.”

“Oh, ah… let me check. Jeff, what have I got on Friday night?” I asked, trying to look around him to the computer screen.

“Looks like you have Tanya till eight thirty.”

I looked over at Gunner. “If your friend doesn’t mind waiting a little, sure, I can help him out.”

“Sounds great,” Gunner said, tapping his fingers on the table, rings fitted on each of them. He smiled at me again, his white teeth showing off his incredible smile. “You’re gorgeous, you know? But I’m sure you knew that already. You got a man?” He smirked, running his eyes up and down my whole body.

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