Page 32 of Killer's Obsession
“Jade, this is Memphis,” I say, placing my hand at the small of Memphis’s back and gently urging her forward. “Baby, this is Jade. She’s one of the artists here.”
Memphis steps forward, extending her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Jade glances at me, one pierced eyebrow raised in question, before taking Memphis’s hand. “Hi.”
“Memphis is going to be handling the phones and appointments from now on,” I explain, watching Jade’s face for any sign of resistance.
Instead, her expression morphs into relief. “Thank fucking God. I was going to shank someone if I had to keep doing it.”
Jade’s over-the-top bullshit makes Memphis laugh. At least one of us is amused by her exaggeration. “Glad we can avoid any violence.”
“Make jokes all you want. You have no idea how annoying it was,” Jade says with her eyes bugging out.
See. Always over the top with that shit.
Across the shop, Marco’s door opens, and he steps out, wiping his hands on a paper towel. His eyes land on Memphis, and a smile spreads across his face.
“Well, hello there,” he says, moving toward us with his hand outstretched. “I’m Marco.”
I step slightly in front of Memphis, my jaw clenching. If he thinks he’s got a shot with my woman, he’s highly mistaken. I’ll cut his dick off before that ever happens.
“This is Memphis,” I say, my voice carrying a warning that makes Marco’s smile falter. “She’s our new receptionist.”
Marco’s eyes flick between Memphis and me, understanding dawning on his face. “Ah. Message received, dude. No need to hulk out.” He then looks at my girl without the shit-eating grin on his face. “Nice to meet you, doll.”
My feisty woman elbows around me and offers him a small smile. “You too.”
Hearing her voice, Rage looks up from his client, and his eyes find Memphis. “Hey, Girl.”
Memphis waves at him, clearly more comfortable with someone she recognizes from the clubhouse. “Hey, Rage. How’s baby Saint doing?”
Rage’s face breaks into a wide grin. “Perfect like his momma.”
“Why are you here?” His old lady just gave birth to their son a day ago. He should be at home with his family. Not here in the shop.
He tips his head towards the man in his chair. “He’s had this appointment booked for over a year. Flew in from Cali for this appointment.”
Ahhh. High-profile client. That means big money. Can’t exactly reschedule those at the drop of a hat. Plus, with a new baby, they probably can use the extra scratch.
“Alright,” I say, moving Memphis toward the counter. “Let me show you how everything works.”
I spend the next half hour walking Memphis through the computer system, the appointment book, and the credit card machine. She picks it up quickly, nodding along as I explain the process.
“It’s pretty straightforward,” she says, scrolling through the calendar on the screen. “I used to work as a barista in college, so I’m familiar with credit card machines.”
I nod, watching her slender fingers move over the keyboard. “Any questions?”
She shakes her head. “I think I’ve got it. If I get stuck, I’ll ask one of you guys.”
As if on cue, the front door chimes, and a tall blonde in a low-cut top and tight jeans walks in. Her eyes land on me, and a flirty smile spreads across her face.
“Killer,” she purrs, sauntering over to the counter. “I was hoping you’d be here today.”
I recognize her vaguely—a walk-in from a few weeks back.
“You have an appointment?” I ask.
She leans against the counter, pushing her tits up even higher. “No. I was hoping you could squeeze me in.” Her eyes rake over me, and I feel Memphis tense beside me.
