Page 14 of Brand
“In here is fine,” I said as I followed him into the room.
Why was I suddenly so nervous? I had no idea but I needed to shake it off and focus. While I was there to impress this guy, I also wasn’t about to compromise or change who I was. At the same time, I knew I needed to keep my temper in check and not mouth off even a little to my new potential boss-type person.
“So this is the office.” He flipped on the harsh overhead light revealing the small space that held a filing cabinet, smallish desk, and a couple of chairs. “You can set your stuff on top of the filing cabinet.”
I did so, then looked around. It was surprisingly organized. There was a laptop and tablet sitting on the desk and a single, small pile of papers that looked like they hadn’t been filed away yet. With a jerk of his head, he motioned for me to follow him out. He locked the door once we were outside.
“This is the timeout couch,” he said with a hint of amusement in his tone. “We put it there for Blade. He sometimes has to deal with the…well, sometimes he just needs a moment away from shit.”
I nodded like I understood, though I didn’t have the first clue what he was talking about.
“Anyway, bathroom and that is our snack and coffee station.” He pointed as he talked and I saw a small table set up with a single serve coffee maker and some individually wrapped junk food packages. “Don’t touch the white chocolate stuff or else Sketch will flip his shit.”
Then he walked me through the shop. There were three rooms on each side. The area in the middle was big enough to hold a couch, coffee table, and an overstuffed chair. The two rooms closest to the back were empty. Sketch and Brand had rooms next to each other, while Blade seemed to have his own side of the shop. The room that butted up to Blade’s held the Thermofax and a bunch of supplies—nicely organized, I might add.
Each room had a window beside the door, with the front two rooms having an additional window on the front facing walls, so that you could see the door, I imagined. The front of the shop held a counter, a couple of glass cases with body jewelry, and two couches. The walls were covered in all different kinds of framed art and as I looked around, I wondered if this was their work.
The shop was done in shades of grays and blues. It didn’t feel dark and enclosing and I loved that. The glass panes that lined the front of the shop were huge and let in a good amount of light, making if feel less like the dungeon I had envisioned in my mind a few days ago.
“So, that’s it,” he said taking his place on the stool behind the counter and pulling out a pencil from behind his ear.
That was when I took a good long moment to look at him. His brown hair was going every which way and long enough to where it started to curl around the edges of his ears. His arms were strong and his skin held the slightest tint of tan to it like he’d been out in the sun recently. His face was an odd mix between harsh and a boyish-like playfulness. It was almost like he had this mask to hold back the latter. I wondered why. But then quickly shook it off as I stood there awkwardly and took the rest of him in.
Wait. What?
How did I not see that before?
He was wearing a leather vest over his dark Heather gray hoodie. I studied the patches that adorned the front as well as I could without asking him to stand up and show me. There was a motorcycle that had blue flames surrounding half of it and spreading out behind it. I squinted, trying to see it better because it almost looked like…yep, the motorcycle was covered in armor. I thought it was pretty neat, to be honest. I had no idea what it meant but it was a really cool design.
“Are you just going to stand there and stare at me or are you going to ask about it? Not for nothing, but I can feel your eyes practically making holes in me.”
If I wasn’t mistaken, his tone held an amusing ring to it.
Before I could think better of what I was doing, I took a few steps forward and ran my finger along the patch. He straightened and the countertop between us prevented me from going any further. I’d invaded his space and that was clearly a no-no.
“Sorry,” I mumbled and pulled my hand back. “Steel Paragons? Wait, you are in a motorcycle club?”
Then it came to me. I remembered my father talking about some motorcycle club coming into town and he hadn’t seemed all that thrilled about it.
“Another damn criminal empire full of good for nothing people too good to get a real job and earn money like the rest of us.”
I hadn’t pointed out to my father the fact that he didn’t really have to work to earn his money. I figured it wouldn’t have done any good.
So, this just got even more complicated because not only was I hanging out in a tattoo shop, I was hanging around with the worst of people, as my dad would put it.
“Yes, is that a problem?” His eyes narrowed at me, pinning me with an intensity that made me hold my breath.
“No, I mean, I just didn’t know…” It was clear that he was protective over the club and I got the hint not to as so much breathe negatively about it. I wondered just what the cheese sticks I’d gotten myself into.
I honestly didn’t know the first thing about motorcycle clubs. From the way my father talked, they were not exactly walking the straight and narrow. Meaning they were on the criminal side of the law. There had been words thrown around about guns and drugs in that conversation and I really had no idea if there was any truth to it.
I chewed on my lip as I debated what I should do. I didn’t feel like I was in any sort of danger. I mean, I didn’t get any kind of wiggy vibe off of Brand. Trust your gut, right? So, probably against most people’s better judgment, I decided to brush it off and stay. I had no reason to think the worst of Brand or his club until I saw anything. Maybe it was a bit naïve or dumb, but I believed that everyone got a chance to prove me wrong.
“Look,” Brand said, catching my attention. “I’m not really sure what to do with you.”
“Um, okay?”
“I just mean, I don’t really understand why you’re here. Is this like some sort of stick it to your stuffy parents who like want you to become an accountant and marry a doctor or something?”
