Page 8 of Christmas with Four Tattoo Artists

Klaus Henderson was a man who stood in a league of his own. He was older than my bosses, in his late forties, but his physique showed no signs of his age. He towered over most men at well over six feet tall, the lean, rippling muscles of his arms exposed by cutoff sleeves an intimidating promise of brute strength.

Klaus had long, unkempt brown hair that fell haphazardly over his piercing eyes. He sported a full beard, enhancing his rugged, untamed aura. His body was covered in intricate art. And as ironic as it was, a good number of those tattoos had been etched into his skin by Finn, back before the days their camaraderie turned sour.

Klaus’s entrance, like his personality, was ostentatious, designed to be the center of attention. Outside, the roar of motorcycles filled the air. My gaze shifted out the window, spotting a handful of men disembarking from their two-wheeled beasts and strolling toward the studio—clearly Klaus's crew judging by the telltale flaming devil’s face patch on their leather vests. I swallowed down the lump forming in my throat as half-a-dozen rowdy, intimidating men poured into the space. Their laughter and banter echoed off the walls, turning the studio into a cacophony of boisterous chatter.

Klaus turned toward me, his boys forming up behind him with amused grins on their faces, a smirk playing on his lips. "We're here for some new ink, sweetheart."

I crossed my arms over my chest, raising a brow in irritation. Despite his intimidating manner, I wasn’t all that afraid of the man. “You should’ve made an appointment, Klaus. We're booked solid. And don’t even start with that sweetheart shit. I’ve had enough of that for one day.”

His smirk turned into a full-blown Cheshire Cat grin, my backtalk clearly more amusing to him than anything else.

"Oh, that's a shame. You know, I would’ve thought with how much money my boys and I’ve spent over the years in this joint, we’d be afforded, I don’t know, some kind of preferred customer privileges. Not to mention… is this any way to treat an old friend?"

His words, coated with faux hurt, made me roll my eyes.

“Now, that’s a fantastic suggestion, Klaus,” I said. “Tell you what—I’ll get you a pen and piece of paper, and you can scrawl that down and drop it in the suggestion box. Maybe we can do a punch card kind of thing, you know? Nine tats and the tenth is on us? Hell, maybe we’ll throw in a happy meal if you’re lucky.”

His boys chuckled at my sass, Klaus joining them. I was giving it right back to him, but Klaus wasn’t some overly-sensitive sort who’d lose his cool at the slightest poke; you didn’t run a crew of hundreds of hard-as-nails bikers without knowing how to handle yourself.

“Oh, and if you need help finding the suggestion box, it’s in the men’s room, the toilet farthest back. Just drop it in, flush, and we’ll get right back to you within three to five business days.”

More laughs from Klaus and the guys.

“A punch card, that’s cute. Not a bad idea, really. I mean, you would be showing a little appreciation for loyalty, after all.”

Displaying an unnerving amount of confidence, Klaus strolled over to my desk. I stood my ground, unwilling to let his arrogant swagger rattle me. He leaned onto the counter, flashing me a devilish grin as his gaze shamelessly roamed over my body.

“Now, Julia,” he began, his voice low and teasing, “Let’s stop screwing around. I'm sure you can squeeze us in somewhere. What do you say?”

I maintained my stern exterior, meeting his eyes with a steely stare of my own. “Actually, I can’t. We already have paying customers booked,” I retorted, matching his tone. I felt a sense of satisfaction seeing his grin falter for a moment. Tough as he was, men like him had limits when it came to back talk.

He recovered quickly, his eyes gleaming with a challenge. “Come on, babydoll, a pretty girl like you should have no problem persuading those bosses of yours to make some room for us.”

“First,” I shot back, leaning closer, “I’m not your babydoll.” That got some of the boys to let outoohsof amusement. “Second, this is a place of business. You can’t just come in here and expect to be moved up before clients that actually have appointments. We have rules, a schedule,appointments. You know, normal business shit?”

His laughter echoed in the studio, the sound grating on my nerves. “Julia, Julia. Always playing hard to get,” he mocked, the underlying aggression in his tone not lost on me.

The tension in the room was palpable and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. Klaus was no ordinary client. He wasn’t a pushover like Steve. He was dangerous, his presence commanding, and the power he wielded was far greater than what met the eye. The man oozed charisma, charm, and persuasive power—the kind of evil dude who’d lead you to damnation with a wink and a smile.

"I wouldn't call denying a walk-in for a whole damn group without an appointment playing hard to get, Klaus," I retorted. “I’m just doing my job.”

"Oh, come on, darlin’, where's the fun in playing by the rules?" Klaus shot back, his grin only growing wider as he leaned against my desk, disturbingly comfortable with the confrontation.

“Rules keep things in order,” I argued, holding his gaze, the mirth in his eyes not swaying me. “And if you really were a friend, you’d know that.”

Klaus's chuckle echoed around the room, but his gaze never left mine. "Oh, I know Blackjack'srules,” he said, placing no small amount of disdain on the word. “But I also know that every rule has an exception."

"And what makes you think you're the exception, Klaus?" I challenged. The truth was, I didn't know how much longer I could hold off Klaus and his gang. They were not some nuisances like Steve that I could easily fend off.

Klaus opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of a throat clearing cut him off. Andrew had reached the front desk, his towering figure casting a shadow over our visitors. Finn and the rest of the guys were just behind him, Finn’s cold gray eyes shooting daggers at the intruders.

"Seems like we've got some uninvited guests," Andrew's voice resonated throughout the studio, his tone carrying a warning.

Klaus straightened, turning to face Andrew. The grin never left his face, but I could see a glint of defiance in his eyes.

A shared look of understanding passed between Andrew and me as he gave me a subtle nod of gratitude. That silent communication was one of the reasons why I had immense respect for my bosses. They were hard men, but they were also fair. They appreciated that I'd tried to handle the situation, but now, it was time for them to take over. A part of me breathed a sigh of relief while another part, the one that secretly relished the adrenaline of such tense moments, felt a pang of disappointment.

I discreetly withdrew, retreating to the safety of my desk while maintaining an inconspicuous distance to overhear the exchange. Klaus and his crew shifted their attention to the men who had now effectively taken command of the situation.

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