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“I am.”
“You any good?”
I cocked my head and scowled. I know this fucker didn’t just come into my shop just to bust my balls, because if he did, I was going to lose my shit. I hadn’t had my coffee yet, and I didn’t need his crap. Men like him made me cringe. Big, tough men who thought a little ole woman like me couldn’t possibly know a damn thing about tattooing. Fuck, he probably thought all I was good for was flowers and butterflies. Fucking prick. I had a full day of clients and this fucker showing up out of the blue was seriously hampering my fucking day.
Sighing, I walked over to my reception desk I had set up and turned on the computer before I replied. “I don’t take walk-ins. If you want a touch up done, you’ll need to make an appointment. If you want a new tat, I can schedule you for a consult. If you’re here to piss me off. Congrats. Mission accomplished. You can get the fuck out.”
The man cocked his head, his right eyebrow raising. He never moved from his spot, watching as I stood my ground. I knew he was taking in everything around him.
“You Venom?”
“That’s what the sign says above the door. Got a problem with that?”
“Name suits you.”
“Look asshole, I don’t have time for any shit today.”
“The name is King.”
I smirked at that. Men like him were a dime a dozen. Just because some genetic material designed them big, they thought they were badass. Fuckers were nothing more than pussies that ran at the first sign of trouble. Men like him were not remarkable and easily forgettable.
“My name funny to you?”
Shaking my head, I reined in my laughter, schooled my face, and said, “Nope. A name is just a name. Like a man is just a man.”
“And a woman is just a bitch.”
“Well, this bitch has shit she needs to do, so either make an appointment or leave.”
The man stood his ground, staring at me before turning on his heels, leaving the way he came in. The second the door slammed behind him, I took a deep breath and sat down. My heart was racing fast. I didn’t know what it was about that man, but something told me I just poked the bear.
Working in my field, I’d seen my fair share of men who played at being the badass. While most of those men were posers, nothing more than scared men playing at being hard, there were a small few who were genuine men. Those men, the ones who were exactly as they appeared to be, those men scared me. No one could tame them. They lived by a code that they adhered to, and God help anyone who ever crossed them.
Those men were dangerous.
I didn’t know what it was about King, but I knew I never wanted to cross him. Getting to my feet, I had just turned to head out back when the door chimed again. Looking over my shoulder, I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding as Beth walked in carrying two cups of coffee.
“Good morning, Bailey,” Beth smiled, walking over to me, handing me my morning cup of coffee.
Out of everyone I knew in this town, Beth was the only person to call me by my given name. The only reason she knew was because she asked nicely for it. I don’t know why I told her, but for some perverse reason it felt right letting her call me what my mother named me. Maybe it was because she reminded me a little of my mom. I didn’t know, and I refused to dwell on it. “I saw King leave. Was he wanting some work done?”
Taking a long pull of the hot coffee, I sighed as the burn traveled down my throat, warming the chill in my body. I met Beth and her husband Mike shortly after I moved to Rosewood. Friendly folks, one of the true, honest people in this fucked up world. Beth was easy to talk to and her husband, Mike, was a tremendous help with lifting heavy boxes. The older couple had taken a keen interest in me and since that first day, nothing I did seemed to scare them off. In fact, Mike had become one of my first local clients, wanting a tattoo of his time in the Marine Corps.
Typical military man, Mike was proud of his time in the service and had no problem wearing his service’s emblem as a sense of pride. There was nothing wrong with being proud of his time in the military, but like every ex-military man I met, Mike couldn’t let the past go.
Shaking my head, I replied, “No.”
“Then why was he in here?”
“Came in here to bust my balls.”
Beth frowned. “That doesn’t sound like him.”
“Don’t know what else to tell you, Beth. He came in here, looked around, got pissy, then left.”
“Huh,” the woman scowled, then shook off whatever she was thinking and smiled. “Anyway. I came over to let you know that the town is gearing up for the first summer festival of the season. Have you given any thought about what you are going to do?”
I received a notice from the town council a few weeks ago about the festival and that I needed to mail my five-hundred-dollar deposit to the town by the end of the week if I wanted to secure a booth. While I was all about supporting certain charities and causes, I wasn’t about to give my hard-earned money for a festival that was specifically designed to line the town councils’ pockets.
