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Rico licks his lips nervously. “You booked with me,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Emma doesn’t take private clients. She hasn’t been working for me long enough. Maybe in another couple of years—”
I shift the gun so that it’s pointing towards him. “I say she has. And I say that if I hear so much as a whisper that anything has changed for her, you’ll get another late-night visit. And if that happens, I guarantee I’ll give you a reason to find out how good your dental insurance plan is.”
“What the hell, man?” Rico whispers. “Are you fucking her? Is that what this is all about—shit!”
He cries out as I lunge forward across the table, my fist connecting with his nose. I hear the crunch of bone, and blood splatters across the glass top, some of it on my knuckles. I sit back down, my expression calm and bland.
“I haven’t touched Emma. She’s an exceptional artist, and I think she deserves this. You certainly don’t. So this is how it’s going to work. You’re going to go back to the shop tomorrow, and tell Emma that you’ve approved my request to switch artists. I’ll contact her in a day or two about scheduling. You won’t retaliate against her in any way. You won’t so much as breathe a word about this. You’ll speak to her and treat her with respect. And if I get so much as a whisper that things are any other way—”
“Igetit, man!” Rico whimpers, his hand cupped over his nose. “Shit, now I gotta go to the emergency room—” More blood bubbles between his fingers as he tries to breathe.
“My condolences.” I stand up, reaching into my pocket for a folded wad of bills, and toss it into the blood spatter on the table. “To help with your deductible.”
And then, without another word, I walk out of his house and back to my waiting car.
7
EMMA
I’m not at all prepared for what I walk into the next day when I arrive at the shop.
Rico is back, sitting behind the front desk. But he looks like shit. His nose is taped, black and purple bruising spreading out from either side of it to beneath his eyes. I pause as I step inside, feeling an odd sense of foreboding spread through me. I can’t say why, exactly, but it’s only magnified when Rico looks up, and his gaze lands on me with the kind of poison in it that I’ve always dreaded seeing turned in my direction.
“We need to talk.” He almost spits out the words. “Go wait for me in the break room.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to ask nicely. It’s not the first time Rico’s talked to me harshly, and every time I have to remind myself that while I technically don’t workforhim—I rent my space like any other artist, and am technically an independent contractor—he still has the ability to throw me out of the shop. And if that happens—
“My patience is on thin fucking ice,” he growls at me, seeing me hesitate. “Don’t make me ask twice.”
I pivot on my heel, every muscle tense as I stride to the break room, trying not to look as if I’m scurrying. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. I don’t sit down when I walk in and close the door behind me—I don’t want to give Rico the chance to tower over me, to make me feel even smaller. Instead, I lean against the counter, arms crossed, waiting for him to tell me what this is all about.
“I thought you had the flu,” I say when he walks into the room, closing the door a bit harder than necessary. “That looks like you got attacked by—”
“Your boyfriend?” Rico turns to face me, an ugly sneer on his face. “I really didn’t think you had it in you, Emma—”
“Hold up.” I raise a hand, looking at him in confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have a—”
Shit.The pieces start to fall into place even before Rico says anything else. Dante’s request for me to take over on his tattoo, my refusal—me telling him to discuss anything further with Rico. But I had meantliterallydiscuss. I meant for Dante to direct any further arrangements or concerns to his own artist.
Notthis.
“Are you talking about Dante?” I croak, staring at the bruising on Rico’s face. “I—we’re not—”
“Dante,hmm? Not Mr. Campano?” Rico gives me that poisonous look again. “He paid me a little visit last night. Apparently, he’sveryinsistent that you finish what you started.”
I can’t stop staring at Rico’s face in horror. He certainly has a broken nose, and from the looks of it, he’s lucky that nothing worse happened. “I—this has nothing to do with me. I told him that he was your client, and I was just filling in. That’s all.”
Rico snorts, looking as if it pained him to do so. “You’re telling me you gave up the lucrative opportunity to tattoo Dante Campano without an argument? That you didn’t tell him to threaten me into giving it to you, and tell me that I’m not allowed to retaliate against you for it, orelse?” Venom drips from every word. “Explain to me why I should believe that.”
Because if I cross you, you can end my career in this city. Maybe beyond that, with the other connections you have. Because not only can I not afford to burn my bridges, but I can’t even think about buying the matches in case I wanted to.
“Because I respect you,” I tell him smoothly instead. “You took me on as an apprentice; you helped make me into what I am now. I wouldn’t even have the opportunity without you. I’m not going to steal a client out from under your nose. Not even if it’s offered to me. And I wouldnevertell someone to go and threaten you like—that. Or at all,” I add hurriedly.
Truthfully, it makes me nauseous to suck up to Rico like this. I don’t want to lavish him with praise, or act as if I would never have gotten anywhere without him. I don’t believe that’s true. I’m grateful for the opportunities he’s given me, but there are plenty of artists in LA who might have taken me on. I might not have gotten as far as fast, but that’s never mattered to me. Whatdoesmatter is that I’m getting to live out a dream I’ve always had, however that’s achieved.
Rico looks at me narrowly—not difficult to do, with how puffy his eyes look. “I don’t have any choice but to believe you,” he says finally. “Or at least pretend that I do. Dante made it very clear that if you were to get fired, or if he were to hear thatanythinghas changed for you after this, he’d take it out of my hide. But here’s the thing, Emma.”
He takes a step closer to me, and another, and there’s no mistaking the clear threat in his body language. “I might not be able to do what I want to, on account of my midnight visitor.” The ice in his voice makes me shudder—I’m not at all sure that he doesn’t mean something so much worse than ending my career. “But I can make sure you pay in other ways. For instance, you’re going to give me a cut of what Dante pays you. Eighty percent of it, in fact. If he tips you, you’re going to give me half of that, too. And if I get so much as a hint that you’re tattling to him about it—well, I won’t have much incentive not to make things worse for you, if he’s already going to take it out on me. Mutually assured destruction, Emma. Or, to put it in more colloquial terms—snitches get stitches. IfI’mgoing to end up with them, you can be damn sure I’ll make certain you do too.”
