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My jaw ticks at her words. I'm not tattooing Vi here because she's not fucking paying for it. I'll take her to my place instead, and I'm meeting my quota for the club, so she can fuck off.
Trying to control my anger, I nod to the door. "Fuck off and make sure the door hits you on your way out."
She growls. "I need money. I fucking deserve it for giving you life. They all didn't want you; they told me to get rid of you. They all loved proving how much they disliked having you around by keeping half your profits for this place, only patching you over last year as their enforcer. You owe me."
I nod. It's the same shit, just a different day. The only difference, she can't force me to watch a brother fuck her as some sort of punishment for not getting her the patch she desperately wanted.
I clean up my station, knowing my last client will be a no-show. He’s already half an hour late, and I won't tattoo him now. I walk toward her with the sketch for Vi in hand, then grab the bitch's arm before dragging her out of my room.
"What-what the hell are you doing?" she stutters, but I ignore her as I shove her away from me, then lock my room up before turning down the hallway, Snatch hot on my heels. I glare at Colleen when I get to the reception desk. She flinches, realizing she's in the shit before I sneer, "Lock up, will ya, and remember this place is full of cameras, and make sure the bitch leaves empty-handed."
Her face pales as Snatch gasps like I hurt her feelings when we know she's just hurt she won't get a cent from me.
I slam out of the shop, fucking angry at having her near me yet again, interrupting my time with Vi, who, let's face it, handled the fucking situation perfectly and looked hot all feisty like that. I grin as I place the sketch in my side saddle, then climb on my bike as a plan comes to mind. I get my phone out, about to stir up some shit.
Me: Snatch decided to storm into my workroom without permission while I was in a consultation. She's lucky I wasn't tattooing. We don't need a fucking lawsuit. I want her banned from the shop.
I put my phone away, knowing Snake will get pissed with her and ban her from the shop at the threat of a lawsuit. I’d ban her but I can’t because, you know, it's the club's fucking shop. I rev my bike and grin at the bitch standing on the sidewalk who furrows her brows as her phone rings, making me chuckle before I ride away, heading home with Violet on my mind as usual.
Fuck, I wish I was good enough for her.
4
Violet – 22 Years Old
I grin as I walk out of Tats' room, happy to shut his birth mother up.
I've wanted to do that for ages.
Betty told me all about the nasty woman and how the brothers treat Tats differently because of the crap she continues to spew while the idiots listen to her. One of the rumors was that he'd turn traitor if he became a council brother because he wanted the club's secrets. It's why the club waited so long to patch him over, which is ridiculous. They've grown up with him, they are supposed to be his family, yet they believed a woman who tried to trap Tats' dad instead of speaking like fricking adults.
I really don't understand why he patched in to begin with.
I shake my head, walking down the hallway, my skin still burning with his touch. For the past year, I have had to contain my feelings for him. I don't want a relationship; I've tried that twice now, thinking the void in my heart would heal, but it didn't, and both times sucked, but I also know something casual could end up with me hurt, and I think I've dealt with enough pain to last me a lifetime. Yet a part of me still wants to try to have some fun with him.
I miss my parents more and more, and it's hard, and I'm lonely. Today would have been my sister's fourth birthday, if she had been born on her due date.
I wonder what she would have looked like; if she would have had mine and my dad's eyes or my momma's nose? Would she have been loud or quiet? Into soccer or dancing?
I blink away the tears as I enter the reception area, the woman with purple hair who kept glaring at me when I was speaking to Tats still sitting there.
She looks my way with disgust before sneering, "Stay the fuck away from my man, bitch. He won't want a lazy nobody like you. It was my ass he was pounding this morning."
I raise a brow at her, trying not to cringe, realizing they probably screwed on the chair that I sat on, and suddenly really want a shower.
I ignore the hurt in my heart, proving something casual definitely wouldn't work as I stop near the desk and state, "A lazy nobody who's in her first year of grad school?" Her eyes widen a fraction, probably in shock that I spoke back instead of running out, crying.
Why do people think I'm some shy, docile girl? Is it because I'm short?
It is, isn't it?
I give her a cold look and state, "I've known Tats since I was a teenager; he was there the day I found out my parents had been killed in a hit-and-run, so it only seemed right for him to tattoo their memory for me. So, next time, try not to offend a client for the shop while pissing on your territory like a damn dog. Somehow, I doubt the club would like to lose business because of your unnecessary jealousy."
Her eyes widen, her mouth opens a little in surprise, and I roll my eyes before heading out of the shop to my momma's dark blue pickup truck, which I, thankfully, didn't have to sell. However, if my uncle Dexter asks, it's been mine since I was sixteen and in my name since then, too.
The ass only ever contacts me if he's heard in the grapevine that I've spent money on stuff, while the rest of the family have simply forgotten I even exist.
When I rented my apartment, he questioned how I afforded it, and I'd remarked “my job”, which is the truth. I can't access my trust for a while yet, but he's not aware of it, and he never will be.
