Guns: The Spencer Book
Page 39

Really? It’s f**king Tuesday. No one ever comes in on Tuesday. I’m all alone and I get a crowd of… one, two, three… I count them up until I get to fifteen. Fifteen? Really?
The noise must wake Chuck, because he comes out from the back holding his shirt and rubbing his eyes like he needs to go back to bed pronto. I head behind the counter and ignore the crowd. Sometimes they just come in to look. This group might be here looking.
“What do I owe ya, Ron?” Chuck says.
“That’s seven-fifty this time, Chuck. Should I put you in the book for two months?”
He eyeballs me as he takes his card out of his wallet. “Thought you was quittin’, Ronnie? Your dad told me to switch over to Vic. You saying you’ll do another appointment?”
“Would I leave you hanging?” I flash him a flirty smile but he scowls at me.
“Ya don’t have to. We’re at a good stopping place to switch over.”
I stare at him as I internalize what he just said. It sorta hurts my feelings. I’ve been tattooing this guy for two years and to be honest, the thought of Vic finishing it just ruins my day. “No, I want to finish it, Chuck. Really, I do. It might be creepy, but I’m looking forward to doing Chuckie and Cujo next time.”
He flops my head with his hat and I feel like a little girl again. “Kay, then. I’ll call ya when the feeding season is over.” Which means summer, since cows need to be fed in the winter.
I hand him his receipt and then turn to the nearest college kid waiting for my attention. “How can I help you?”
“We’re the Kappa Gamma Gamma house and we all want to get matching tattoos.” She beams at me like this is the most clever idea ever. “Today,” she adds.
Of course you do.
Carson thrusts a clipboard with a sign-in sheet at the girl. “If you could all put your names on here to make a waiting list, then fill out these forms, we’ll get you all scheduled.”
I just stare at him as the girls saunter off to begin their list. “What?” he asks me as I continue to stare. “I figured you could use the money this group will bring, so hey, might as well make myself useful.”
“Hmmm,” I say. “Why are you here?”
“To help,” he insists. “Don’t you want it?”
We both look out at the girls. Their tattoo will be at least fifty dollars apiece, maybe even seventy-five. That’s a lot of extra money for me, even after the shop takes fifty percent. “I have a scheduled appointment at three and another one at six. Do you think we can fit all these girls in before I need to close?”
“We can try, Bombshell.”
“What?”
“What?”
“What did you just call me?”
Carson actually turns red. “Sorry, that’s just… you just… you’re like one of those… pinup girls, ya know? Sorry.” He makes a break for it and goes to talk to the head girl to see what tattoo they want.
Bombshell, huh.
Suddenly Carson makes a whole lot more sense. I’ve been wondering why he’s been all up in my face these days. Asking me about cars and shit. He’s working for Spencer.
I turn away and walk back to my room. Smiling.
In fact, I laugh. I giggle. I get all sorts of stupid. Because Spencer—I sigh. God, I f**king love that man. He told me to date Carson last week. And I swear, I thought my chest was gonna crack open when he said that to me over the phone. It hurt like a motherfucker.
But Spencer is a sneaky f**king prick. A lovable, adorable, sneaky f**king prick.
I rip the plastic off my chair, then the machine and the cord. In fact, I rip all the f**king plastic off. Even from the flatscreen. I find the remote and turn on the Biker Channel. I haven’t watched it lately, but they run the promos for Shrike Bikes all the time. I’m only in one episode, the very last one, but my face is in at least one promo. I signed a release for it. They’re not paying me, I was a pilot walk-on when Rook’s ex came back and tried to kill her. He ended up shooting me instead, just a flesh wound, thank God. And even though Spencer told me I was never gonna be on his show when we had that big falling out last year, he was wrong. I am on his show.
I have to stop everything I’m doing so I can privately gloat about that.
I want to see that show. I’m suddenly excited. Life is good. My man loves me. He loves me so much, he told me to date someone else. He sent that someone else over to my shop to help me out since I was here all alone.
Carson walks into my room with the clipboard. “OK, fifteen girls. They all want a two-inch butterfly flower thing that looks kinda like this?” He points to a rough drawing on the clipboard paper. “Can you just whip up something like that and put Kappa Gamma Gamma underneath or… wherever. They said they want something a little customized, each one a little different, but the same sort of butterfly and the same lettering. So how much per tattoo?”
“Well, that’s probably a forty-minute tattoo, but I don’t want to rush it, so let’s call it an hour and a hundred bucks, discounted to seventy-five for the group rate. I can do five today, the others will have to come back.”
Carson nods his head as I ramble on, taking notes. Then he goes back out front and sends the first girl back. I don’t get a lot of walk-ins most of the time, and hardly any of them are girls. Most of the girls go to the twins, so it’s a nice change from my regulars. After we discuss the particulars of her design, she chats endlessly with me. And even though I don’t point it out, she squeals when the Biker Channel runs the Shrike promo. She informs me that she saw Spencer Shrike standing in line at Big City Burrito. And she is excited about that.