Chapter 11

~ Ever ~

Zeke strolled into the office as I was considering how well the stencil had turned out. He reached around and grabbed my artwork out of my hand, taking it under better light by the desk to get a good look at it. “Damn,” he muttered as he took in the image. “I guess you decided to start with yourself, huh?”

“How did you know that one was for me?”

“Honey, this couldn’t have been for any of them. This one is definitely about your pain.” He turned toward me then and gently handed the stencil back. “Are you sure you want that on you?”

I nodded my head. “I’m positive,” I explained as I turned my back to him and pointed to where I wanted it. “Right here, if you would do the honors.”

“You know I will, but seriously, do you want some time to consider it first?”

“No, I’m positive it’s something I need to do to help me heal too.” Zeke smiled at me then, a gesture that was both warm and genuine.

“Good,” was all he said as he took the stencil back and headed toward his station. “Give me a few minutes to get this cleaned up and set up for you. I don’t have anyone else coming in tonight. Go put something on that will be comfortable for you and give me room to work without you losing your modesty.”

“You know I basically grew up around a bunch of bikers, right? Modesty is weirdly absent around that crew.”

“Yeah, I also know they kept you weirdly absent from their lifestyle so I imagine you still have a little left for yourself.”

“Well, you got me there,” I teased back. He wasn’t wrong either. Of all the “club kids” I was definitely the most conservative with the way I dressed and behaved even if I was going into a profession that didn’t always lean conservatively. Again, that went back to me trying to be the good girl so everyone would accept me. I just shrugged my shoulders at the thought, and ran up to my apartment to get an old bandeau top on. It was bright blue and fit extremely tight across my overly large chest. Considering the shirt itself was about four years old, I was guessing I would be lucky the stitching held through the entire tattoo, but it was the best I could do without going shirtless while Zeke worked on my back.

I also took a moment to sit and just breathe. I was about to put all my pain on the upper portion of my back for anyone and everyone to see depending on what I wore. Granted, there weren’t going to be many people who got it, but those in the know would understand every time they looked at it. When I thought that Zeke would be ready I finally meandered back downstairs.

“You sure you want this?” He asked the question while taking in all that was me. All that I was in this tight as fuck shirt that my boobs were trying valiantly to pop free of. Never, in all the time I’d been working with Zeke had I noticed him checking me out, but that changed today apparently.

“My eyes are up here, buddy,” I teased him causing him to glance up so quickly I’m surprised he didn’t get whiplash of the eyeballs. I laughed then, wondering if that was even a thing. My laughter brought Zeke right out of his stupor as a huge grin formed on his superbly masculine face, making it appear softer and more refined for a moment.

“Now there’s a sight to see,” he commented, confusing me. At my puzzled look he clarified so I wouldn’t have to wonder what he meant. “You laughing is a rare thing, honey and way better than noticing the boobs about to fall out of your shirt. No offense to the boobs.”

I continued laughing as I moved passed him to straddle the chair, leaning on the back with my arms basically dangling like dead weights. It was slightly inclined already so I wasn’t lying flat as if the chair were in the bed position. Honestly, it was pretty damn comfortable, and I thought maybe I’d get a nap in while he inked me. Then, I remembered the tattoo was pretty sizable and detailed, so inevitably it would start irritating me beyond sleep.

“Last chance, Ever. You sure you want this?”

“I’m positive that I do. Is it weird that it makes me feel better to know I drew it all out, and that it’s going to be there? It’s kind of like taking the weight of it off my shoulders – you know the internal ones – and putting it on the outside where it’s less of a burden.”

“I know exactly what you mean, and for the record, I’m happy as hell this is the route you’re taking. I can already see an ease about you that hasn’t been there the entire time I’ve known you.”

I didn’t respond to that. There wasn’t really anything to say. Instead I closed my eyes and waited for Zeke to get the transfer on my skin so that he could begin inking my design onto my body. It wasn’t long before the buzzing and initial scratch-like sensation lulled me into a semi-sleepy state. As I drifted off, a smile tipped my full lips up on my face. I was pretty sure this was what contentment felt like.

Three hours later the bell over the door tinkled to life, alerting us to the fact that Zeke hadn’t exactly locked up after his last client. We were probably lucky that we hadn’t had any other intruders while he’d been working on my piece. “Hey, man, we’re actually closed up right now. If you need to make an appointment just leave your information on a scrap of paper up on the front desk, and we’ll get back to you tomorrow some time,” Zeke called out to the as yet unidentified person.

“I was actually looking for Ever. She’s not answering her phone, and Lucy’s worried. She asked if I could come check on her.”

Zeke pulled his iron away from my skin. “She’s almost done here,” he called out as I stiffened.

“You’re getting a tattoo?” Now that he was closer I could place the voice, not that it took a genius to figure out who Lucy might send looking for me.

“That’s what it feels like.” I teased.

I didn’t bother opening my eyes as I felt Zeke wiping my back, most likely cleaning me up since I was pretty certain he had finished. An intake of breath piqued my attention just before either of them spoke again. “Is that what I think it is?” Deck’s voice was laden with awe as he asked the question.

“Probably,” Zeke answered.

“Damn,” he hissed out, voice both hushed and full of emotion. Like I thought, to those in the know, the tattoo would display my pain like no other. To those who didn’t, they would probably just wonder about its meaning. “Does this mean you’ll be doing the rest of them too?”

“Yeah, I’m going to do them, but I’m not showing them to anyone ahead of time, and you’ll keep quiet about this one too. I have a plan since the guys like their ceremonies so much. They mentioned unveiling them in front of the rest of the club. Once I get all the designs done, I’ll have them sit for the tattoos back to back. It’ll probably take about two days to get through all six, maybe three depending on how complex they end up being. Once everyone’s tattoos are healed up, we’ll have a thing at the club, explain what they’re about, and each person will get to see them for the first time along with everyone else. Then they will all get to see mine too.”

“You’ll be explaining their meanings too?” Deck asked, looking for confirmation.

“Yeah, I’ll be explaining why I chose each one.”

“I’ll be sure to stock some fuckin’ tissues at the clubhouse then,” Deck joked. Only, judging by the hitch in his voice, I don’t think it was as much of a joke as he tried to make it seem. “This is fuckin’ unbelievable,” he called out with sheer reverence in his voice.

“It’s all her. I just traced over Ever’s work,” Zeke was quick to clarify.

“Did Lucy want anything specific, or was she just trying to check in?” I asked, finally remembering why Deck had said he was there.

“Oh, no, nothing major. She was just worried about you. I guess the guys told her what they asked of you, and that no one had heard from you since the request was made.”

“That’s not true,” I reminded him, since I was pretty damn sure he had been the one on the other end of my phone call with Jay.

“Well, aside from Jay, but I don’t think anyone outside of the three of us knew you talked to him.”

“No, I don’t suppose he went blabbing his mouth about that since it might have backfired on him.” I moved to sit up after Zeke applied the wrap to my skin, and when I did I immediately felt slightly woozy and resumed my original position. “Well, that sucked!”

“Shit!” Zeke huffed out. “When was the last time you ate anything?”

“Um,” I thought a moment, and honestly couldn’t remember. When I was stressed out an appetite was the last thing I had to worry about. Thinking about the tattoos and the phone call from Jay, while eventually enabling me to clear my mind and lift some of my burden, it had taken most of the day to do so. “I was lost in that drawing for about six hours, getting it just right,” I admitted.

“Go grab her a coke from the employee lounge, Deck,” Zeke ordered. “You have to take better care of yourself, Ev. If I had known you hadn’t eaten I would have made sure to give you something. Christ, that’s at least nine hours without food, girl. You do this for a living now, so I know you know better.”

“I do, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about it, because once I got into it I was too excited.”

“Shit, you don’t need to explain. I know exactly how that is. Drink the Coke,” he commanded as Deck handed it to me. I rose up enough so that I was comfortable while drinking, and then I took a few small, tentative sips to start me out. Before long, I had chugged the majority of the can and ended up letting out the loudest damn belch I’d managed in a long time. Thank you carbonation for another round of humiliation in my life. The guys simply laughed.

“That one definitely deserved about an eight out of ten,” Deck joked.

“Shit, I might be willing to call that a nine,” Zeke put in his two cents.

“Ha! Ha! You two are hilarious.” Feeling better, I twisted my body and pulled one leg over the chair almost like I was dismounting a bike. Then I spun around and sat facing forward so I could see the two ass-clowns who were making fun of me. Once again, I caught Zeke’s eyes on my tits. This time he wasn’t the only one here noticing my way-too-small shirt.

“You might want to adjust that,” Zeke managed to choke out while pointing toward my chest. “I’m just gonna go clean up,” before I could even process he was gone from the station and walking so fast down the hall he might as well have been at a light jog.

Finally, I glanced down to see that my shit had indeed slipped down to an even more precarious position where my dusky areola were on display and nips were threatening to poke their way free of the fabric. “Shit,” I huffed out as I reached down made certain that all the important parts were once again covered by cloth only to look back up when I realized there were a pair of legs still standing in front of me. Connected to those dark denim clad legs was Deck whose eyes were so enflamed with the heat they were throwing off that I wondered if he could incinerate me where I sat. Jesus. Never, in all my 19 years, had I been looked at like that. Hell, I hadn’t even had a close call for someone looking at me that way. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Deck wanted to eat me alive.

“Deck?” I questioned softly bringing him out of his heated stupor.

“Go get changed, Ever. I’m taking you to get something to eat, but if that,” he pointed toward my barely-there shirt before continuing. “Happens when I have you in public, and people see, I may be tempted to kill them.”

I don’t know why, but that made me laugh. A full-on belly laughed started from deep down inside me, and once it started I couldn’t stop it. Little tears rolled from the sides of my eyes as it continued, and Deck just stood there huffing at me in consternation.

“I don’t know what was so funny about that,” he finally muttered. I did. Someone finally felt protective of me again, and it was because my boobs threatened to spill out. A biker, worried about people seeing my boobs was just hilarious considering the conversation Zeke and I had earlier about their lax lifestyle when it comes to modesty.

I waved him off as I stood, still giggling, and moved around him to head to my apartment upstairs. “Where are you going?” He finally asked.

“I’m going to get changed. Don’t want you running around killing poor innocent people if I have a nip-slip style wardrobe malfunction,” I managed to choke out while still laughing at the absurdity of seeing my boobs being a killing offense. “I’ll be right back down.”