After logging the appointment into the computer, I turned toward the back of the shop. Stevie sat on the edge of her stool finishing a tattoo she had been working on for a few hours. The woman getting tattooed had a very interesting story, and after hearing it, I loved the concept of her tattoo, feeling it would depict something that was extremely important in her life, and how everything came to work out. I had seen the outline of the tattoo, and walked back a few times during the shading, but was eager to see it once it was finished.

“How’s it coming along?” I asked as I walked to Stevie’s side.

“Have a look,” she said as she nodded her head toward the piece.

The scantily dressed woman holding a set of scales in one hand and a sword with the other all done in black and grey appeared to be finished. It looked like a photograph. The quality of the realism in Stevie’s work amazed me, and this particular piece was a nothing short of a masterpiece.

“Justice,” the woman said as she glanced up.

Dressed in jean shorts, Chuck’s, and a tee shirt, she looked like she could have been my sister, only a few years older, but not much.

“It’s…” I stared down at the tattoo. “It’s uhhm. It’s amazing.”

“I love it,” she said as she shifted her eyes toward Stevie and grinned.

“Let me get it wiped down and have one last look,” Stevie said.

After wiping the tattoo clean, Stevie inspected it thoroughly. Satisfied the piece needed no touch-up work, she stood from her stool and smiled.

“Looks awesome,” Stevie said as she pulled off her gloves.

“So, you said after almost ten years, he finally got out of prison, and you waited all that time?” I asked.

She nodded her head and smiled. “Love is a powerful thing.”

“It sure is,” I said.

“Were you here when she said her Ol’ Man’s Jackson?” Stevie asked.

“Oh, wow. I guess not,” I said.

Stevie nodded her head. “Yep. He did ten fucking years on a bullshit conspiracy charge. ATF set his ass up. So ten years later, the Ol’ Lady of the president of the club he rides with now hears about his case, files an appeal, and gets him out of prison. He gets out of the joint and rides with the club. Story gets a lot better, but I’ll let her tell ya.”

“So, Jackson? The big guy with the big arms?” I asked.

“Sounds like him,” she said.

“He and Blake grew up together,” I said.

“That’s what he said. Sad how they met, but I’m glad they found each other,” she said.

“Me too. Blake doesn’t really have any friends. He doesn’t trust people,” I said.

“Where is he now?” she asked.

“Kansas City, at some tattooing convention that came up,” I responded. “And Jackson?”

“Out riding with the fellas. It’s like a disease,” she said with a laugh.

“You ride?” I asked.

She stood from the chair and smiled. “As much as I can. Love it, personally.”

“Me too,” I said.

“So, you going to tell me the story?” I asked.

“Sure,” she said as she sat down in her seat. “I never get tired of telling it.”

“Jackson Shephard never breaks a promise. We met ten years ago when he walked into a bar when a guy was groping me. He never knew me, had ever seen me, or anything. So, I’m telling this guy to leave me alone, and he steps in. He beat the shit out of the guy and gave him a lecture on respecting women. I walked out of the bar with my panties in a puddle behind me,” she said.

I laughed and nodded my head, eager to hear more.

“So, he goes on to tell me he doesn’t fuck around, and he didn’t want sex. He was single, but convincing him to give me a chance was impossible. After a long - and I do mean long - courtship, we ended up together,” she paused, sighed, and smiled.

“He had an ATF agent working undercover in his club, and the man convinced him one night in a club when he was drunk to admit he’d kill a rival member if they threatened the club. It was male bravado bullshit, but the court saw it differently. They gave him life in prison. When he left the courtroom, I asked him to promise me he’d never see me again. He wouldn’t do it. They drug him out of there, and I cried for six months,” she paused, wiped her eyes, and gazed down at the floor.

She shifted her eyes upward and focused on the doorway. “Sorry, it still makes me teary-eyed thinking about it. Anyway, he spent almost ten years in prison. He was convinced his life was over, and he was convinced having so much as a visitor would drag them down into the hell he was living in, so he removed everyone from his visiting list and began his life of living alone.”

“I moved around the country, madly in love with him just as much as the day he left, knowing one day everything would be alright. Don’t ask me how, but I knew. I knew one day,” she paused and wiped the tears from her cheeks with the tip of her finger.

“I knew one day my Jackson…I knew he’d come back to me.” She nodded her head and wiped her finger on her thigh.

“So. I was in Las Vegas. I’d just opened a restaurant there. It was my third in the ten years he was away. I was talking to a food critic, and I saw this man standing in the distance crying. It was sunny, and the sun was in my eyes, but I thought for a second I was going crazy. So I sat there talking to her and staring at him. And he slowly walked my direction…”

She paused and sighed heavily.

“Ten years. And it all came rushing back. He’d been brought back on an appeal, won, and was released free and clear. He rode his bike around the country trying to find me, and finally he did. He gave me a kiss, and here we are,” she said as she spread her arms wide.

“Oh wow. That’s awesome,” I said.

“Gives me goosebumps,” Stevie said.

“What was your name again?” I asked.

She stood from her chair. “Em. Call me Em.”

“Riley, it’s nice to meet you. I like that story,” I said.

“I like telling it,” she said. She turned toward Stevie. “What do I owe you?”

“Tell you what. What do you say, Riley? Can we lock this bitch up a little early?” Stevie asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Uhhhm…”

“Girl’s night out,” Stevie said.

“Oh wow. Uhhm,” I paused and looked at the clock.

The thought of a girl’s night out was exciting. I hadn’t done anything with girlfriends since my senior year in high school. I tried unsuccessfully to hide my excitement as I turned toward Stevie.

“Don’t tell Blake what time we locked it up,” I said as I shifted my eyes back and forth between them.

Stevie shrugged.

Em shrugged.

And I locked the door behind me.