“Morning,” Nancy was grinning as she greeted Brittany. Her whole body still felt flushed from Zack’s touch. But seeing her young apprentice in the light of day reminded her of Zack’s dark warnings, and her smile slipped.
“How’s things?” she asked briskly.
“Good,” Brittany gave a light shrug. She was wearing a navy sundress and black ballet pumps. She looked beautiful in an understated way. But her bare arms and pristine skin looked out of place in the parlor.
“We need to get you inked up sometime soon,” Nancy noted, tilting her head at her. “That’s if you’re up for it?”
She watched Brittany glance down her lean arms and then smile. “I’d like that.”
“Hey, did you guys hear what happened last night?” Robbie, the weekday receptionist, blurted as he came through the front door. He always smelled of a strange combination of vanilla and petrol.
“What happened?” Nancy asked, one hand on her hip. For one awful moment, she thought he was going to say that he saw her having sex in the parlor. The tips of her ears started to burn and she felt a blush creeping up her chest.
“That little bar down the street, O’Hannigans got totally trashed. There’s like seven people in the hospital this morning,” Robbie was talking fast, his chubby face bright with excitement.
“O’Hannigans?” Brittany repeated slowly, her hands twisting in a nervous ball in front of her. “I worked on a girl yesterday who works there.”
“Poor her,” Robbie rolled his eyes. “About working there, not being worked on by you,” he quickly clarified. “But from what I can hear it was pretty bad. Some broken bones, people needing multiple stitches.”
“Why…” Nancy swallowed nervously. Was this the kind of trouble Zack was so concerned about? Was her tattoo parlor going to be targeted next? “Why did it happen?”
“Thugs,” Robbie’s eyes widened. “Although my friend at the police station mentioned it might be gang related.”
Nancy felt light-headed. She leaned against the reception counter for support. Just a few hours earlier it had been the sight of an erotic encounter but in the harsh light of day everything seemed dulled. Nancy wanted to pull down the shutters over her store and just close up for the day.
The blonde-haired gang member was due in again that afternoon, the one Brittany had been working on. What if he was all beaten up because of last night? Because it had to be him and his friends, right? It couldn’t have been Zack, because he was with her.
“Colridge is feeling less and less safe these days,” Robbie declared, moving past his colleagues towards the staff room at the back of the building, his designer satchel flapping at his side.
“It is,” Brittany agreed quietly, folding her arms across her chest and fearfully bowing her head. Nancy didn’t know what to say to comfort the young woman. Brittany was sleeping with one of the guys who’d probably caused the trouble at the bar. Nancy shivered at the thought.
“I hope that the girl I worked on yesterday is…is okay,” Brittany whispered, casting a concerned glance out towards the street.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Nancy lied. She knew from past stories of gang-related violence that members didn’t discern between men and women; in their twisted minds, everyone was fair game. They’d crack a woman’s skull just as swiftly as they’d crack a man’s.
“Maybe I should close up early today,” Nancy pursed her lips and imagined spending the day tucked up safely in her apartment with the dead bolt on. She sensed that it was no longer safe to be out and about in Colridge, not when a gang war was brewing.
“But I’ve got a client coming in this afternoon,” Brittany gently objected. “I’d hate to let him down.”
Nancy bit her tongue. She wanted to point out that Brittany might feel very differently if he did show up all beaten and bruised. She’d surely put two and two together. Nancy nervously scratched at her forearms. It wasn’t safe to have gang members in her store. If she closed up and lowered the shutters, then the blonde would have no choice but to walk away. He couldn’t harass them into working on him if they weren’t there.
“No, I’m definitely closing up,” Nancy insisted, trying to sound less panicked than she was. “It’s the right thing to do, considering what happened at the bar last night.”
“But surely, we shouldn’t give into acts of intimidation,” Brittany countered, the fear in her face replaced by a look of indignation.
“When it comes to gangs, we need to keep ourselves safe,” Nancy told the younger woman sternly. “I’ll call your client and have his appointment rescheduled.” This was a lie, but it seemed to have been told convincingly enough to placate Brittany. She gave a shrug and then a nod of consent.
“Okay, if you’re sure it’s the right thing to do. It’s your call.”
“Yes,” Nancy felt a little bit relieved to have made her decision. “Go home, Brittany,” she ordered. “And stay safe.”