2
LEXI
Slamming down the phone, I exhale harshly, muttering curses under my breath. I’m glad Blossom hasn't updated the phone at the front counter and still uses an old school landline. Tapping an icon on a screen to hang up on assholes isn’t nearly as satisfying as physically slamming the phone onto the cradle.
“I don’t have the patience to deal with these disrespectful dickholes today,” I murmur to myself, pinching the bridge of my nose. On a normal day, they wouldn’t get to me this easily, but—who am I kidding? They sure as fuck would. People irritate the shit out of me on the daily. But today, I’m exhausted. Today is one of those days where my coffee needs coffee. Hell, I’d settle for a steady IV drip at this point. If it were possible, mainlining caffeine straight to my veins might be enough to get me through the rest of the day.
I scoff. Doubt it.
“Another late night?”
“Something like that,” I mutter in answer, turning to see Blossom heading straight for me.
“Maybe this will perk you up.” She grins, sliding a cup of coffee toward me.
I waste no time taking a drink, almost moaning as the bitter liquid slides down my throat. “Not fucking likely, but I thank you for your efforts.”
“This one have a name?” she asks, pinning me with her bright blue eyes as she leans against the glass counter.
“Nope.” Popping the “p.” I smile on the inside at her assumption that my late night was because of a man. I also don’t correct it.
“Mmhmm,” she says, but before she can say anything else, or give me hell about finding a decent guy to settle down with, her next client strolls through the front door.
I turn to her with a wide smile. “Blossom, your one o’clock is here.”
She gives me a knowing look and rolls her eyes, but thankfully, lets it go, greeting her client and disappearing with him down the hall.
Ever since Gareth and April’s sweet sister, December, got together, Blossom has been obsessed with the rest of us finding love. I know she means well—she only wants to see us happy—but she should know better. I don’t need a man to make me happy, at least not full time. Give me a man on an hourly basis who can provide an orgasm or two and I’ll be tickled pink.
Sadly, this girl got zero orgasms last night.
Or any night recently.
No, my lack of sleep had nothing to do with a guy, and everything to do with family. My home life is… well, I guess difficult is the best way to put it. No matter how much I love Blossom, things are complicated with my sisters, and that’s not something I choose to share. With anyone. Our business is exactly that—ours. I’ll let her go on believing I had some wild night with a random guy. It’s better that way.
In reality, Hope is struggling again, and it’s taking a toll on the rest of us. As products of the system—with the exception of Penny—we’re all a little fucked up, but Hope… she’s a little more fucked up than the rest of us. If it weren’t for our history, and the fact that we’re helping raise her daughter, Mercy, we might have washed our hands of her a long time ago. It sounds harsh, but relationships with her tend to drift into toxic territory. She’s a compulsive liar, struggles with addiction, and has more secrets than the government.
At the end of the day, though, she’s family and we aren’t ready to give up on her.
As usual, something is going on with her, but she won’t tell us a damn thing. She’s in and out of the house at all hours, starting petty arguments, and pretending Mercy doesn’t exist. As far as I know, she’s still clean and sober, so at least there’s that. Riley left days ago, refusing to put up with Hope’s shit. I’ve been spending every free minute I have helping Penny keep Mercy out of the line of Hope’s fire. No five-year-old should have to deal with their mother’s erratic moods and lack of attention.
The whole situation is screwed up, but we’re doing the best we can without completely writing her off. More and more lately, I’ve been wondering if it’ll come down to that. I’m at my wits end and I don’t know what else to do. We can’t keep going on like this. No one is getting any sleep, we’re all stressed beyond belief, and tension in the house is at an all-time high.
So, yeah. I fucking wish I was exhausted from being dicked down. I could use a night out, a few drinks, and some stress relief in the form of mind-blowing orgasms that don’t come from my own hand.
My mind flashes back to the guy from the Chinese restaurant the other day. He caught my attention as soon as he got out of his car. Tall and built, dark, but not seemingly dangerous. All raw masculinity in a tight tee and worn denim. Exactly my type. Nice body, handsome face, and so fucking delicious. Too bad I was still on the clock and had to walk away. I should have slipped him my number. He would have been a perfect late-night snack.
After another cup of coffee, I’m feeling more awake, but my mood hasn’t improved in the slightest. By the time Blossom finishes with her client and comes back to the front, I’ve made it through a few more phone calls with insufferable assholes, kicked out a couple of teenagers trying to pass off fake IDs, and barely resisted breaking the fingers of one particularly special jackass who needed a lesson on keeping his hands to himself.
I’m so done.
Ordinarily, I love my job, but not today.
“Is it Monday?” I ask Blossom after her client leaves. “It feels like a Monday.”
“Has it been that bad?”
“People are being extra today. I’ve never had to bite my tongue so much. I swear, it’s like someone declared it ‘Piss Off Lexi Day’ or something.”
The phone rings again and I barely contain a growl. I answer the call, glancing over at Blossom as she checks her calendar for the rest of the day. She’s not even trying to hide her amusement as I tell the guy on the phone that he needs to set up an appointment for custom work. Her amusement only grows as I roll my eyes and explain to the prick for the third time that he can try walking in—because yes, we do take walk-ins—but we can’t guarantee an artist will be available to sit down for a design consultation. He finally seems to get it, so I get him on the schedule and hang up, dropping my forehead to the cool glass counter.
Blossom’s laughter reaches my ears and I lift my head, shooting her a nasty glare. “You’re lucky I love you or else I would have quit a long time ago.”
She waves me off and laughs louder. “You love it here too much. You’ll never leave.”
I hate that she’s right. I despise dealing with irritating people all day, but I do love the shop. It’s like a second home. Blossom and the guys are like extended family. It would take an act of God to make me leave.
But I have been thinking about making a change, taking a chance.
There’s no time like the present.
“Hey, Blossom?” She hums but doesn’t look up from the screen in front of her. I know her well enough to know I have her attention, even if it doesn’t seem that way. “What are the chances you’d take on another appren—”
“Nope,” she cuts me off. “Not a chance in hell.”
“Not even if it were me?”
Her head whips up and she looks at me, eyes wide and brimming with excitement. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I’ve been—”
“For you, yes! Hell, if I would have known you wanted to learn, I would have put a machine in your hand a long time ago.”
“Right the fuck on. I’m ready whenever you are.”
Blossom laughs at my eagerness, and a smile finally breaks through the shitty mood I’ve been in all day. I feel almost giddy. Almost. But I’m not the giddy type. I am fucking happy though. In all the time I’ve worked here, Blossom has never taken on an apprentice. I’ve heard horror stories about the last one she had, the one who made her swear she would never take on another.
Me being me, I’ve gotta give her a little shit, even though she totally made my day. “Thought there was no chance in hell?”
“You’re the only exception. I know you, Lex. You’ve worked here for years. You have a strong work ethic, and despite the fact that you’re a bitch, you’re good with the clients. I’ve also seen you draw. You’ve got talent, and I don’t say that lightly. Most importantly… you respect me. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather mentor more than you.”
“Thank you,” I tell her, ignoring the stinging in my eyes.
Knowing I hate emotional shit, Blossom simply dips her head and moves on. “Besides, you’re ahead of the game since you already know the trade. Hell, you probably know this shop better than I do, and I own it. You get to skip all the hours any other apprentice would spend being the shop bitch, since you’ve held that position for years.”
“Ha. Ha,” I deadpan, giving her a sarcastic smile. “When can I start?”
“Tomorrow,” she tells me, grinning as she heads toward the hallway leading to her room. “We’ll get you started on the basics, but you’ll have to enroll in the necessary courses so you can take the exam to get your apprentice artist license.”
“And if I’ve already done that?”
Her grin gets wider. “Well, damn, Lexi. I should have known you were on top of it. Send my next client back when she gets here, would you? I have to get my station ready.”
I wait until she’s out of sight before I do a little happy dance right there at the front counter. Good news is good news, and Blossom taking me on as an apprentice is something to celebrate. I needed something positive to happen, and I’m excited to learn to tattoo. Drawing has always been an escape for me, something I do for only myself. Until recently, I never had the desire to do anything more with my ability to draw well. But I need a change, and something tells me that I’m making the right move.
I spend the next thirty minutes or so answering the phone and scheduling appointments. Thursdays are notoriously slow for some reason, so it’s only me and Blossom here today. I keep myself busy until her next client shows, then I walk her back to Blossom’s station. On the way, my phone starts buzzing relentlessly in my back pocket. As soon as I’m alone, I slip it out to check my notifications. My good mood instantly fades when I see a series of texts from Hope.
Hope: U need 2 come home