The fighter in the ring had fought in our club a few times now, and I was impressed with his skill level. I'd been running the fight club for the family for over three years. It was easy enough, and I enjoyed it for the most part. Plus, it had a level of freedom to spend my days as I wished.
Lately, my cousin was pressuring me to take on more of an upper-level role. The head of the family shift had left some open positions, but I wasn't interested in moving up. I liked my life the way it was, and I wanted more for myself.
Motioning toward my guard, I nodded for him to retrieve the fighter, Crash, after he won. It was clear he was the better man in the ring, and it was only a matter of time now before it was over. Just as I thought, he KO'd his opponent, proving my point.
At the ring of the bell announcing the end of the match, I glanced around the rest of the space. From my spot in the VIP section, I could see everything going on in the warehouse. There were other families doing business here, but it was neutral territory, and typically, there wasn't much trouble because of that.
Turning, I leaned back against the railing, eyeing who was in the VIP area tonight. Mandy, a bar girl, saw me looking and sauntered over, thinking she was hot shit. She was attractive by beauty standards, but she had no substance, and nothing about her was appealing to me.
"Nicolai, you're looking fine tonight. When are you going to tattoo me? I'll let you do whatever you want wherever you want," she purred, twisting her hair around her finger as she eyed me.
Did she think that was sexy? Because it screamed desperate to me.
"I'll have to check my schedule, doll. Excuse me, my cousin just entered, and I need to speak to him."
Thankfully, Atticus had shown up, offering me an excuse to leave her before she propositioned me a little less subtly next time.
"Cous! Did you catch any of the last fight?" I greeted.
Atticus and his guard, Sax, turned at my voice. I wasn't sure which of them looked more severe. I often wondered if they competed for who had the best resting asshole face. It would be a close call who'd win.
"Nicolai," Atticus nodded, "how's business tonight?"
"Good." I grinned wide. "The odds on the last fight were great, and we still have a few left to go. Should be a top-three night."
"That's good to hear. Any trouble?"
"Nah, man. Everyone is playing nice."
"Let's keep it that way. I met with a restaurant owner today about taking over his business. It's a sushi place. I would like your help with the project."
"Sushi? No shit. I bet Imogen is excited." At the mention of his sister, his facade cracked a little, smiling at my comment.
"That she is. I know you don't want more responsibility, but I would be inclined to do you a favor if you helped me with this. There is another matter I have to see to, and I need someone I can trust to handle this. It would mean a lot to Immy, as well."
"Ah, fuck, man. You had to bring her into it, didn't you?"
Running my hand down my face, I stepped back to think for a minute. Atticus was six years older than me, but we'd always been close. He was more of an older brother in my life, and it was hard to say no to him. And Imogen was my little sister. We grew up in that house together, and I wanted the world for her. Being owed a favor and making that girl smile, though, might be worth the headache this may create for me. Dropping my hand, I looked up at him, and his smug smile indicated he knew he had me.
"Fine. For a favor. Send me the details."
Fuck, I had a feeling I was going to regret this. Atticus made his rounds before leaving with Sax an hour later. Grabbing a drink at the bar, I realized the fighter "Crash" had never made it up here. Interesting.
* * *
It was finally a sociallyacceptable time for me to leave. Being the head of this club meant I had a certain expectation on how long I remained visible. It completely sucked when all I wanted to do was be anywhere else. Everything about this life I portrayed here was a facade; a trick made to have you think one thing. I was perceived as the fun-loving, careless cousin of the boss in the family.
Running the fighting rings to the underground was due to my ‘perceived' level of status. I had just enough clout to be given respect, but not enough that I was a real threat. Despite Atticus holding me in high regard, I still hadn't proved myself enough for other members. So the pressure to do more, show more commitment, was always there underneath every veiled comment from others.
This restaurant would be the first time I'd said yes to Atticus. I hoped it wouldn't bite me in the ass because I had plans, plans that fell outside the life of the mafia. Jumping on my bike, I took off for my second home. I'd purchased a little storefront last year, and the business was going well. It was a quick ride through the city to my shop, Ignite Ink.
The lights shined bright from the street as I parked my bike. The sign hung in the front window casting its glow onto the sidewalk. I sat back on my bike, my helmet in my hands and looked upon my shop with pride. This place was mine. Every detail about it meant something to me.
When I entered a few minutes later, the chime above the door alerted my crew to my arrival. The buzz of the tattoo gun could be heard along with some hard-rock music Davis had blaring. The atmosphere at the shop was relaxed and carefree, and I felt it chip away at the facade with each step I took.
Since it was well after midnight, only two employees were present. The shop tended to be open more than it was closed. The mornings mainly consisted of scheduled appointments, and the evenings tended to be more walk-ins. But with the variety of shifts and the four other tattoo artists, and our one piercer who worked with me, we all stayed busy.
It was my haven outside the family. No one here was connected to any of the underground and were people I'd meet on my own through tattoo conventions and shared interests. This place was something I'd built on my own, and I was damn fucking proud of it. Atticus knew of it, and had so far, allowed me to keep it clean. I hoped it stayed that way. I lived in dread of the day he asked me to do something for the family.