Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Depends on where. You get used to it.” Preacher could be sitting by the kitchen counter, having his morning coffee for all he reacts while Wraith stabs the ink into his skin, brushing the excess away as he works.
“Why do you get them?”
He grins. “I wanna be one of the cool kids.”
I roll my eyes at him. “There has to be more to it than that.”
“For some of them, sure. But I also just like tattoos. Art I've got with me all the time. Each one reminds me of who I was when I picked it, even the stupid ones. Wraith, I gotta settle a moment.”
Wraith sits back so Preacher can move, and then he's back to it. The tattoo gun buzzes loudly as he draws with a steady hand. It's soothing to watch, more than I thought it would be.
“Sure you don't want one?” It's Preacher’s turn to try to convince me. “I think you'd look fucking cute. No better way to tell the world you're done being Daddy's good little girl.”
“I don't know if… I mean, would it suit me?” I need to stop saying no to things just because they scare me a little. I don’t know if I do want one, but I don’t want to refuse because of what someone else would think.
“I think it’d be fucking hot, but if you're gonna do it, do it for you. We broke you out to get you free, not lock you in a different cell.” There's a glint in his dark eye. “Though if you want to get tied up a little, just say the word.”
What!?
“Take a look around,” says Wraith. “All those books over there? Photos of work I’ve done and sketches. If you want something complicated it takes time and planning, but smaller shit can be done whenever. Preach is right. Never mark yourself for someone else.”
“I'll just look.” I push off the chair while my mind whirrs. Am I serious? I mean, a tattoo is so not me, but sitting here surrounded by people covered in ink with so much gorgeous art on the walls, it’s kind of tempting. Flipping through his portfolio, it's obvious Wraith is super talented. I don't know that I want one, but if I were to get one, what would I want? I keep flipping.
By the time Preacher is done, I've decided. I hold open one of the books for Wraith to see. “Something like this one. Here.” I point.
He grins. “You're sure? Seriously, I'm not going to be fucking blamed for bullying you into it. This is something you want?”
I think about it, but then I nod. “Yeah.”
He glances at Preacher, who shrugs. “Up to her. Put it on our tab.”
“All right, let me clean up the space and get a fresh gun, and we'll get you done.”
I can't believe I'm doing this.
24
SUMMER
I'm not sure beer will ever be my favorite, but Preacher insisted. “Always good to celebrate a new tattoo,” he said, “but don't go overboard. Let the body heal.”
Well, given that this is the second beer I’ve had in my life and I barely sipped the first one, I have no idea what overboard is. If they’re all this bitter, it won’t be hard to avoid. Maybe I'm more of a wine girl. Or those fancy drinks Devil bought me. Those were good.
Just then, Devil and Crash appear around the corner, coming from the direction of their quarters. They come straight for me like I’ve been gone a week instead of hours. I squeak and pull my legs up, backing as far into the couch as I can.
“Where were you?” asks Crash, and I’m not a fan of how accusatory it sounds.
Devil looks more interested in checking me out in my new outfit.
“Jesus, stand down, man,” growls Preacher. “She was with me. You were dead to the world so I took her out for food.”
“Did one of the sluts loan her some clothes?” Devil asks.
“What did you just say?” I gasp. I glare up at him. “Some of the girls found me clothes. It was really nice of them. You don't have to be mean about it.”
Preacher laughs. “He didn’t mean it like that. Look, it's what the girls who hang out around the club for fun are called. So yeah, he’s not wrong. Seriously. Tell her, Jewel.”
The girl behind the bar who got us beers looks up. “Huh? Oh, yeah. It’s a biker thing, like old lady. Most of the girls wear it like a badge of honor. It’s something they do for fun or safety for a while and then move on.” Crash and Devil nod in agreement.
“Aren’t there better words to use?”
She laughs. “Oh, there’s a lot of ‘em, but most don’t sound any better and mean the exact same thing.”
“Are you…?” Ugh, I need to get better at swearing.