Bad Vibes (Inkspirationz Book 1) Read online

  Sighing with a sense of relief, I toss aside my sheets as I sit up. What I should do to fill the day? I yawn, as my tired eyes move towards the clock. Maybe this is the opening I need to get my memorial piece. Pushing my hair off my face, I cross the room towards my personal bathroom, perks of being the descendant of the original Pres, I huff, under my breath.

  Walking past the mirror I’m met with the reflection of someone who hasn’t slept much in the last couple of days. A shower should help. I hope, I mumble, while moving to start the water. Removing the clothes, I slept in, I step inside the shower stall, drawing the curtain closed behind me. Allowing the water to pour over me I'm met with my second wind. Feeling the cracks in my back loosing with every twist and turn under the spray, I swear I hear someone outside the stall but it hard to be sure with the water running.

  Reaching for the two in one hair and body wash, I lather up completely unaware someone else is in the room until the curtain flies open and Diamond's standing before me naked and hung-over. “Room for one more?” she chimes, shaking her tits with no shame.

  “You know there’s not.” I retort, turning my back on her. Just because she was my sister's best friend, didn’t mean I was automatically going to hook up with her, especially now that Ashley’s gone.

  “Awh come, Brody. Your return must be a sign, right?”

  “I didn’t come back for you if that’s what you’re implying Diamond.” I state, closing the curtain in her face.

  I didn’t come back here for anyone but the memories.

  “Come on Brody, I’m so lonely without Ash, it’s literally killing me from the inside out.” She exaggerates, even though some of it might be true.

  “I’m sorry you’re feeling like that Diamond, but I really can’t help you.”

  “There’s one way you could help me.” She says, dragging the curtain back open. “I’m sure we can think of something.” She smirks, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “That’s enough.” I bark, covering myself from her wandering eyes. “Go find EZ or Buck if you’re looking for a good time. I’m sure either one of them will be willing to meet your needs.” I bite, closing the curtain again.

  “But I want you.” She presses, this time with more of a whine.

  “We both know that isn’t going to happen, Diamond. It wasn’t in the cards back then and it certainly isn’t now.” I express, turning my back to the curtain.

  “I think it’s what Ashley would have wanted for us.” She suggests, doing her best to keep this debate going.

  But she’s not here.

  “Go find someone else. It’s not happening.”

  “Whatever, I’ll find someone else who gives a damn.” She threatens, slamming the bathroom door behind her on the way out.

  She’s wrong though. It’s not that I don’t care, it’s that I care too much.

  Chapter 2

  Scarlett

  October 2019, Toronto

  Turning the corner on our sunny street of Toronto, I’ve got my coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other, as I head towards the studio. With my thoughts focused on my son’s third birthday and the costumes we should wear for our first ‘real’ Halloween when my boot catches on a crack in the sidewalk for the third time this morning. Damn bad vibes, I mutter, please stay away, I warn under my breath. I’m under enough stress worrying about Jacob’s birthday and all the ways it could go wrong, I don’t need anything else getting caught in the mix.

  With indecision, I bring my smoke towards my lips as my eyes are drawn to someone’s movement as they pace back and forth outside the studio. Who arrives this early looking for ink? I remark, taking a deeper pull on my fading smoke, doesn’t he see the sign that says we’re not open until ten? I groan under my breath, it’s barely half past nine, I acknowledge, glancing down at the expensive watch I borrowed from Izzy on my way out.

  Growing closer I freeze as ‘the pacer’ turns their back to me. Is that a Glory Bound’s cut he’s sporting? I gasp as the eagle logo stares back at me. I haven’t seen anyone from the Club since Hondo helped me. If someone is here for me, what happened to him? I tremble with my smoke posed inches from my lips. Guess it was only a matter of time before they wanted something. I mumble, then take a drag.

  Approaching the studio with apprehension, I inhale the last of my smoke tossing it into the bucket I’ve strategically placed by the door in hopes of persuading our clients from tossing their dirty butts all over the street. With his back still turned, I swear that cut is mocking me. What could they possibly want now? I cross my arms.

  Taking advantage of the upper hand, I can’t help but observe this guy a little more closely as he anxiously drags his hand through his dark hair. It’s kind of refreshing to see someone from the Club waiting on me for a change, I smirk, as the allure of his cut stirs up uneasy feelings.

  Turning towards my coffee for comfort, ‘the pacer’ slightly turns to the right and I swear my eyes are playing tricks on me. Frantically searching the sleeve for the red lettering, I spent countless hours learning to sew, there’s no way this stranger could possibly have my dad’s missing cut. Could there?

  Clearing the emotion from my throat, I’m unable to contain my anger towards this Club any longer, “Nice of the Club to send someone.” I blurt, drawing his attention as I push forward.

  Turning my way with confusion, he says, “Excuse me?”

  “Your cut. You’re a member of the Glory Bound’s, right?” I deadpan as he glances down at his cut. “You can tell whoever’s pulling the strings that Kurt and I are doing just fine, no thanks their help.” I breath on a hurried breath as I bring my coffee towards my lips a little too quickly. “Fuck.” I curse, as the hot beverage burns my lips and this asshole just stares at me with his dark eyes. “Are you going to say something or just stand there watching me all morning like a complete idiot?” I snap, feeling the burn settle in to my lips.

  Opening his mouth to say something, suddenly I’m not interested in his excuses, or better yet the Club’s excuses. “If you’re not here on Club business then what’s the envelope?” I accuse, narrowing my eyes at his unsuspecting face.

  “Just some ideas for a back piece,” he finally speaks up, reaching for the tension in his neck.

  So, the Club’s not looking for me? “You’re here for ink?” I ask with confusion.

  “Is there a problem?” He stammers, as if he’s seen a ghost or something. “I’m sure I could find another studio willing to take my business if so.” He suggests, clutching the envelope under his arm a little tighter.

  I didn’t think I came on that strong, did I?

  I worry, as his face continues to take on a different expression, one I can’t put into words. Pressing my lips together I’m prepared to turn him away but apart of me knows it’s unwise to send away what might be some good business. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’d never hear the end of it if I turned away a member of the “Glory Bounds.” I relent, embellishing the Club’s name a little more than necessary. “I’m not open until ten, but you’re welcome to come inside and wait while I open for the day.” I offer over my shoulder as I punch in the studio’s security code.

  “Thanks.” He whispers, growing too close.

  Eager to keep the distance between us, I quickly twist the key in the lock and push the door open with a little more force than necessary. “Are you connected to the Club?” He asks, making conversation.

  “Ah, yeah.” I blurt, freeing myself from being caged in.

  “Huh.” He chuckles. “You never did tell me your name.”

  “That’s because I didn’t give it.” I supply, reaching for the lights on our way in. “Besides, I don’t believe I got yours either.” I retort.

  “Brody.” He calls from across the room.

  “Scar.” I return.

  “Scar huh?” He smiles, and I hate myself for noticing. “Is that a nickname?”

  “It’s a short form for Scarlett.” I offer, not wanting to share wh
ere the nickname originally stemmed from.

  Moving around the front desk, I open the schedule for the day. “I’m fully booked today and some of tomorrow too, but we could get something on the books tomorrow, say late afternoon, depending on the size of the piece?"

  “I think that could work.” He nods, as one of his callused hands drags through his hair.

  I love the low fade hairstyle on a tough guy.

  I smirk, as his hand moves to scratch his nicely kept full beard.

  If he doesn’t put it in one of those man buns that make it look like balls bobbing on top of his head.

  I giggle, under my breath as he just stands there staring at me with a blank expression.

  Observing the ink that already covers most of his arms, I can’t help but wonder how far it extends? “So, what do you have there?” I ask, as my eyes lower to the large envelope he’s been carrying.

  “It’s a compile of idea’s I’ve gathered for the piece.” He explains, turning a shade of white as he hands me a stack of photos from the envelope.

  “Are you feeling okay?” I ask, with a hint of worry as his hand shakes in front of me.

  He must work in a profession where his hands are his tools. I pause, defiantly garage. I smirk, as the familiar smell of motor oil and sweat hangs in the air between us.

  Skimming through the photos, I notice they’re mostly filled with Glory Bounds patches, bikes, and random members I know nothing about. Coming across a portrait I nod. “I’m assuming this is either a dedication or memorial piece?”

  “Memorial.” He speaks up, as his eyes struggle to hold back emotion.

  “Are we tattooing just the one bike?” I ask, flipping back through the few photos to double check, “Or is there another in the mix?” I tip my chin.

  “There will be another one.” He starts, as he nervously rings his hands together. “I just haven’t been able to track down a detailed photo.”

  Knowing what it’s like to lose a family member to this Club, I soften. “No worries. It looks like you’ve given me a good amount to get me started.” I offer. “Now you said this was going to be a back piece, right?”

  “Right.” He nods, as his hip leans against the desk.

  “Now memorial pieces are generally done on the chest, but from the looks of you, you’ve already got a sizeable amount of work done am I right?” I smirk, as the temperature in here grows a little warmer.

  “I’m no stranger that’s for sure.” He smiles, and I’m kind of shocked to see a white smile hidden behind his lips.

  “Do you mind if I trace your shape? Not only will it give me a better idea of the space I’ll be working with, but I’ll also be able to work off a scale so that everything will flow together evenly.” I suggest, as he nods with compliance.

  Tearing my eyes away, he shakes out of his cut and folds it over once before lying it carefully on the desk in front of me.

  Are all the members of this Club as careful with their cut as he is?

  Crouching, I reach into the bottom drawer of the desk and dig out a few long sheets of paper we use for sketching. Popping back up, he’s already in the middle of removing his plain black t-shirt, and it’s enough to make my eyes roll.

  Turning his back towards me, I’m able to see that his tattoos extend up his arms but fall short just before his shoulder blades, leaving his entire back free for work. “Perfect.” I chant, moving around the desk. “Do you have any objections on the size of the piece?” I ask, drawing the paper up to his back. “Like do you want it strictly across the top which means you’d still have room at your lower back for something else?” I offer, touching the muscles in his back.

  “I was thinking just the scene across the top with the bikes in front and the portraits kind of hoovering behind them. If that makes any sense?” He asks, as his lip curls.

  “Totally.” I agree, shaking my head. “Um, you’re a little taller up close, would you mind just sitting on one of those benches while I trace your shoulders?” I motion across the room to the waiting lounge.

  “You are pretty compact, huh?” He teases, raising his brow.

  Playing along, I lead the way. “I’ll have you know, I come in at five feet okay. There’s nothing wrong with being on the short side now is there?” I chuckle.

  Shaking his head with amusement, he laughs with me. “Not at all.”

  Once we’ve crossed the room and Brody’s seated, I’m now able to see his other tattoos in the reflection of the mirror. Observing the detail within each piece I come across a bullet wound hidden beneath the eagle on his chest. “So, what’s the story behind this memorial piece?” I whisper, as our eyes meet in the mirror. “Unless it’s private?”

  Hanging his head with emotion, he whispers. “Not at all.” As the hair he just pushed over his shoulder slips back into his face.

  He looks sad.

  I realize, and for the first time in years my heart hurts for someone else, like literally hurts. “A few years ago, my sister died, and the moment we buried her my dad spiraled out of control. He stopped taking care of himself and hit the bottle way too much.” He pauses, as our eyes hold each other in the mirror. “On the first anniversary of her death, my dad drank himself into such a stupor he had no business doing anything but instead he took off on his bike.”

  “Shit.” I drag out, knowing this story can’t end well if we’re doing a memorial piece.

  “So, he took off and no one could find him for days. That was until someone spotted him in a ditch.” His breath catches in his chest before he heavily exhales his emotions. “The bike had him pinned and since he was so wasted and stupid, he didn’t have the strength to push it off himself.”

  I nod with acknowledgement.

  “Anyways, he was found alive, but the extent of his injuries was beyond the doctor’s repair and he died from a blood infection of all things.”

  “Oh wow. I’m sorry he went through that.” I offer, placing my hand on his solid shoulder for comfort, not myself but for him, all this talk about the Club and the loss of a parent is setting off my own issues regarding my father’s death.

  Communicating through the mirror, he asks, “How about you?”

  “What about me?” I reply.

  “What’s you’re connection to the Club?” He presses, while I busy myself by tracing the length of his shoulders.

  “I don’t like to talk about my history with the Club if that’s alright.” I whisper, feeling put on the spot.

  Trying to draw my eyes back towards the mirror, he says, “How come?”

  “Because it’s not something I like to share with strangers okay.” I fire off a little too quickly. “I’m sorry, the Club and I don’t really meet eye to eye if you know what I mean?” I explain, as I’m removing the sheet from his back.

  “I take it they did something you didn’t agree with?” He presses, as he slips back into his shirt.

  “You could say that.” I offer, placing the paper inside my portfolio to keep it crisp. “As for the photos, would you rather I photocopy these or are you alright leaving them with me for the time being?”

  “Awh.” He starts as his sad brown eyes search mine.

  “I’ll take good care of them, I promise.” I offer, placing my hand over my chest as my eyes briefly lower towards his lips.

  Why’d I look at his lips?

  “I do have clients booked in all day today, so I won’t get a chance to start piecing your sketch together until tonight, but I assure you I’ll tuck them away safely into my filing cabinet until I need them.” I explain as I move around the desk.

  Watching his jaw do that nervous twitch thing, he finally surrenders the envelope.

  “How soon can you bring me a photo of the other bike?” I ask over my shoulder as I move into my station.

  “I could probably track one down tonight and bring it by tomorrow, if that works?”

  “Perfect. I’ll see how much I can get sketched tonight and give you more of a window on lying down
some ink when you bring in the other photo tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good.” He nods, as something crosses his expression.

  “I’ll give you one of our cards.” I start, leading us back towards the front desk. “That way if something comes up with the Club or you’re still having trouble tracking down that photo, you can let me know and we’ll just reschedule.” I offer, extending him the card. “Here you go.”

  Taking the card that’s designed after the studio’s sign, he nods with a, “Thank you.”

  “No problem.” I nod back. “But if you don’t mind, I need to get setup for my client.” I explain, as my eyes anxiously move toward the clock.

  “Right.” He nods again, as he allows me to guide him towards the exit. “I’ll see what I can do about the photo.” He offers, as his eyes settle on me one last time before slipping out the door.

  Chapter 3

  Brody

  Once her identity had been revealed, I couldn’t get a thought or word in edgewise as she rushed me out the door. Snake’s from the Chicago Charter originally, so how is it possible his daughter is in Toronto?

  Approaching my bike in a daze, a gust of wind picks up stirring the leaves around me into a funnel. Shit, I curse under my breath, I should probably wait this out somewhere?

  Strolling down the block towards Emerson’s Diner, I duck my head inside through the service entrance, “Hey,” I call out, clapping my buddy, who also happens to be the owner of this establishment, on the back, “looks like I arrived at the perfect time,” I tease, as David looks up from a batch of his famous homemade burgers.

  Shaping the last burger, he replies, “Oh, hey man, what brings you by?” Over his shoulder as he’s shaping out the last burger.

  Burying my hands inside my pockets, I shrug with a, “Nothing’, I was just down the block and thought I’d pop in while I wait out that wind storm.”

  Moving to see the storm himself, he backs up to look out. “Where about?”

  Bouncing on my heels, I smirk, “Inkspirationz Tattoo Studio.”