Tymber loved how responsive she was to his words and touch. Since the first time they’d made love, she never shied away from whatever he suggested. His girl liked it soft, hard, sweet, or dirty. Whatever way he chose to give it to her, Ivy loved it. “Come on inside, I have a couple dickheads wanting to say hi.”
Ivy lifted her head. “I came to see if you would ...give me another tattoo. Remember when we talked about what I wanted?”
His mind raced. One night after they’d made love, she said she wanted to get another tattoo, this one she wanted to see about doing something like the semi-colon, only making it personal. When he’d realized the significance, his mind began working on designs for the suicide symbol and how he could personalize it for her.
“Yeah, I have a couple of drawings for you, but if you don’t like them, I can start over.” He brushed his lips over hers again, unable to stop himself. “Come on, let’s take a look.” He took a step back, keeping one arm around her.
Ivy looked at the shop next door. “High Maintenance? I’ve heard of that salon. One of the Ole’ Ladies goes there. I really need a new stylist. Maybe I’ll stop in there one day.” She nodded toward the closed shop with the colorful window front.
“They’re usually open. Not sure what’s up.” Tymber held the door to his shop open, the familiar buzz of the tattoo guns filling the air.
“Yo, Ivy, you ready to leave him for me yet?” Lincoln asked, not looking up from the woman he was tattooing.
Lux snorted. “Sure, she’ll leave the good one for the bad seed.”
“That hurts. Come kiss it better.” Lincoln scooted back and spread his legs.
“Pretty sure that’s sexual harassment.” She pretended to write a note in the air. “Keeping notes, boss man,” she said without heat.
Lincoln grinned. “I like the way that rolls off your tongue. I want to hear it when you...”
Lux held her hand up. “If you finish that, I will come over there and staple your lips shut.” She held the stapler up, making it click together.
“I’m not into that kind of shit, that’s Ember’s gig.” He pointed his free hand at the other man.
Ember raised his head, eyes narrowed. “You’re just jealous. Besides, how do you know if you’d like it or not if you haven’t tried it? Am I right?” He asked the room at large.
The woman lying on Lincoln’s table laughed. “I think you’re all nuts, but then again, I’m lying here getting a tattoo by my ex’s enemy, so it’s all relative.
Silence fell on the entire room.
“Um, who is your ex?” Lincoln asked.
She turned her head, meeting his blue gaze. “Tommy Pelosi.”
The name didn’t mean shit to Tymber, but it had Lincoln freezing, his usual friendly gaze hardening. “What the fuck are you doing in my shop?”
“Tommy and I got divorced yesterday. I wanted to do something...for myself, and this was something he forbid me to do.”
Lincoln pushed away from the table, running his hand down his face. “What? Get a tattoo, or get a tattoo from me? ‘Cause either one would put you in the shit house with him. Fucking Pelosi’s woman.”
“Man, you gonna be able to finish, or you need me to come in clutch?” Ember asked.
“Nah, I just finished. I was getting ready to clean her up.” He took a deep breath.
Tymber looked at Ivy, then at the woman. “Give me a minute?”
Ivy nodded.
“Here, let me take care of that,” he offered, holding his hand out for the solution bottle they sprayed on a tattoo before wiping away the excess ink. Lincoln shook his head, holding the bottle tighter.
“I got it. Lux, this one’s on me. Can you print the aftercare instructions out for Mrs. Pelosi, please?” His tone was neutral, the same one he used on clients he didn’t know.
Tymber and Ember stayed close, not because they didn’t trust Lincoln, but because he was their brother, maybe not in blood, but by choice. They’d been through war together. They’d lost other brothers in countries they didn’t belong, yet their bond stayed strong, and they stayed best friends. Whatever was going down, had gone down before they knew one another, wouldn’t change their dynamics.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Th...this was my taking back something he took from...never mind. Thank you for this.” She waved at her thigh.
The piece his friend had done was a work of art and had gone up almost to the woman’s panty line. If her ex ever sees it, it would mean he was up close and personal to her private parts.