Page 28 of For Fillies and Monsters

I couldn’t be bothered to change.

Because I needed to do this, worse than I needed to see tomorrow. Which is a slim chance, knowing how pissed McCrae is going to be.

But it will be worth it.

“Can I help you, cowboy?” The woman’s voice hits me, the magnitude of my choices pressing down on me like a crate of bricks. I nod and take the black cowboy hat from my head, eyeing her.

“I need to get a tattoo,” I state, the words like fire pouring from my lips. “Now, if possible.”

She nods, her pierced brow raising. “I see. Well, we do walk-ins, and lucky for you, you came at a slow time. Curious, though, what’s with the get-up?”

I roll my shoulders and look back down at my taped, gloved hand. I really do look like a lunatic. I start unwrapping the tape and then look back up at her, slightly embarrassed, but too desperate to stop now. “When you know, you know.”

Something about my words strike her, and she smiles, a silver bar peeking out from beneath her top lip. It’s not my style, but she looks like a badass. And if I am ruining the plans for my future tonight, I’m glad I have a badass here to help make it happen.

“Well, let’s get you ready. You’ll need to take off—” she points at my gear, “whatever that is, before we get started. What do you want and where?”

“A name, and on my leg.” I get the remaining tape off my wrist and yank at the glove.

Her brows raise at that. “A name, huh? Anyone special?”

Her question catches me off guard. Kind of nosy, if you ask me. “Yes.” No sense in lying.

“I only ask because most people would say getting a name on you is bad luck, unless they’re dead. Are they dead?”

Her bedside manner could use some fucking work. But then again, I’m a growly bastard, so what do I know? “No, she’s not.”

“Hmmm.” She swivels in her chair, a thoughtful expression taking over her heavily metaled face. Surely she isn’t going to deny me. They can’t do that, can they? “Are you sure you want to risk ruining what you guys might have by inking yourself permanently?”

I step toward her, her questions making me more and more irritated. And desperate. I just gave up any future I might have had as a bronc rider to get this tattoo. Tonight. Right now. Because it is my new beginning. And she is really questioning me about that? About how serious my intentions are?

She might be a badass, but I’m starting to fucking hate her.

As if hearing my thoughts, she raises her hands in defeat. “Just want what’s best for you, is all. I’ll do it. Don’t get your nuts in a bunch.” Standing up, she walks around the counter and waves for me to follow her into the back, where the sound of buzzing and quiet chatter fills my ears. “Ever got a tattoo before, cowboy?”

“My name is Gus. And no.”

She whistles, the sound shrill amongst the buzzing. “You’re in for a treat. Now take off that riggin’ stuff and drop your pants.”

“I have a girl,” I start with a snarl, already beginning to unfasten my chaps, but she cuts me off.

“No fucking shit. You’re permanently getting her name on your skin. And by the way, so do I, so glad we can clear the air.”

I bite my lip and silently curse myself for assuming she was into me. She doesn’t look like the type that would be. But Stetson has my mind all fucked up, and I don’t know up from down anymore. I sigh raggedly, pulling my pants off, and prop myself on the table. “Sorry, I just have made some major life-altering choices to get to this point tonight.”

She snaps her gloves on and then snorts. “Lucky girl. Now, any font you want this in, or can I freehand it? I have pretty good writing skills—” She points toward some samples on the wall.

I shake my head. They’re good, her talent not at all the problem. “I want it in my own handwriting.”

“Fuck, why didn’t you just carve it into your skin with a knife?”

“Trust me, if I could reach the spot I want it at, I would have.”

TEN

STETSON

March 30th, 2024

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