Page 16 of Ink

My brow lifted, mocking his condescending tone. “Do you have an appointment?”

The slight tick of his jaw that I didn’t rush to find Ink let me know he was annoyed.

“I don’t need one.”

“Everyone needs one.”

One of the white goonies in the back pushed forward, the aggression in his movements making me tense. “Just call your boss to the front,puta.”

The accented way he butchered the insult made me want to sigh.

“You gringos and your privilege,” I said, surprising them with my own perfect English. Their eyes widened and I smirked. What? A brown woman in Mexico couldn’t speak English? I wanted to laugh in their faces at that bias. “You always want things done as soon as you order it. Understand, no one sees Ink without an appointment, got it?”

What I didn’t tell them was that Ink wasn’t in. Neither was Fer. They’d gone to a local class to teach piercings and tattoos, but they wouldn't be long. I opened to clean and set appointments. They still had afternoon clients to see. I just hoped the silence in the back wasn’t so glaringly obvious.

The angry goon looked like he wanted to reach for me, maybe strangle me.

For a moment the darker side of me wanted it.Fuck with me and find out, gringo pendejo.

But the leader of the bunch put a hand to his chest and they stepped back.

“You tell Ink we stopped by.”

“Andwhoare you exactly?”

“He’ll know who we are.”

And with that, they left.

It wasn’t ten minutes later that Ink and Fer came into the shop. I was still at the counter breathing heavily when they arrived, chasing away the darkness that threatened to cloud my vision. But chasing nightmares was hard, and it was no wonder that those who did it were too afraid to dream.

Ink took one look at me and demanded, “What’s wrong?”

It was like wading through fog, and his voice was a beacon of light that I tried my damndest to get to. I recounted the events, my voice steady, though my heart thumped hard in my chest. Ink stepped in front of me, using his fingers to grasp my chin and tilt my head up.

“Did they hurt you?” he snarled.

I took a breath. His anger was like a balm to my soul, and it chased my own feelings away enough so that I could look into his eyes as I answered, “No.”

“But they frightened you.”

I didn’t say anything, not because I was afraid I’d appear weak, but because I was afraid I’d sound like a total loca. He let out a curse. “Xiomara, whenever anyone comes in and pulls shit like that, you call me immediately. I don’t give a fuck if I’m teaching a class or tattooing in the back. You tell me and I will come.”

I felt it. A promise of protection I somehow knew would never be broken. I swallowed tightly as I nodded.

“Okay.”

“Fer, watch her. I need to call Loco.”

He left, taking the heat with him as he dug into his pockets and fished out his phone. His presence was replaced with Fer’s, her eyes soft with concern.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Who’s Loco?”

“The president of Los Diablos.”

“Why is he going to call him?”

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