Page 87 of Torch
I was concerned about my lady watching others being tattooed, especially if Elise, for example, struggled with the pain. For some people, it really does fucking hurt, but I wanted to try and ease Grace’s fears, so she wouldn’t run from the chair before Has could get his tattoo gun anywhere near her. I was still struggling with trust issues after the shit with Micro, so I wanted Has to be the one to do hers, because even though it meant a guy had to touch her, I knew he’d treat her with respect, and be as gentle as he could, and he knew I’d break his face if he didn’t.
Grace was having breakfast with the other old ladies, hopefully so they could set her mind at ease about the tattooing part of it, because I was still scared she’d back out. I was sitting at the bar, nursing a cup of coffee after a mostly sleepless night, because guess what, when you see your best friend nearly die, after him turning out to be a psycho, nightmares are a thing.
“A word, man?” Rocket sat down beside me, and nodded at Tommy to get him a coffee, and then waved him away, so clearly this was something personal.
“What’s up?”
“You got a problem with me?” I swivelled on the stool so I could look at him, because this was coming from nowhere, as far as I was concerned.
“No, why? You got one with me?”
He scratched at his beard, but he was agitated as fuck, and that was just one of his tells.
“Does Has have one with me?”
“You’d have to talk to him, man, but I thought you guys were tight. What’s going on? I’m not exactly in the mood for twenty questions here.”
He gripped his coffee mug tightly, glaring down at it like somehow it was to blame for whatever the fuck was going on in his head. Last I heard, he was sneaking around with some lady, and he’d seemed in a pretty good place, all things considered.
“How are things with your lady?”
His eyes met mine again. “Don’t change the subject, Torch. Suddenly I’m persona non fucking grata, and I need to know why. I’m not Micro. I haven’t done shit like he did, and I never would, so why the fuck am I suddenly not allowed to tattoo women? You think I’m gonna mess with someone else’s old lady? I’m a better fucking man than that.” He’d lifted his coffee, but he slammed it down again, as more aggression made its way into his words.Fuck.
“Rocket-”
“If your old ladies have some kind of fear of me, you need to tell them I’m cool. I’d never be a danger to a woman, and I’ve tattooed a lot of them over the years. You want fucking references from a bunch of them first?” I never expected him to even realise we were pulling this shit, or that it’d bother him, but maybe that’s because of how my head’s been firmly up my ass for ages now.
“Jesus, I’m sorry, man. That’s not what’s going on at all.” Or was it? I lifted my shoulders slightly, because maybe I was bullshitting him right now.
“Okay, look, Grace, in particular, knows Has better than you, and she barely knows him either. It’s a comfort thing-”
“Plus you trust him more than me.” He got up, looking about ready to walk away, and I felt like a major asshole for not sorting this shit out sooner, because clearly he’d been stewing over it.
“Rocket-”
“You wanna know how many old ladies I’ve been allowed to tattoo? Two, that’s how many. Am I such a fucking monster to these women? Or am I just so shit at tattoos, my fucking lifelong career, by the way, that you don’t want me doing them?”
I stood up too, because something about having another man hovering over me like that didn’t feel so good right now. We were all still fucked up over Micro, and tempers were short, but this wasn’t an actual thing that anyone had been bothered about, right?
“Look, man, if you can stop talking over me for five fucking minutes, I’ll explain.”
“Forget it. Why don’t you see about getting Has to tat himself and you at your ceremony too, because I’m out.”
Jesus fuck. I watched him walking away, because I had no idea what to say to fix this, and surely it wasn’t just on me anyway. Clearly we’d been making him feel like a fucking monster for ages, but what was the alternative? Let him put his hands on my old lady? Not in my fucking lifetime.
Forty-Five
ItrackeddownHas-Been,nodding hello to Elise as he opened their door and let me in. I guess she hadn’t gone to lunch with the other old ladies, or she’d come back early, but then, it wasn’t really my fucking business was it? We had another issue to deal with first.
“Everything okay, brother?” Every time I saw the guy, it was a shock to the system, because I’d known him for years, and he’d always had those blonde dreadlocks, and now he just had short blonde stubble on his head, not even quite a buzzcut yet, and it was most often covered with a beanie. He ran a hand self-consciously over his scalp when he saw me staring.
“I was too warm for the hat,” he said sheepishly, glancing around him for it.
“I just figured you were trying out looking like me, man. It looks good on ya, but you need a scalp tattoo to really pull it off.”
He smirked, pushing aside his hair worries, and pointing to the sofa, while Elise scurried into the kitchen.
“I’m making coffee, do you want one, Torch?”
