Page 7 of Four Tattoos
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I’m still thinking about the tattoo artists that night when I’m working at Club Red, and I don’t know why.
I wouldn’t say I really have a type, but if I did, none of them would be it. I usually fall for someone’s personality first, and none of the four men give me the warm fuzzies. Hutch is the only one who says much of anything, and he’s pretty gruff himself. But I’m clearly attracted to them; there’s no denying it, no matter how little sense it makes.
“How’s it going, Rose?” It’s my manager, Brittany. She used to work this front desk position not that long ago, and now she’s an assistant manager. Maybe it’s because she’s been in my shoes that she’s a very understanding boss, though I’ve seen her get tough when she needs to, on rare occasions.
Club Red is a great place to work so long as you don’t mind horny women, and I don’t—especially since I’ve been in that category myself since meeting the Brothers in Ink.
“Everything’s good,” I tell Brittany, giving her a big smile.
“Glad to hear it.”
A few minutes after she passes through, Callie, one of the cocktail waitresses, comes out from the showroom.
“Everything okay?” I ask when she slumps over my counter, resting her head on her folded arms.
Callie lets out a huff. “Yeah, fine. It’s just a rowdy crowd in there tonight, and I needed to come out and catch my breath.”
I give a little laugh at the image her words conjure.
“Can’t say I blame them, though,” she says. “The men are putting some extra spice in their moves tonight. I nearly dropped my tray of drinks twice already!”
“Really?”
“Whew—yes!” She mimics wiping sweat from her brow and then swivels her hips in imitation of the dancers’ moves. “It’s too bad you’re stuck out here and can’t watch them.”
I saw the full show once, and I have peeked in a few times when the lobby was empty. As I recall my reaction to the revue dancers, who are objectively very attractive, I realize that my body didn’t respond with anything close to the sensations it’s been producing when I’m around the tattoo artists.
“I’d better get back out there,” Callie says. “Those poor horned-up women need their cocktails.”
“See you later.” I watch her go, and realize that my yearnings are about as hopeless as those of the women in the audience here. Most of them will never have any actual interaction with the dancers who are performing for them, and I have no business lusting after men who are so much older than me, and so very wrong for me.
6
ZIPPER
“You gonna keep that coffee girl coming here every day?”
“The caffeine helps me get through the afternoon,” Hutch says as he cleans up his station.
Leaning against the entry to his stall, I give him a skeptical look even though he’s not looking my way. “Right, and it’s so hard to bring a thermos from home, or shit—use the coffeemaker in the back room.”
“Forgot about the coffeemaker,” he mumbles. “Anyway, our coffee isn’t as good as the stuff from Island Java, and you don’t seem to have a problem stuffing their cookies into your face.”
Mace wanders up then, and joins me in watching Hutch work. “Face facts,” he says. “You’re ordering coffee to see that little honey, and Zipper, I see the way you look at her, too.”
“And you’renotlooking at her?” I accuse.
“Didn’t say I wasn’t. She’s a pretty girl.”
“She’s beautiful,” Hutch says. “And those big fucking eyes of hers…”
I thought he’d been working on a client, but Christian suddenly appears and joins in. “Bet she’d be eager in bed. And ready to take commands.”
Hutch straightens, wiping his hands on a cloth. “So we’re all thinking about her like that, huh? It’s been a while since we were looking at the same woman.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t fucking bring that up.”