Full Contact (Redemption #3)(24)
“No, of course not.” I look up and catch a glint in Torment’s eye and the slightest quirk of his lips. I don’t know how he knows, but he knows.
“Every fighter who steps into the cage feels fear,” Torment says. “The good ones use that fear. They control it, channel it, master it. They are the fighters who rise to the top. The ones who let fear control them never succeed. You know them right away because they have their backs to the cage, so worried about protecting themselves, they aren’t even trying to win. What kind of fighter are you?”
“I’m not a fighter.”
“We are all fighters. But sometimes we have to look hard at ourselves to find where our fighter is hiding.”
I know exactly where my fighter is hiding—in the past. And maybe it’s time to find her. Yes, it will hurt when I see him. And I’ll wish that night with Luke never happened or that it didn’t affect me the way it did. But I’ll have my Redemption and Rabid Ink friends around me, and an awesome studio to work in, and money to help out Mom and Dad.
“So it’s settled then.” Torment shakes my hand before I speak. “Good to have you on board. I’ll expect you to start tomorrow.” And whoosh, he is gone. Discussion over.
“Um…I didn’t say yes.” I glare at the closing door. “Jess, did you hear me say yes? Or did you hear Tag say yes? Did anyone say yes?”
Lips pressed together, I yank open the door and shout, “YES.”
“That’s Torment,” Tag says, coming up behind me. “Looks like you got a new studio. To be honest, although I don’t like you coming to Ghost Town, you’ll be safer here than you were in the Lower Haight ’cause I’ll make sure everyone knows to keep an eye out for you. Just make sure you stay away from Ray.”
“No problem.” And I mean it.
Chapter 8
It was what it was, and that’s all that it was
“Ohmigod. Ohmigod. I think I’m in heaven.” First thing Monday morning, Rose plasters herself against the glass door to our new studio and stares out at the man candy on display. Torment has gathered the key members of his team in the hallway for a pep talk, and Rose is now physically unable to peel herself off the door.
“It’s Redemption, not heaven,” I say.
“It’s heaven with you wearing that little black skirt and those f*ck-me boots.” Christos gives me a wink as he takes in my attire. “We’ll have fighters lined up into the parking lot once they get a look at you.”
I heave a sigh, but secretly I’m pleased. I love these boots. Soft, supple black leather, all straps and laces, with a stiletto heel. They set me back a month in savings last year, but every time I wear them, I feel like nothing can hold me back. And I needed a little confidence boost today.
“I’ve spent my weekends trawling bars and clubs looking for a replacement for my ex,” Rose says, still staring out the door. “And now I discover all the hot guys have been hiding out here.”
“Your ex was scum.” Christos unpacks the new supplies Torment miraculously procured overnight: tattoo kits, paint, ink, tattoo machines, sketch pads, even an autoclave for the staff room. “Shouldn’t be hard to replace him.”
An affronted Rose sniffs. “He was the love of my life.”
“He was the love of your bed.”
Duncan and I share a glance. Christos and Rose have been fighting their attraction for years. Although he’s never said anything to her, Christos confided in me that he was relieved when Rose’s ex broke it off. He’d seen the bruises on her face beneath the makeup and he was finding it hard not to get involved.
“Do we have a name?” Duncan eases himself into his high-end titanium hydraulic client chair, the likes of which I have never seen before. With two headrests and two armrests, it allows clients to sit, straddle, or lay in multiple positions in padded leather comfort.
“Torment’s Tattoos,” Rose says. “To honor our benefactor.”
Christos sticks his finger down his throat and pretends to heave.
“How about we stick with our old name?” I hand Christos a knife to cut open the next box, then settle into my new, cushy artist’s chair. “I mean, this is temporary digs until Slim gets back on his feet and gets the studio fixed up.”
Rose sighs. “How will we go back after this? I’m already ruined for tat studios for life.”
“Because we’re a team and we’re loyal.” I spin around in my chair, marveling at the lumbar support and padding where padding is needed. Maybe we can convince Slim to upgrade the furniture when he’s done the renos.
The door opens—no tinkly bells in Torment’s studio—and we go into full client alert.
“Hey, Sia.” Rampage waves as he walks in. “Hope you’re prepared to be busy. Torment spread the word that you’re here now, and everyone’s planning to come by to check you guys out. You’re part of Redemption, and we look after our own.”
Rampage does not lie. We have the busiest day we’ve ever had in the history of Rabid Ink. Fighters line up outside to book appointments weeks in advance after Rose tells them we’ve already filled our walkins for the day. I ink the Redemption logo at least six times on various body parts, including one ass, and accept four commissions for custom designs.