Rule (Marked Men #1)(4)

“Not really, we broke up but I don’t think Gabe really gets it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, a couple weeks ago actually. I’ve been thinking about doing it for a while. I’m just too busy with school and work to have a boyfriend.”

“If it was the right guy you wouldn’t feel that way. You would make the time because you wanted to be with him.”

She looked at me with both blond brows raised up to her hair line. “Are you, Mr. Manwhore of the Century seriously trying to give me relationship advice?”

I rolled my eyes which made my head scream in protest. “Just because there hasn’t been one girl I wanted to hang out with exclusively doesn’t mean I don’t know that difference between quality and quantity.”

“Could have fooled me, besides Gabe wanted more than I was willing to give and it’s going to be a pain because my Mom and Dad both loved him.”

“True that, from what I’ve heard he was pretty much custom made to make your folks happy. What do you mean he wanted to more than you were willing to give? Did he try and put a rock on your finger after only six months?”

She gave me a look and curled her lip up in a sneer. “Not even close, he just wanted things to be more serious than I wanted them to be.”

I laughed a little and rubbed between my eyebrows. My headache had turned into a dull throb but was starting to be manageable. I needed to ask her to swing by a Starbucks or something if I was going to get through this afternoon.

“Is that your prissy way of telling me that he was trying to get in your pants and you weren’t having it?”

She narrowed her eyes at me and pulled off on the exit that took us towards Brookside.

“I need you to stop by Starbucks before going to my parents’ house, and don’t think I didn’t notice you aren’t answering my question?”

“If we stop we’re going to be late and not every boy thinks with what’s in their pants.”

“The sky isn’t going to fall on us if we show up five minutes behind Margot’s schedule, and you have got to be kidding me, you strung that loser along for six months without giving it up, what a joke.”

That made me flat-out laugh at her. I laughed so hard that I had to hold my head in both hands as my whisky logged brain started to protest by screaming at me. I gasped a little and looked at her with watery eyes. “If you really believe that you aren’t nearly as smart as I always thought you were. Every single dude under the age of ninety is trying to get in your pants, Shaw, especially if he’s thinking that he’s your boy. I’m a guy, I know this shit.”

She bit her lip again conceding I probably had a valid point and pulled the car into the coffee shop. I practically bolted out, eager to stretch my legs and get a little distance from her typically haughty attitude. There was a line when I got inside and I cast a quick look around to see if I recognized anyone because Brookside was a pretty small town and usually when I stopped by on the weekends I inevitably ran into some I used to go to school with. I hadn’t bothered to ask Shaw if she wanted me to grab her anything because she was still being all uppity about having to stop in the first place. It was almost my turn to order when my phone started blasting a Social Distortion song in my pocket. I dug it out after ordering a big ass black coffee and took a spot on the counter next to a cute brunette that was trying her hardest not get caught checking me out.

“What up?”

I could hear the music in the shop blaring behind Nash when he asked, “How did this morning go?”

Nash knew my faults and bad habits better than anyone and the reason we had maintained our friendship as long as we had was because he never judged me based on those factors.

“Sucked. I’m hung-over, grumpy and about to sit through yet another forced family function, plus Shaw is rare form today.”

“How was the chick from last night?”

“No clue. I don’t even remember getting home from the bar but apparently I did a huge piece on her side so she was a little pissed I didn’t remember who she was, so ouch.”

He chuckled on the other end of the line. “She told you that like six times last night, she even tried to pull her top off to show you and I drove your dumb ass home last drunko. I tried to get you to leave at like midnight but you weren’t having any of it as usual.”

I snorted and reached for the coffee when the guy behind the counter called my name. I noticed the brunette’s eyes follow the hand that wrapped around the cardboard cup. It was the one that had the flared head of a king cobra on it. The rest of the snake wound its way up my forearm and around my elbow, the extended forked tongue made the “L” on my ring finger in the tattoo of my name that was inked across the four knuckles of the same hand. Her mouth made a little O of surprise so I flashed her a wink and walked back to the BMW.

“Sorry dude. How did your appointment go?”

Nash’s Uncle Phil had opened the shop years ago on Capitol Hill when it mainly catered to gangbangers and bikers, now with the influx of young urbanites and hipsters’ populating the area ‘The Marked’ was one of the busiest tattoo parlors in town. Nash and I met in fifth grade in art class and had been inseparable since, in fact it had been his plan since we were about twelve that we would eventually move to the city and work for Phil. We both had mad skills and the personality to make the shop bump with business so Phil had no qualms apprenticing us and putting us to work before we were both in our twenties. It was killer to have a friend in the same field; I had a plethora of ink on my skin that ranged from great to not so great that chronicled Nash getting better and better at his craft and he could state the exact same thing.