Hold (Gentry Boys, #5)(12)
I snorted. “Awesome. Brick can’t take care of it?”
“Brick is busy. Brick is inking an eye on the back of a bald head.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “Yeah. This hell-for-leather dude who rolled in an hour ago with half the desert stuck to his clothes and a homicidal look on his face. Apparently he’s a friend of Deck’s.”
I smiled at the mention of my wild cousin. Deck Gentry looked like one of the roughest men on the evolutionary scale but he’s got just about the best heart around. Right after my girls were born, Deck rented a vacant storefront down the road from the university, announced he was opening a tattoo shop and promptly insisted on making me part owner. Deck’s been in the habit of doing me colossal favors all my life. He’s as much a brother as Creed and Chase in every way that counts.
“If he’s Deck’s friend he’s all right.”
Aspen cocked her head. “Have you heard from him?”
“Deck? He called yesterday. I told him I didn’t want to hear from him again for a while.”
Deck had worried he was leaving too much on my plate before he embarked on a two month round-the-world trip with his girlfriend, Jenny. She’d always wanted to travel and Deck surprised her the night of her graduation a few weeks ago with news of the trip. They left for India the following morning. Before he left I assured him I could handle things just fine and I meant to do just that. Deck deserved to have the time of his life with the girl he loved.
I grabbed a pen and sketchpad. “Guess I better get to sketching some ass skulls. Tell the client I’ll be out in fifteen.”
“Oh!” Aspen clapped her hands together. The absurd giant pink bow that sat atop her blue hair wobbled. “I almost forgot. She wants wings too.”
“Pardon?”
“Coming out of the sides of the ass skulls. She wants them to resemble black feathery ears.”
I threw the pen. “You better not be making this up.”
“Hell no, Cord. My creative talents are reserved for my man. Hey, you want Brick to pick you up something from Pita Palace? He’s running down there as soon as he’s done with Baldy.”
“Nah, I’m closing up at six and having dinner with the boys.”
“Oh dear,” sighed Aspen as she slumped against the office door. “You can’t just inflict all that Gentry testosterone on the town without warning. If I wasn’t already so passionately attached I might swoon.”
“Swoon away, kid.”
“Only if you’ll catch me. I feel so lightheaded.”
I chuckled. Aspen liked to give me a hard time but she was completely in love with Brick. If you thought about them separately they were an odd pair; the crew cut former military man and the colorful wild child. But when you saw them together it somehow made complete sense.
“I think you’ll recover,” I told her wryly and started my sketch.
It was Deck’s idea to name the shop Scratch and it’s been in business going on three years now. In that time we’ve built up a brisk customer base, mostly through word of mouth. Deck never considered himself much of an artist so these days he only sat down to ink when we were in a tight spot. Besides me, the hulking ex-Marine Brick was the other full time artist on staff. But lately we’d been busy enough to toss around the idea of hiring someone else. Aspen was around part time handling the front desk, the phones and other administrative crap.
It didn’t take me long to get a pretty decent sketch worked up. I could hear Aspen’s chirpy voice in the front as she entertained the client.
When I was satisfied that I had a solid mockup of the ass-kissing feathery skulls I headed out there, sketch in hand.
The woman was too skinny, blonde, wearing a gray tank top that did nothing to mask the tracks on her arms. Junkies aged too quickly so it was difficult to estimate her age but I would have guessed her to be in her mid thirties. Her eyes were sharp though, meaning she was off the habit, at least for a while. I could tell the difference. My own mother was cut from the exact same cloth.
“You must be Cord,” she said pleasantly and her smile gave me a sudden chill. The ruined teeth, the blonde hair, the way her clothes hung on her tired flesh, it all reminded me too much of Maggie Gentry.
None of that was apparent though in the way I smoothly shook her hand and led her down the short hall. Along the way I passed a tiny room where Brick was inking the biker. It was kind of a comical sight at first glance; two bulky, muscled men, one lying face down on a thin cot and the other looming closely over his bare head while he worked on coloring the details of a giant blue eye.
I led the woman into the adjacent room and she immediately settled into the black hydraulic chair.
“Just so you know,” she said shyly, “I can pay you. I have cash.”
“Good,” I nodded and pressed a button to get the chair into a reclining pose.
She smiled at me and again a shudder rolled through my soul. A memory, a sense of foreboding. Whatever it was I willed it away. I didn’t want to think of my mother right now. My hometown of Emblem was only an hour’s drive from here but I hadn’t seen my own mother in years. She’s never met my wife or laid eyes on her grandchildren. It’s only because Deck keeps tabs on things down in Emblem that I know she’s still alive.
I know he’s still alive too. My father. Benton. Of course he is. Evil has a way of remaining obnoxiously healthy.