Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 122206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
With confidence I did not feel, I began to read out loud.
“I, Ina O’Shea, pledge my fingers to the Knit Happens cause. I will give my all for the patterns. I will stand by the patterns, and the patterns alone I shall protect. May the knittin’ and crochetin’ gods strike me down if I wrong this group or shame its name. This is my pledge, my word, my honour.”
“Hear, hear!”
I jumped as the words echoed around the room. I lowered my now trembling hands.
“What’s the next trial?”
“Depends on whether ye truly want to be a member or not.”
At this point, I was in too deep. I had to become a member.
“Course I do.”
Lilly stroked her invisible goatee.
“Can we hurry this along?” one of the cloaks barked. “Me arthritis is actin’ up.”
“Yeah,” another cloak said. “Is she gonna get inked or not?”
I jerked my attention to the figure. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said,” the woman raised her voice. “Are ye not gonna get inked? Turn yours aids up, pet.”
The volume on my hearing aids was perfectly fine, it was what the woman said that I couldn’t understand.
“Inked,” I repeated. “As in tattooed?”
The cloaks nodded, so I turned to Lilly.
“D’you have a tattoo?”
She wordlessly showed me the inside of her right index finger, revealing the word Knitter in black ink.
“We all have it.”
Oh. Bollocks.
I felt my eyes bulge. “I’ve never planned on gettin’ any tattoos.”
Getting inked in order to join the Knit Happens group never even entered my realm of thought.
“It’s not a requirement.” Lilly shrugged. “It’s simply a token of our allegiance to the club.”
I had never had to give my allegiance to anything other than my father before. Not even Dante required it. He was happy with my heart. I would have been lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued by Lilly’s words. Then I paused mid-thought because she said these were trials. Trials had to be completed, so her saying getting inked wasn’t a requirement was rubbish. It was a requirement and seeing if I went through with it was the fecking trial.
“Does it hurt?”
“No,” Lilly answered.
A tattoo. To become a trusted member of a knitting and crochet club, I had to get a tattoo … that was as good a reason as any to get inked as far as I was concerned. People got tattooed for far less.
“I’ll do it.”
Snaps filled the room.
“Follow me.”
Lilly turned and walked out of the room swiftly. The way her cloak caught the air reminded me of Severus Snape in Harry Potter when he barrelled down the hallways of Hogwarts looking like a Vogue runway model. I hurried along after her, noting the other cloaked members of the club didn’t follow. They all watched me leave, though. Their heads turned as they tracked me out of the room. I practically had to run to keep up with Lilly, who was surprisingly fast moving for someone so short. I was still wearing my suit and heels. We were late closing up the garage, so I came straight from work. I regretted not wearing flats as my feet screamed from wearing them all day.
“In here.” Lilly paused by a room, opening the door. “Come on.”
I entered the room and was surprised when I found a fully decked-out tattoo parlour. It had its own exit so people could enter it from outside without having to go through the rest of the building.
“What is this place?”
“Side job,” Lilly said.
“Wait.” I turned. “You’re a tattoo artist? A licensed tattoo artist?
“Amongst other things.”
Who the fuck was this woman?
“Does Dante know about this?”
“No.” She snorted. “Date is me toy boy. He isn’t privy to me secrets.”
I had the sudden urge to laugh, but I didn’t.
“You’re gonna stick a needle in me finger?”
She grinned menacingly. “Yup.”
I could have puked.
“Sit down while I do the stencil. This’ll be done in minutes. It’s quick work.”
I followed her instructions and sat down. I made myself as comfortable as possible while I waited. When Lilly came to my side, sat on a little stool, and took my left hand, she paused and looked up at me. “Is your left hand okay?”
Wordlessly, I nodded.
She made quick work of disinfecting my entire hand, then dried my finger thoroughly before she positioned her stencil on the inside of my index finger, pressed on it, and pulled the paper away. I examined the word on my finger and found that I liked it. It was small, and I doubted anyone would notice it unless I showed it to them. I closed my eyes when Lilly began. She didn’t talk to me at all, which actually helped with my nerves.
She said it wouldn’t hurt, though, and it turned out that she was a fucking liar. I had to bite my lip to keep from crying, and the old wagon knew it.