Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 123672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
I start working on a design with angry, harsh lines and quickly get lost in it, hating the darkness that stares back at me. A hooded skull with hollowed-out eyes resembling the grim reaper, its teeth almost fang-like as it reaches out toward me, looking as though it’s trying to pull me under, and as I finish the initial outline of the design, I catch my breath.
It’s haunting, terrifying even, like something out of a nightmare. The design is elegant and yet angry as though you’ll never truly know its real nature, just like Crew. There’s a viciousness about it, and yet it's still so charming.
A hand comes down on my shoulder, and I jump, my eyes going wide. I was so focused on my sketch that I didn’t hear anyone behind me. “How are you doing, Ky?” Big Jim asks, glancing over my shoulder at my design, his eyes widening in surprise, though I can’t quite work out why. I usually spend hours a week making designs that are just as haunting as this. “Your first client’s here.”
“What?” I mutter, whipping around to see Aaron, one of my regulars, waiting by the reception desk. “Shit. Sorry. I was so lost in my own world, I didn’t hear the bell.”
“All good. He only just got here,” Big Jim says as I hastily pack away my sketchbook and glance over my station before deciding to do a quick sanitize despite doing one just after I walked in. But hell, one can never be too clean, right?
Jim keeps an eye on me as I hurry around my station, his gaze narrowed.
“You’re staring,” I point out.
“I think you should use that piece to finish out your sleeve,” he tells me, leaning back against his table, crossing a foot over the other as casually as ever, as though completely unaware of how his words have sent me into a blind panic. Though they shouldn’t. This is just a normal conversation between us. He couldn’t possibly know how I had to dive into the darkest pits of my soul to capture the perfect essence of Crew Ledger in that design, and now he thinks I should wear it on my arm like some kind of badge of honor, representing the man who almost crushed my jaw.
Shit.
“I don’t know,” I mutter, turning away, fearing he might see the panic flashing in my gaze as Aaron makes his way back to my station.
“Just say the word and I’ll clear my schedule,” Big Jim says.
I flash Jim a tight smile. “I, uhhh . . . yeah. I’ll let you know,” I tell him before turning my attention on Aaron and putting an end to the discussion. “Long time no see,” I say to Aaron. “I hope you’re ready. We’re in for a long one today.”
With that, Aaron holds up a set of headphones as a cheesy smile rips across his face. “Oh, I’m ready. Music and all,” he tells me. “I don’t think I’ll survive if I have to listen to the shit Big Jim calls music for the next three hours.”
“Hey, I heard that,” Jim throws across the shop.
“You were meant to,” Aaron teases, and just like that, he whips his shirt off and drops down onto my chair. “Alright, let’s do this before I turn into a little bitch and chicken out.”
Precisely three hours later, I stand with Aaron as he gazes into the mirror, a dorky smile stretching across his face as he takes in the new ink that takes up a large portion of his back. “Holy fuck,” Aaron grunts. “Have I ever told you how fucking amazing you are?”
I laugh, one of my first real laughs in over a week. “You might have mentioned it once or twice.”
“I second that,” a voice sounds from behind me, making me jump.
I whip around, finding Viper standing barely a few feet away, and I mentally scold myself for not paying attention to the bell chiming over the door again. Maybe this is why someone is so easily getting away with screwing with my window every night. My mind is blocking everything out. Perhaps this is some kind of natural coping mechanism for my brain, trying to protect itself, but right now, all it’s doing is fucking with me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask as Viper steps into me, his hand falling to my waist as he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to my cheek.
“Just came to check on you,” he says, his gaze subtly shifting toward Crew’s empty station. “You doing alright?”
“I’d be doing better if people quit asking me that,” I quip, not wanting to discuss my feelings with Viper. Hell, having to come clean to Big Jim this morning was bad enough.
“Message received loud and clear,” Viper says.
“Hey, listen,” I say, moving with Aaron back toward my chair to start his aftercare as Viper makes himself at home in my station. He leans against the table, almost mimicking the stance Big Jim was in earlier, only Viper has to go one extra step and cross his big arms over his chest in case passersby didn’t already think he was intimidating enough. “I, ummm . . . I think I owe you an apology.”