Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 114368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
If I weren’t already on my career path and had a steady hand and a lick of artistic skills, I would’ve gladly spent my life working at Dad’s parlor.
I parked the car around the corner from the shop and hopped out into the freezing weather. I rushed to the front door as my cheeks were hit with the chilled wind.
“Surprise!” the crew shouted, sending me into a complete frenzy of shock. The parlor had been decked out in birthday decorations. “Happy birthday, Starlet!” they sang.
One of the coolest things in the world was seeing a bunch of beefy, tatted biker men holding pink and purple balloons to celebrate me. The whole crew consisted of Dad’s best friends, and I’d grown up surrounded by them my entire life. Nelson was the first to hurry over and wrap me in a tight bear hug.
“Happy birthday, nugget,” he said, rubbing his fist over my curly hair.
Nelson was the definition of a rock star. He looked like a linebacker, too—effortlessly cool and effortlessly gigantic. Nelson was six-foot-four and at least two hundred and ninety pounds. He wasn’t chubby, though. He was all muscle. He lifted me off the floor as if it were the easiest thing to do. His wife, Joy, was the next to come my way. Joy was a beautiful Black woman who was inked from head to toe. She had vibrant gray hair and shaved the sides of her head. She always wore high heels at least five inches tall and was still shorter than her husband.
I pretty much considered them my aunt and uncle. They were what Dad called his ride or dies. They surrounded us with so much love during some pretty dark days of our lives, and I honestly didn’t think we would’ve made it through the tough days if they hadn’t showered us with their light.
Harper was next to embrace me. He was an older guy in his sixties and one of the best tattoo artists in the world. People flew in from around the world to have Harper ink them. He was a cool, calm man in touch with energy and the universe. Sometimes, if he sensed a person was nervous before a tattooing session, he’d pull out his deck of tarot cards and do a reading on them, then follow it up with a quick reiki session. We called him our hippie guru.
“Bright greetings, our beloved.” Harper smiled, pulling me into a hug. Harper gave the best hugs. He hugged someone as if he’d been waiting his whole life to embrace them. The kind of hug that made a person melt into his arms.
Next, Cole—the party animal. He was in his late thirties yet still celebrated as if he were twenty-one. Cole decorated his body with piercings, the newest being his dolphin bites right below his bottom lip. He was a slim man with shaggy blond hair and green eyes that sparkled. I’d never seen him have a bad day. Cole lived for the thrill of life. It shouldn’t have been a shock when he walked out with a tray of shots lined up for everyone.
“Twenty-fucking-one!” Cole shouted while blowing on a party favor noisemaker hanging out of his mouth. “Happy birthday, buckaroo,” he said as he placed the tray down and kissed my forehead.
Last, there was Dad—the best papa in the whole world.
“Happy birthday, princess,” he said as he hugged me. “I can’t believe you’re all grown up.” He kissed my forehead repeatedly.
My father and I looked very much alike, though he had a few more tattoos on his skin than my naked self. He’d been trying to ink me for years, but I still wasn’t ready for what I wanted him to create against my skin. One day, though. One day.
Dad was a handsome man with deep dimples that always showcased when he laughed, which he did a lot. I had those same dimples. I had his brown eyes and his full smile, too. He stood at six-foot-two with a shiny bald head that everyone liked to rub for good luck.
“I thought the boyfriend was coming with you?” Dad asked.
I wrinkled my nose. “Let’s just say that didn’t work out, and I hope I never see him again.”
Dad narrowed his eyes, debating whether to ask for more details, but then shrugged. “Good. He had shitty tattoos.”
I smiled. “The worst of the worst.”
“Shots!” Cole called out, shoving one into my hand.
I laughed. “Okay, but we can’t get too wild. I have a big day on Monday, and I can’t get too crazy,” I warned.
Cole waved me off. “It’s your twenty-first birthday. You’re supposed to let loose.”
If only he knew how loose I’d been the night prior. Just thinking about it made my cheeks heat.
“Don’t worry, buttercup,” Dad said. “I’ll take care of you.”
They all looked so excited that I couldn’t let them down.