The Marked Men Series Books 1–6: Rule, Jet, Rome, Nash, Rowdy, Asa. Jay Crownover
Читать онлайн книгу.
up on top.
Each of the workstations was divided by a waist-high wall and a mounted flat-screen TV. Everything was bright and shiny clean, and there was a myriad of different artwork and all kinds of interesting old-school tattoo designs for people to choose from plastering the available wall space. It was visually stimulating and there was old Bad Religion playing quietly on the house sound system. It was all very Rule, as if he had found a place to work that completely and totally embodied who he was as a person, and that was just really special to see. He led me to a back room that had a table and couch as well as a mini fridge and a bunch of different stations that had drafting tables and special lights for artists to use. Sitting at the table was a middle-aged man who could have easily been one of my father’s golf buddies, except for the fact that he had his shirt off and the entire center of his chest was covered not in gray hair but a stark black outline of a bald eagle and an American flag.
Rule dumped the bags on the table and began digging through them. “Shaw, this is Mark Bradley, Mark this is Shaw. I hope you don’t mind if she sticks around for a bit since she was nice enough to bring us dinner.”
He started dishing stuff out onto plates that he pulled out of nowhere. “Sure thing. I didn’t know you went out and got yourself a girl, Rule. A pretty one at that.”
Rule winked at me over the guy’s head and handed me a loaded plate that I probably wouldn’t even put a small dent in. “She sure is that.”
We ate in companionable silence for a few minutes but I kept checking out the bold outline on Mark’s chest. It was huge and seemed like such a massive commitment for someone in his fifties to be making.
“That piece is pretty impressive,” I said between bites.
He looked down at himself and then back up at Rule. “The kid has real talent. I looked all over town to find someone who would do what I wanted justice. Rule got it right away, and it didn’t hurt that his brother is enlisted, so he understood the importance behind it all.”
“He mentioned it was a memorial piece for your son.”
“Unfortunately. Roadside bomb a few years ago. He was my oldest and nothing else seemed an appropriate way to honor how proud I am to be his father.”
I felt tears well in my eyes. I was so used to parents being too thoughtless or lost in their own grief to really express their heartache in a healthy way. I reached out and squeezed the older man’s hand while blinking away the moisture gathered in my eyes.
“I think that is beautiful.”
“My kid was a sucker for a good old-school tattoo. I gave him crap every time he came home with something new. It would tickle him pink that this was the way I chose to keep his memory alive.”
“You’ll be finished with it today?” I asked Rule, who was eating while standing up and watching the interplay between me and his client intently.
“No. Something that big takes a few sessions. Today we’ll hammer in the rest of the solid black and the gray, get some of the highlights and all the shading done. His next sitting will only be an hour or so and I’ll get the color in it. It’s going to be classic when it’s all done.”
We finished eating and I offered to clean up the mess while Rule went out to set up for Mark. I had just finished cleaning up and was pulling out my computer and books to set up in the back room when Rule poked his head into the room and crooked his finger at me. “Come out here and post up in one of the empty stations.”
“I don’t want to be in the way.”
“Come on, Casper, you make the view better.”
I rolled my eyes at him and moved to set up across from him. I settled into the surprisingly comfy chair and propped my computer on my lap. The music switched to a song by The Gaslight Anthem and I hummed along.
“What are you studying?”
I glanced up at Mark, who was making an interesting face as Rule bent over him, the constant buzz of the tattoo machine surprisingly lulling and comforting.
“I want to be a doctor. I would eventually like to work in emergency medicine.”
“That’s a pretty big goal. Why emergency medicine?”
I pulled my hair up into a sloppy knot on the top of my head. “I’ve always wanted to be a doctor. My dad is a heart surgeon, but I lost a really close friend a few years ago in a horrific car accident, and I guess I felt like maybe if he had had better care when he got to ER he would have made it. I want to make a difference when it matters most.”
Rule looked up and we stared at each other for a long moment before he put his head down and went back to what he was doing. Mark grunted. “That’s a pretty special girl you got there, kid. You better be doing right by her.”
He muttered something I didn’t hear and I turned my attention to the project I still had a bunch of work left to do on. I typed away and the machine buzzed for a solid two hours. We didn’t really talk much—me because I was working and subtly watching Rule; Mark, because as time went on it was clear he was hurting; and Rule, because when he worked he was focused solely on what he was doing and it was extraordinary to watch. He was actually putting a little bit of himself into what he was leaving on Mark and he wouldn’t settle for less than a perfect end product. I think watching him work, watching him diligently change this man’s body forever, made me fall just a little bit harder for him.
Mark had to take a couple breaks, and each time he got up, Rule made his way over to me. The first time he dropped a kiss on the top of my head. The second time he pulled me into a full-body make-out session that had me readjusting my shirt when Mark came back inside from smoking a cigarette. All in all it was a pretty nice way to spend an evening and I got plenty of work done. Four hours later Rule was wiping smears of black ink off Mark’s angry red skin, and the image he had on his chest was a beautifully etched tattoo that was an honorable tribute to his fallen son. I told him again how beautiful I thought it was and that I would love to see it when it was all done, and he gave me a hug like a real dad would and told me to take care of myself. He also paid Rule, which made me balk. I had no idea how much getting tattooed cost and then he left him a gigantic tip on top of it.
Rule told me to pack up and then went about cleaning up his station and shutting the shop down for the night. It took us another hour to finally leave, and by then I was yawning and getting sleepy. My car was close enough that I decided to just leave it and not try for a spot closer to their apartment, and Rule promised to get up early in the morning and take me to it if I wanted. The walk was fast because it was cold; it helped that he pulled me close the entire way.
When we got back to his place, we said hi to Nash. I thought maybe Rule wanted to sit for a second and chat but he dropped my stuff on the coffee table, grabbed a couple beers out of the fridge, and hauled me into his room.
We didn’t talk, didn’t seem to need to. By now I was getting the hang of how the whole sex thing, or rather the whole sex-with-Rule thing, worked. He was very tactile, very hands-on, and I benefited from all of it. After rolling around not once but twice I was quite happily sprawled across his naked chest randomly tracing the scales of the snake on the arm next to my face. He was propped up on a pillow, drinking one of the beers and messing around on his phone while drawing some kind of pattern on my back with his finger. I was sated and almost asleep when his voice rattled through my head.
“Want to come to another show with me on Saturday? I tattoo one of the guys in Artifice and I got backstage passes.”
I let my eyes snap open and went stiff, which he was bound to feel since I was using him as a body pillow. I pushed my hair out of my face and looked up at him. His eyes were droopy and sleepy as well, but I saw that he really wanted to know what my answer was. I gulped a little and bit down on my lip like I did when I was nervous.
“I have to go to my mother’s for the weekend. I’m leaving on Saturday and won’t be back until sometime Sunday afternoon.”
Now he was the one who went stiff