Trick (The Kelly Brothers #1) - Tory Baker

1

Trick

I’m bent over a client, working on a butterfly on this girl’s hip. Her mom is beside her. The girl in my chair is squeezing it tightly. I’m trying not to roll my eyes at the cliché that is surrounding me right now. Apparently, the tattoo is her eighteenth birthday present. Sure, it’s my job to ask them if they’re okay with having it for the rest of their life. Even if I don’t agree, if I think it has no meaning and a dozen girls last week asked for the same thing, just on different parts on their bodies.

“Trick,” Raven, a resident tattooist, says to get my attention. I stop what I’m doing, not wanting to fuck this up, even if I’m craving for something to challenge me more than ever.

“What’s up?” I ask her. She came to work here after I opened Sins and Ink. In fact, she was one of the first artists I hired, besides Bennet.

My ma, she about had a heart attack. Then gave me a hug after she regrouped and told me to always do my best and that she didn’t raise any fools. Something my brothers and I can attest to. Dad just smiled because he knew before Ma did. He wasn’t saying a damn thing though. Her Irish temper would come out, and if it didn’t need to, we kept shit quiet.

“Do you have time for another client tonight? She’s wanting something big, rib cage to lower hip.”

“Yeah, I’m free after this one. I should be done in about ten minutes.” I nod to the client in my chair asking if she’s okay.

“I’ll let her know.” She walks away. The butterfly tattoo girl smiles, and I get back to working on her.

I’m already hoping this next piece is more than a bunch of butterflies. Shit. I really should have pushed this one off to one our newer artists. This is what I get for canceling my last-minute trip to Lake Louis. It fucking sucked, but one of my other tattoo artists and best friends needed to be with his family. So, I cancelled my shit when it started to get bad—his dad is in his final stages of Alzheimer’s. Fuck, is that shit horrible to watch happen. I watched Bennet like a hawk the entire time shit was going sideways for his dad. He kept his head above water somehow. I’ve known Bennet my whole life. I was the first one he called to admit he was an alcoholic. For the past five years, though, he’s been sober. If he’s struggling, he calls me, even if it’s the middle of the night. I’d drag my ass outta bed, go pick his ass up, and meet with his sponsor, or we hit up a meeting. Some people have addicting personalities, and that’s him to a motherfucking tee. My parents watched us boys like hawks, especially since they own a bar.

I couldn’t say the same for Bennet’s parents though. His mom dipped out when he was young, causing his dad to work hard at the factory, which left Bennet running the streets when he wasn’t with my family. It sucked, but when you’re a teenager, things happen that are out of your control.

So, when the assisted living facility called, I knew it was that time and I’d have to step in and take his overflow. We all worked to reschedule his clients, and the ones we couldn’t were doled out to everyone else in the shop.

Once I’m finished with the girl’s tattoo, I set my gun down, wipe her hip clean, and let her stand up to see it in the mirror. She and her mom are nothing but smiles. Even if it wasn’t my idea of creativeness, I’m still happy they like it.

“Thank you so much, Trick. I love it,” the girl gushes.

“You’re welcome,” I tell her while getting her finished up. “Here are the aftercare instructions.”

I walk her out to the front, so she can pay her bill and I can figure out what the next client wants tattooed. Once she’s cashed out and walks out the door, I find Raven. “Who’s the next one?” I watch as she points to the group of girls that is huddled on the couch. Two of the three are way past drunk off their asses. It’s evident by the way they’re hugging each other, laughing, and their eyes are fucked in the worst ways. The third girl, though, she’s sitting near them, her soft chocolate hair