INKED 8: A Tattoo Shop Reverse Harem

I watch a murder mystery on TV because anything with love it in would be too much for me. Losing myself in a fictional drama is the only thing that takes my mind off my aching heart.

Dawn calls me, but I don’t pick up. When I message her to tell her I have a migraine, she sends me a hug emoji and asks if I’ll call her tomorrow. Maybe by then, I’ll have stuffed down all this emotion and sadness, packing it tight into the box containing all my other heart-shattering moments. Maybe I’ll be able to tell my friend brightly that the game was awesome, and You Only Live Once is the best mantra to live by. I can convince her that I’m forever changed for the better.

By morning, my skin has recovered its usual glow, and my eyes have lost their swollenness. I dress all in a bright red sweater and tight black pants, needing to feel powerful and in control when I face whatever is going on at work.

My heart is skittering as I arrive outside Ink Factor. I can hear music from inside, which is a good sign. It feels odd to open the door and step inside as though I’m trespassing. This is my place of work, but I’m not comfortable here anymore.

When I rest my purse under the reception desk, I notice that the white plastic bowl that held eight dates with eight men has gone. It was empty anyway, but its removal really underlines the end of a chapter.

“Hey, Kyla,” Lex says as he passes. “Things have been crazy around here.”

“Yeah,” I say, even though I’m not a party to what’s been going on. No one has told me why everyone left, and I had to cancel a whole day of appointments. No one told me why the shop was turned over so badly or why Carl was throwing things at the wall.

I may work here, but I’m not in the inner circle.

Customers begin to arrive, and everyone keeps their head down, trying to clear the backlog of people wanting permanent marks made to their skin.

It’s almost lunchtime when the bell over the door sounds, and I look up, finding a man entering the shop who looks familiar.

The moment he sees me, his eyes blink with recognition, and a smile eases over his handsome face. I know that smile, even though I saw it from across a crowded nightclub. It’s etched into my memory because of all the frantic and overwhelming sensations I was feeling while I was watching this man watching me.

How the hell did he find me?

“Now, this is a happy coincidence,” he says. “What are the chances that I’d book in for a tattoo and stumble across the woman of my dreams?”

To the background of a thudding heart, I contemplate that this isn’t just happening by chance. Is there a way he could have tracked me down? Not really. I didn’t leave my name or number anywhere at the club. Kase and I were just two random strangers in a nightclub.

Or were we?

Kase has been there before. Maybe he spoke to someone before about what he does. Maybe he mentioned Ink Factor by name. With a little light investigation, maybe that’s enough for this man to find me. But who am I kidding? I’m no one special that such a gorgeous man would go to so much trouble to try and find me.

“You have a booking?” I stutter.

“Yeah. It’s under the name Daimon Swan.”

I scan over the screen in front of me, finding that he’s booked in as Dex’s next customer.

“You’ll be with Dex. He’s just finishing up. You can take a seat over there.” I point to the customer lounge area. “Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Water?”

“A coffee would be great.”

The coffee machine is in the back, and as I leave the reception, Kase is returning from the men’s room. His eyes scan reception, probably to see if his next customer has arrived. When his gaze lands on the man from the club, his whole body freezes. I don’t stop for long enough for him to say anything about it. It’ll be embarrassing to recall the reason we both know the customer, and in my current state of mind, I just don’t want to go there.

When I return with the coffee, Kase is nowhere to be seen.

“Here.”

“Thanks. Hey, I was wondering if you’d consider coming out for a drink with me. It seems we like to hang out in the same kind of places, and I’d love a chance to get to know you.” He rests his arm along the back of the purple couch, oozing confidence. I open my mouth to reply as Carl appears from the back. His eyes flick between us, his face like a thunderous mask. Who knows what he’s pissed about? It could be about yesterday’s drama or maybe that he’s caught me flirting with someone else. If it’s the latter, he has no right to say a thing.