Fast Burn (Burned Duet 1)

“Yep.”

“When?” I asked, automatically thinking of my jam-packed schedule.

“Saturday morning and Sunday afternoon? Is that doable?”

I stared up at the ceiling and mentally went through my times. It would mean I wouldn’t get much sleep on Friday night after work, but I could always have a nap in the afternoon, and Sunday afternoon I normally did my homework, but I could make it fit. I was determined to make it fit.

“I can do that.” I wanted to jump up and fist-bump the air, but I settled for a smile instead. My emotions needed to stay locked away in my daily life, because when you were too exposed, people took advantage, and I wouldn’t be taken advantage of, not again.

“You can show your excitement, you know,” Aleste said, her lips spreading into a grin. “You don’t need to keep it just for when you’re dancing.”

“I know,” I rushed out. “I…thank you.” I wrapped my arms around her. “Thank you.”

She patted my back gently and whispered, “Sometimes you just need one break to set your path straight.” She pulled away, stared at me for a beat, and then turned to leave the studio. I wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but the words lodged in my head, refusing to be let go.

I blinked and stared at myself in the mirror. The black leotard I was wearing was coming apart at the seams, and I knew I’d have to invest in a new one before my competition, and a new skirt. The organza material needed to flow with each of my moves to add a lyrical flow to the dance number. So with that in mind, and knowing I had an extra shift tonight, which would cover the cost of them, I pulled my hoodie over my head, pushed my feet into my tennis shoes, and grabbed my bag.

All I would have time for was a quick bite to eat at the local drive-through, and then I’d need to head right to work. My body was running on empty, but the high from what Aleste had asked me kept me going as I exited the studio and walked to my car.

I’d parked down the road because I hadn’t been able to find a spot right outside the studio, and it wasn’t until I was a couple of feet away from my car that I noticed the place I was in front of.

The windows were tinted, a decal on them, but above that was a sign “East Ink.” Was this a tattoo shop? How long had it been here? My eyes widened, and although I’d never really thought about it, the idea of having some ink on my body was appealing at the moment. Nothing too big, but definitely nothing small.

Somewhere I could hide while I was dancing.

I wasn’t sure how long I stood there staring at the shop with my keys in my hand, but the door swung open, and a woman walked out. She didn’t notice me at first as she leaned against the window and lit a cigarette, but as she blew the smoke out, her head turned.

“Hey,” she greeted, smiling and causing the two piercings in her cheeks to sink farther into her skin. Her arms were covered in an array of tattoos, and her orange and pink hair added to her edgy look. But her face was smooth with barely any makeup on, and I could tell she was pretty. Pretty in the girl-next-door kind of way. I was intrigued.

I wanted to ask her about her ink and find out if her name matched her look and vibe, but all I managed to get out was a squeaky, “Hi.” I winced at how high-pitched my voice sounded, but it didn’t seem to faze her as she looked me up and down. Her brows moved higher on her forehead as she looked at my dance skirt, bare legs, and then beat-up tennis shoes.

“You dance?” she asked, straight to the point.

“Yeah.” I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and hitched my thumb behind me, signaling the studio. “In Aleste’s studio.”

She took another drag of her cigarette, nodding slowly. “Aleste seems cool, in that pretty, do-gooder kind of way.” I knew what she meant because it was exactly who Aleste was. She had good parents who were still married, and she’d never known a life of no support. But it didn’t mean I envied her for it. We were all dealt a hand, and it was up to us how we played it.

“She is.” I paused. “Cool and a do-gooder.” I shrugged, not stopping myself as I continued, “She tries to relate to the kids around here, but you don’t know what it’s like until you’ve gone through it, you know?” I was saying too much, but for some reason, I found myself wanting to talk to this stranger.

“I get that,” she said, staring at me as if she knew so much more. Her dark eyes didn’t look away from my face as she continued to smoke, and although I knew I was wasting precious time I had to eat before starting work, I found myself glued to the spot.

“I think I like you.” She let the butt of her cigarette go and stomped on it with her platform boots. “Come in and see me next time you’re around.”

She left the words hanging in the air as she pushed back into the shop, leaving me alone and on the sidewalk, wondering if I really would come and see her next time I was at my dance lesson. There was something about her that had me feeling at ease, and I’d never felt that before. Maybe it was because she seemed laid-back, or maybe it was all in my head and I was so tired I was imagining things that weren’t really there.

Huffing out a breath, I opened up my car and took one last look at the sign above the shop, knowing at some stage, I’d go in there, whether it was to talk to the woman or get ink permanently put into my skin.

The idea had a smile forming on my face.

* * *

ASHER

It wasn’t often I tattooed anywhere other than my shop, but when Al had called and asked if I could come and do it in the club before it opened, I hadn’t hesitated. The shop was getting busier and busier, and with three tattoo machines going, I knew it wasn’t the best place for Al to be right then.

I had plans to create a private room out of one of the offices in the back and even considered converting the upstairs apartment into private rooms and expanding into other areas too. But for now, they were just that—ideas. I needed to get the cash to front it because being in debt didn’t appeal to me one bit. I’d saved since before I could remember, and it was a way of life now, which was why, when I’d bought my house twelve months after I left the Marines, I had a large down payment saved up.

“Fuck, that bit hurts,” Al groaned, and I felt him tense under my hand. I’d been tattooing for three hours straight on his back piece: a compilation of the club emblem and an extra few sketches added in to signal the tour he’d just come off. He’d been home a couple of weeks now, and although to everyone else he was putting a front on, I knew better. I could see the pain and bad memories shining in his eyes.