Emily's Protectors (The Protectors 2)

After waiting in line and getting their caramel lattes, they made their way from store to store with the guys following along like grouchy little puppies. Off to the left once they reached the middle part of the mall, a flashing neon sign caught her eye. Grabbing Kenny’s hand, she drug her towards it. Reading the sign— Lock & Key Tattoo Parlor— the name itself was a draw.

As she was about to go in, Kenny pulled on her arm. “Uhh, Em, what are we doing?”

Looking from the doors to Kenny and back again, she said sarcastically, “I’m getting a tattoo, and you’re preventing me from it. Clear things up a bit?” and then walked into the parlor, followed by Kenny, Eric, and the man they simply called, the driver. Mostly to rattle him, but also because they didn’t know his name.

The happy young man at the reception greeted them with a huge smile and warm welcome. “Ladies! How are you? Welcome, tell me how I can help you.”

Giggling at his warm welcome and affectionate handshake she said to him, “I would like a tattoo, but I don’t know what.”

“Believe it or not, we get that a lot. I’m Devin, and today, you get me as your own personal greeter/tattoo artist!” He bowed dramatically at the end of his statement, making her and Kenny go into a fit of giggles.

“Well, I’m Emily, your slightly confused and excited new client and this is my friend Kenny, and well, you can ignore tall and brooding and the driver.” She snickered at the amused expression on his face, and the not so amused growls coming from behind her.

“So no idea what you want, huh?” Devin asked her.

“Umm, well, maybe one. It’s silly, though, but after seeing the name of your shop, I knew it was fate.” She smiled sheepishly.

“Let’s go in the back room, shall we, and talk. Leave brooding and driver here to stew about your evilness.” Winking, he turned and went to a sterile white room with rave posters plastered on the walls. It had what looked like a dentist chair sitting center stage in the middle of the room, with shelves lining each wall stacked with binders, presumably full of images or pictures of his previous work.

The man himself was tall, yet slightly skinny, a goatee adorned his face in dark scruff, and he wore a black wife beater type shirt with dark wash jeans that were ripped nearly all over. “Have a seat,” he said patting the chair. Grabbing a sketch pad and pencil and sitting on a rolling stool, he scooted closer to her. “Alright little lady, tell me what ya want.”

Feeling Kenny’s eyes on her was unnerving. Picking at her nails she took a deep breath and mumbled. “DC with two keys and a lock underneath.”

“DC? Like the shoe company?” he asked confused.

Hearing Kenny laugh and say, “No. DC like Dane and Coop, her men.” had her swatting her, now non-friend, and glaring at her.

“Men, huh?” he asked, and at her nod said, “Well, as long as they’re good to you who the fuck cares!”

Letting out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, she smiled and said, “Boy, do they ever.”

Quickly sketching on his pad, she saw her first tattoo take shape in the most exquisite ways. It was as near to the picture in her head as she could get. DC was written in an English scrawl, with the lock underneath and the two keys crossing in front of it.

A gasp of shock left her as he showed it to her asking, “What colors and where?”

“On my lower back… and purple, blue, and black, please,” she whispered, knowing just how she was going to show Dane and Coop that evening.

“A tramp stamp, hey?” He teased getting up and going to the machine in the corner. “I’ll get it printed and then we’ll start. Lay down and lift your shirt and pull your pants down just a bit,” he explained.

Doing as he asked, she got comfortable with Kenny now sitting on another stool at the head of the table and holding her hands, whispering in her ear, “You’re nuts, Emily. I love it.”

After cleaning her skin and placing the outline on her back, she heard the buzzing of the gun. Unprepared for the first sting of pain she hissed out a breath, squeezing the life out of Kenny’s poor fingers as he went. An hour later, with very little talking, he was done. Helping her up from the chair, he led her to a two-way mirror on the back of the room’s door and what sh

e saw had tears leaking from the corners of hers eyes.

“Happy tears, I hope?” he whispered, looking at her.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered back, admiring the DC scrawled in a dark purple and the lock was black with a hint of silver running through it. The keys were blue and seemed to shine and sparkle. “It’s just perfect,” she whispered again.

After cleaning it up and putting some cream on it, he explained how to clean it and tape it up so it didn’t diminish and fade. Holding her hand over it, she felt oddly closer to them like just having that mark on her made them somehow closer. On the heel of that thought, though, was, what if they didn’t like it? What if, despite their assurances, they weren’t in it for the long haul? Oh God!

Kenny must have sensed her panic because she grabbed hold of her shoulders, giving her a little shake and told her. “They will love it! Now, stop worrying. I like this impulsive you, she’s cute.” Winking, they made their way out of the shop.

Seeing a shoe store with boots that caught her eye, they went to go in there only for her to stop short and look around. The hairs on the nape of her neck were standing on end and she felt a shiver go up her spine. Someone was watching her.

“Emily?” The hand on her shoulder and voice startled her out of her inspection of the surrounding area.

As she was about to answer, her phone rang, making her jump and nearly drop her purse. Digging through it, she saw that it was Coop’s face on the screen.