Despite that, all I could think about was the attention she paid to me. The way she watched and wondered at everything I did. And sure, she was there for an article and it made sense she would pay attention to the minor details for her article, but it was more than that. I was sure.
I read people easily and comprehensively. My entire life, I could almost hear people’s innermost thoughts without them opening their mouths. And Hannah was no different, she wore every emotion on her sleeve and couldn’t hide a thing.
“Hey.” Reyna came around the building toward the parking lot and forced me to get out of my car so I could pretend to function like an adult. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, perfect.” I adjusted my dark sunglasses and grabbed my bag of snacks and drinks I packed.
“Hey.” She called again as I tried to walk toward the back door to the shop, “Thanks for letting Hannah tag along with you in Dallin’s place.” She smiled sweetly, and it was impossible to not give into her effortless charm. Next to Parker, Reyna was one of the easiest people to talk to and we had gotten close over the years. “It means the world to her to do a piece on someone so dynamic and different.”
“Different.” I nodded, smiling through that same stupid feeling I got in my gut when the shitty biker said I wasn’t his type, like there was something wrong with me. “Right, no problem.”
“I didn’t mean you were different in a bad way.” Her eyebrows pinched together in confusion, but I waved her off.
“I get it.” Smiling, I hoped to lighten the entire situation so I could escape. “I have to get ready for my first client.”
“Okay.” She hesitated as I left her in the parking lot and went inside.
Different.
Dynamic.
I’d been called every name under the sun in my life, and it never bothered me before. So I couldn’t figure out why I was so conscious of the labels the last few days. I wouldn’t change a thing about me and my lifestyle even if I had a gun to my head, but I had never noticed the difference between me and most of the world before, either.
Until now.
“Oh good, you’re here on time today.” Trey deadpanned as I walked through the employee lounge in the back of the shop. “I was starting to worry I’d be stuck with Hannah today.” He grimaced as I ignored him, dropping off a few items for the main fridge. “I think I scare her.”
“You scare everyone.” I deadpanned.
“Not as much as you do.” He threw back in our normal insulting fashion.
“True.” I shrugged him off and grabbed my bag to leave.
“Don’t run into any garlic out there.” He yelled as I walked out, making one of his usual vampire references.
“Watch out for those silver bullets.” I lobbed back with my usual werewolf dig, though mine was accurate because he had a Little Red Riding Hood kink and he just scoffed at me in return.
I ignored everyone else, going straight to my room and mentally preparing for my first client. His name was Jack, and he was a Nashville cop who lost his K9 officer two months ago in the line of duty. He was getting a full sleeve dedicated to his partner, Arlo. It was an emotional piece, and it meant a lot to more than just Jack. Arlo’s other partners on the force and his family, including Jack’s kids, loved him, and his loss had a wide impact.
If I was going to get praise about my art and featured in some article, I wanted Arlo’s piece to be at the forefront of it all. I wanted to be known for something that mattered.
“Your appointment is here. And so is Hannah.” Paisley popped in with a mug of coffee in her hands and a hung overlook on her face. Something I could sympathize with completely. We were lucky to not open until ten in the morning, but most of us led lifestyles that left us out on the town until the early hours, anyway.
“Be right there.” I took one last look at my room, making sure I was all prepped before heading out. Luckily, I made sure most everything was ready last night before leaving for the bar with Parker, so the morning would be easier. Before leaving my room to grab Hannah and Jack, I took a glance in the mirror and tried to see myself through fresh eyes.
I looked like a punk rock version of Sandy from Grease. An off the shoulder black blouse that showed off my chest piece, with a pair of black leather pants that hugged my ass and legs like a second skin down to the leopard print red bottoms that were as tall as skyscrapers, gave me the confidence to accomplish anything.
I had my hair up in a fun and flirty up do with a matching leopard print bandana to tie it all together.
I looked hot, that I knew. Sexuality was easy to understand when it was so commonly talked about in society. What was less known, however, was the why behind being openly sexy for others to see. If you did it for someone else, you were desperate. If you did it for yourself, you were conceited.
So was desperation or conceitedness to blame for my outfit?
They called me Emo Barbie, and it worked for me. Feminine and powerful all wrapped into one kick ass, steal your girl, doll. Yet in the moment, it felt like a costume.
“Hey.” Hannah cautiously walked in my room, catching me mirror gazing. “I hope you don’t mind, Paisley told me to come back.” She looked so fucking cute in a pair of baby blue capris, a white boat neck shirt and matching white flats. She tied up her strawberry blond hair in a slick-backed ponytail, accentuating her bright green eyes. Hannah looked like the complete opposite of me standing there in black leather and Louboutin.
“Not at all.” I gave her an easygoing smile to reassure her. Before I even got out of bed today, I promised myself I’d be welcoming and accepting to Hannah. Because she didn’t need to suffer because of whatever mental breakdown I was going through the last few days, even if I could still taste her orgasm on my tongue from my dream. “Thanks for coming in.”
“Oh, I’m so excited.” She gushed relief as she eased into my welcomeness. “I can’t wait to see what masterpiece you create today.”
“Come on in and set your stuff down and I’ll show you the sketch.” I grabbed my tablet to show her the three-hundred-and-sixty-degree 3D rendering of the piece, complete with Jack’s beefy arm wearing the art. “Today’s piece is important.”
“Oh, my god.” She whispered in awe, leaning against my arm to see the tablet better. I tried to ignore how being that close to her felt and focused on the tattoo. “Is that K-9 Arlo?”
“It is. Good eye.”
“I did a piece on him.” She said, mystified, before shaking her head. “I sobbed at the ceremony they did when they laid him to rest.”
“You went?” I asked, lowering the tablet.
She took a deep breath and looked up at me. “My dad is the Police Commissioner of Nashville.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “I go to all those hard moments with him.”
“That can’t be easy.” I deduced.
“It’s harder for him. My mom passed away years ago, the least I can do is to be there in silent support for him while he supports all of his men and women in uniform.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone like you before.” I admitted, hating how deep that felt to say, but it needed to be acknowledged. Like her specialness needed to be recognized. She blushed and twisted her fingers together, clearly uncomfortable at the praise. I didn’t want to keep her as the center of attention if she was uneasy, so I moved on, nodding for her to follow me out to get Jack.
