My dad had kept me, and my lying, cheating mother moved right on in with said “on the side boyfriend” who was some kind of CEO and had been well equipped to keep her in diamonds and designer gowns, a lifestyle she’d preferred over being a wife and mother.
I looked up at the sound of the bell jingling above the door.
“How’s my best ho?” This was Teeny’s usual greeting; there was never a lack of smartass love.
“Hey, Hooker, I missed your face. Trip’s in the back waitin’ on his donuts, babe. Just go on through and he'll get you all prepped up.”
Teeny walked over to give me a one-armed hug and a big fat ol’ kiss and hurried on back to Trip's station. “Can’t keep a sexy beast like that waiting.” She threw over her shoulder as she went. As usual, she was decked out looking like a million bucks, mostly for Trip’s benefit no doubt. She looked good—she always looked fantastic with her pretty blonde hair that's as straight as a board, blue-grey eyes, and smoky make-up that gave her a sultry look. She might appear meek and quiet with her five-foot-three frame, but that girl was a firecracker. You would never guess from the way we talk to each other just what she meant to me. Teeny had always been there—at my worst, at my best. She was always in the wings, silently watching my back. She knew I could take care of myself.
One of the many things I’d learned about Teeny growing up was she loved her sleep. Since the age of seven, when we had our first sleep over, it was obvious then. She was grumpy as all get out in the morning. This had only slightly improved over the years, significantly since she could drink a shit-ton of coffee. Another fact about Teeny that I discovered at age twelve, was you didn't mess with Teeny, her family or her friends. If you did, you'd get one hell of a serving; that girl had a temper worse than a rabid pit bull. At age seventeen, a house full of high school party goers and I watched her throw one hell of a right hook that knocked her cheating piece-of-crap boyfriend right on his ass. He was naked and caught red-handed, leaving him with a broken nose and two black eyes. Adding to his humiliation, he had to explain the rest of the school year how he was bested by tiny, little chick fists.
Not twenty minutes later, Teeny came wandering out to the front desk blushing, closely followed by Trip wearing a smirk, mumbling about aftercare instruction sheets.
“You need me to explain how to take care of it, Teen?” I questioned as I handed her the detailed instructions on cleaning and caring for a piercing.
“No, I...I think I got it... I mean Trip covered it, ah I mean explained it... I'm good, fine, perfect. I'll catch you for coffee tomorrow morning. Bye, see ya, later,” she babbled with her head down, trying to hide bright, pink flushed cheeks. She slid some cash into my hand for her piercing and dashed out the door so fast, you would have thought the building was on fire. Strange, it was hard to embarrass Teen.
I spun around and nailed Trip with a glare, asking “What the fuck did you do?”
He smirked and sauntered away, totally ignoring me. I jumped up to follow him, intending to give him an earful, and get some answers, then making a mental note to call Teeny later and kick a round of twenty questions off. Just then the front doorbell sounded, letting us know a customer had arrived, halting my progress. I knew we didn't have any appointments for a while, so it'd have to be a walk-in, no doubt someone coming to get some unimaginative flash piece from the wall charts.
I’d spun around. As I did, my mouth dropped open, closely followed by what I'm sure was drool and possibly my tongue hanging out. My heart rate kicked up a notch and my skin flushed.
Holy hot damn!
Standing in front of me was an older playgirl worthy, hotness-personified version of Trip. He was just slightly taller at what a guess would be around six foot three, meaning even on my four-inch heels, I was craning my neck to look up at him. His broad, muscular frame, that looked as solid and toned as a brick wall, filled the room. Beautiful aqua-blue eyes, in stark contrast to his slightly olive skin, gave a hint at what had to be a Hispanic background. My hands twitched at the thought of rubbing my hands over his jet-black hair that was neatly buzzed close to his head. Dear Lord and the angels above, he looked around about two-hundred-and-twenty pounds of panty wetting, drool-worthy, drop-to-your-knees and thank all that is holy muscled man. I blinked and gave my head a quick shake to pick my thoughts up out of the gutter, cleared my throat, and watched as he dropped a tan-colored duffle bag to the floor by his feet.
I took a calming breath before I spoke. “Hi, welcome to Needle’s Kiss. Can I help you with anything?”
A deep rumbling voice that shot straight to my nipples and spread goose bumps along my entire body answered “Lookin’ for Trip.”
With hottie’s eyes glued to me, I quickly told him to take a seat while I went and got Trip. He ignored my invitation and continued studiously eyeing me in a way that made me want to jump on him and lick him head to toe.
“Trip!” I called as I walked into the break room on wobbly legs. Wow, I really needed to get laid if I was this affected by one guy, strike that one sexy as fuck guy. “There is one hell of a hot dude that looks kinda like you in the front waiting room.”
Trip's eyebrows shot up, and he threw the titty magazine he had been reading onto the folding card table that sat in the middle of the room. He moved swiftly to the front of the shop, his boots thumping on the linoleum with each step.
“WHAT THE FUCK!” I heard Trip yell excitedly, before I caught sight of the two god-like guys moving in for a manly handshake and shoulder-slap type hug. A smile with both dimples played out on Trip's face.
“Just got in, first stop, little brother, and ink.” Sex God greeted him.
“It's damn good to see you back.” Trip’s head came up, and he pointed to me. “Scar here is the best artist in the state, for the last three years. She'll do a fuck-of-a-job, what ya want?”