Slow Ride (Hell's Tribe MC Series) [Book 1]

Chapter 4: Thin Ice

~Knox~

My hand was beginning to cramp up from the familiar buzzing of the tattoo machine as it vibrated through me while I finished up the last of the shading on the large dragon. I wiped away the excess ink with some paper towel and green soap and took a moment to revel in my work. It had been a long process, spanned out over three sittings since the guy was a bitch when it came to pain, and now it was finally done. The details of the scales on the dragon wrapping around the back of his shoulder were incredible, even to me.

"Alright, man. All done," I said, removing my latex gloves and stretching my hands for the first time in what felt like hours.

"Thank fuck. I don't think I could take another minute," he said, rising to his feet and walking towards the full-length mirror at the back of the shop.

I rolled my eyes as I followed after him to admire my work. He was the typical frat boy type that came in here looking for a badass tattoo that would make him look cool to all his buddies, but couldn't take the pain after half an hour under the needle. I didn't particularly enjoy working on his type, but the look of contentment in his eyes as he admired his start to a full backpiece made it all worth it.

"It's sick man," he said happily.

I nodded in agreement. "I'm glad you like it. Talk to Dean at the front to book your next appointment and I'll have Bucky wrap you up."

"I will, thank you," he said, slapping my hand in his in a slight shake.

I couldn't get to the back room any faster. I needed food and a cigarette, badly. I had back to back appointments and had been working on the douchey frat boy for almost two hours straight because he kept asking for breaks. While I was nearly covered in tats on my whole upper-body, I had become used to the burn of the needle against my skin. But as an artist, nothing was worse than a client who underestimated the pain and decided to go for a big tattoo as their first, only to find out real quick that they can't handle the pain.

Tweaker was sitting on the couch in the back, a joint between his lips and a beer in his hand. Although all the guys from the Utah charter were pretty cool, Tweaker and I got along best, despite the fact that he was privy to all the shit that had gone down with me in Arizona.

"I'm fucking starving," I grumbled. I pulled open the refrigerator door, disappointed to find it empty of anything other than beer and soda.

"Let's go to Black's and get drunk," Tweaker suggested, taking in a toke from the joint in his hands.

As tempting as that offer sounded since I knew Ronnie was working tonight, the shop was still open for a couple more hours.

"I gotta stick around in case there are any walk-ins," I said, unhappily.

I doubted that anyone would spontaneously come in for a tattoo when we closed in just short of two hours, but I never gave up a shot at making money, especially when it was clean money.

"Fuck that," Tweaker mumbled through the joint between his lips. "Mick won't care if you cut out early."

I knew he was right, Mick was a pretty laid back Prez, but I didn't want to take any chances of pissing him off after he convinced the rest of the guys to vote me in when I was sick of being nomad. Mick welcomed me with open arms and made me manager of the tattoo shop almost immediately after the transfer. I'd missed doing it while I was nomad, and didn't think I'd be able to find a full-time gig in a town as small as Tooele, but it just so happened that Mick and a few other guys were all part owners of the best shop in the city.

"It's alright," I said, waving him off. "I'll meet you there when we close up."

Tweaker shrugged. "Your loss. Mack just texted that Candy's there, and I can't promise I won't take her back to the clubhouse tonight," He teased.