Harry Styles
The soft buzzing sound of the tattoo machine was so familiar to me now that I could only listen to it if I truly focused, or else it felt like silence was surrounding me.
I didn't mind the silence... I actually preferred it.
The pain was another thing I was awfully used to, the small needles inking my skin barely tickled me and I looked down to watch as the artist was nearly finishing the tattoo on my arm.
It'd been a while since I'd gotten a new tattoo, but I was a bit bored today and the parlor wasn't busy, so I took that as an opportunity to just pass the time.
An hour had gone by already and I had memorized the number of black and white tiles on the floor, as if I didn't already know. Well, I owned this place... so I knew pretty much everything.
It wasn't exactly mine, but I was supposed to drop by once in a while to make sure things were running smoothly... as in if the money was coming and the transactions were being made.
I actually lived close by, so it wasn't a problem for me to spend time here. I didn't have any special assignments this month, so maybe that was the reason for my boredom.
My father was currently traveling to Turkey to close a deal with one of the biggest drug dealers there, so not having him around also meant I was in charge.
But literally nothing was happening lately... which was too good to be true. I called this the calm before the storm, because shit just had to hit the fan and I knew I'd end up losing my fucking temper somehow.
It had been a week since my father left the country and he was supposed to be back in another week, something about taking his twenty five years younger girlfriend to join him on vacation after he handled the new deal.
I had zero patience for this shit, but I couldn't simply change things and do them my way. I had to follow the fucking protocols.
"Did you hear about the girl Hugo killed?"
I snapped out of my thoughts when Tyler, the tattoo artist, dared to speak to me.
He had a reputation for not being able to shut his fucking mouth, but I admired his courage.
We were alone inside the studio on the second floor of the parlor, right next to my office actually. There were only another two artists downstairs today and I knew the place was about to close, it was getting late and maybe I'd need to find some company for tonight.
I hated being alone when I was anxious, my brain was a dangerous place.
"Who the fuck did Hugo kill?" I took a deep breath, looking deep into Tyler's eyes until he looked down, focusing his attention on the tattoo again.
"Some stripper." He whispered, his black gloves were the same color as the recent ink on my skin and this conversation starter seemed like a headache.
I looked around the room again, the many designs and drawings on the walls were colorful, contrasting with the black paint behind them. The floor looked like a board of chess and it was on purpose, the whole parlor was like this because of its name: Checkmate.
"Why the fuck would Hugo kill a stripper?" I furrowed my eyebrows, the word 'stripper' itself was a trigger to me because it forced me to remember about a very certain family who happened to own one of the many strip clubs in the city.
I didn't even want to think about them, the memories that threatened to resurface were enough to make my blood boil.
"I think she changed her mind about fucking him and he didn't like it, he told us about it and we tried calling Aaron, but he didn't answer-"
