Tatt had always been living the same lifestyle: fuck, ink, fight for the club and face any trials that come his way. But after a scrape with law enforcement he finds himself having to work community service to escape going to jail, landing him right...
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Tatt
I swore under my breath when I pulled onto the long dirt road.
Fuck I can smell the horse shit from here. Mother fucking court ordered community service to be completed part time in place of fucking jail is at a farm. At least Deadpan was being patched in and will be able to work at my tattoo parlour while I have to handle this stupid fucking thing but either way it will hurt the parlour, my tattoo parlour. But the kid is good so I will keep him around even after his service is done.
Alright, I know I shouldn't be complaining about not going to serve some time but a horse farm? Fuck I will never stop smelling like shit. But as of now I will stop complaining.... Remember Hamlet had to pull allot of strings to ensure I wasn't behind bars... But a horse farm seriously brother?
The brothers are going to have way too much fun with this because instead of partying, for the next two weeks on Saturday, Sunday, Monday and every other Tuesday I will be serving my time for society here at a barn. Again, I should be happy I am here and not behind bars but fuck. Why did that undercover cop have to be there at that moment, bad luck is what that is. At least I get off at 4 and can be at the parlour by 430 to work on inking some clients till 10.
Okay, okay complaining is out of the system, time to just get this over with.
I pulled my truck up to the wood stained barn, parking it off to the side beside another truck. Sighing I hopped out of the cage, yeah that's right not only am I dealing with horse shit I can't ride my bike here because apparently the barn owner won't allow a bike in case it spooks the horses, so here I am hopping out a cage. I did not drink enough coffee this morning or get a blow to prepare for this day. Shouldn't be too upset but when you run your own tattoo parlour this is the last place you want to be. My business is my life and I can't be working there much this month.
Stop complaining it's not jail...
Tossing my cut into the seat I grabbed my water bottle and started walking to the barn doors glancing at the horses grazing around. See one good thing is right there, the view is better than jail. There positivity, I can do this.
"Your late." The second I took a step through the doors I hear a little voice but couldn't see it in front of me. As I stepped further in the barn I looked around but still didn't see anyone. "Up here delinquent."
My head shot up to the attic where I could see a small girl around 10 with dark brown hair and face full of freckles sitting over the ledge with her legs swinging back and forth.
"Well hello there little darlin'. Sorry about the tardiness boss, my friend couldn't get into my tattoo parlour so I had to go let him in. Won't happen again, scouts honour." I replied back earning a small chuckle from her as she stood up and jumped off the edge making my heart drop until she bounced off some hay barrels.
"Fuck, little darlin', don't do that."
She gave a little gasp as she bounced on over to me, lifting her palm out, "you can't swear. You have to put a dollar in the swear jar."
