Sell Out

03: No Way.

'I've got thick skin and elastic heart, but your blade might be too sharp'

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Alexis
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"Absolutely not." I tell him, walking towards the kitchen to wash my mug. "A tattoo was definitely not part of the deal."

"Every member has one." He says, pulling out his phone and texting someone.

"I'm not 'every member'." I air quote with my fingers.

"I don't care." He says in a bored tone, sparing me a glance before returning his attention to his phone.

"Nor do I. But I'm not getting a tattoo." I had no desire to have a rose tattooed to my arm - permanently.

"Alexandra." His voice was hard. He walked up to me, pulling my arm so I was facing him. "You're getting a rose. You aren't part of the Black Roses if you don't. And our deal is off."

I wanted to bash his head against a wall so badly. The urge was overbearing. I closed my eyes and let out a loud sigh. "You're lucky I'm greedy." I say, turning to dry the mug.

"Cmon." He says once I've dried the mug, pulling my elbow as he practically drags me out of my home.

I seethe in anger, barely managing to grab my keys as I pull my arm out of his hold and lock the door.

"Do not touch me again." I say coldly, rubbing the place his tight grip held onto. I didn't like being manhandled like that. I'd never let anyone treat me in such a manner - job or not. My self-respect was something I valued, and I wouldn't let anyone think they could walk all over me.

He rolls his eyes as if my little outburst is nothing interesting, walking away. I hesitate before following. I didn't align my steps with his because I didn't want to be near him. When we stepped into the lift, I ignored his entire presence. I felt like I was overreacting, but then again, it just really pissed me off.

By the time the lift had reached the ground floor, I'd managed to calm myself down. We stepped out, and I got my car keys from the pocket of my cargos. "I'm driving." I say because there was only one person I trusted with making me a tattoo.

"No, you're not." He says, pulling my car keys out of my hand.

"Hey!" I shout. "That's my keys." He runs off, making me chase him to my car. We looked like lunatics: people were staring at us as if we had gone mad. I laughed as we reached my car, out of breath.

"Nice ride." He admires my car before pulling the driver's side open and preparing himself to get in.

"Ryker. I'm driving. I'll get the tattoo done. Then you can come see it after."

"I already have my tattoo artist ready."

"I'm not getting it done by whoever you've got." I say sternly

"Why not?" He asks, pulling himself away from my car and leaning against it. He pulls out a packet of cigarettes and starts lighting it before blowing the smoke in the air.

I cough, turning my head away from him.

"I'm getting it done by someone I know. Now, if you don't mind, could you step aside?" I say, stepping around him so that I could get into the driver's side.