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 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-"
"Hugo is a little too old to be sharing these stories as if it was something to be fucking praised." I interrupted him, reaching for my phone in the pocket of my black slacks. "Where is he right now?"
These men made me fucking sick.
Good thing I had nothing better to do, I needed some excitement to get me through the end of the day.
"Hmm... he's at the bar down the street. Mr. Styles, why are you-"
"Shut the fuck up and finish your job." I snapped, dialing the number I had been looking for.
Tyler was going to learn that the best thing someone could do is keep their fucking mouths shut.
"Did you miss me already, H?" The familiar voice answered the call after the third ring and I smiled to myself, looking down as Tyler continued the tattoo with a very concerned look on his face.
He knew he had fucked up, dear Hugo was going to have to talk to me now. I didn't give a shit that he was one of my father's close friends, my father wasn't here.
"Where are you, Zayn?" I asked him over the phone, noticing Tyler nearly fucked up the tattoo because his hands trembled slightly. "I need you to go to the bar down the street of the parlor and get Hugo for me. Bring him to the second floor."
"Lucky you I was about to go to your place, I'll be there in ten." Zayn hung up the call and I put my phone back in my pocket, letting out a deep breath as I focused on the buzzing again.
Zayn and I had known each other for over twelve years now, and he was probably the only person I would regret killing.
Our history went way back... and now we worked together and helped each other. In more ways than one, I assumed the reason he was headed to my place was that he also wanted a company for the night.
This was why things worked in our little arrangement: we fucked when we both were feeling like it and it never interfered with our friendship or our work. He was one of the many people who had made their way to my bed, and probably the only one who I didn't mind repeating the dose so often.
People knew about it and it wasn't something I hid from anyone, I wasn't ashamed of not labeling my sexuality and it wasn't anyone's fucking business if I was getting my cock sucked by a man or a woman. There was a time when some people dared to make disrespectful jokes, but I can assure you it only happened once... the tiny pieces I had cut that person into were scattered through dumpsters all over the city, and he served as an example for anyone who wanted to have an opinion on my fucking life.
I used my free hand to run through my long hair as I waited for Zayn, my curls were messier than usual because of the length but I preferred my hair like this. It took me two years to grow it how I wanted to, despite my father's unnecessary comments about it.
He was a very difficult man to deal with, growing up with just him around after my mother was killed was a very hard task. I survived, though... barely.
"Almost done," Tyler whispered after some minutes, and at the same time, I heard footsteps on the hallway outside.
The door was pushed open without knocking and I already knew who it was, turning to watch as Zayn walked in the room along with Hugo.
"Took you long enough," I smirked, arching my eyebrows slightly as I noticed the terrified look on Hugo's face.
"Faster than ten minutes, don't be annoying." Zayn huffed, scratching the back of his neck before he leaned against the nearest wall, simply looking at me with those cryptic amber eyes as if he was waiting for me to do something.
"Hello, Hugo," I spoke up, catching his attention when I said his name.
Hugo was in his fifties, with grey streaks on his greasy hair and pale blue eyes. He looked like he was about to shit his pants, which was a nice indication that he had indeed fucked up.
"Harry-"
"It's Mr. Styles to you." I cut him off, realizing Tyler had finished the tattoo and I looked down to see the recent heart design and the words ′you booze you lose′ a bit under it, just how I'd asked him.
My sleeve was rolled up and I kept it that way as I stood up from the leather chair, one glance in Tyler's direction was enough for him to leave the room and close the door behind him, until there were only Zayn, Hugo and me
"I've heard some interesting things." I sighed, taking a step closer to Hugo. "Of you being reckless and killing strippers because they probably refused to get anywhere near your micropenis."
Zayn cackled, throwing his head back as the wing he had tattooed on his neck was on full display now. He had to cover his mouth with his hand to stop himself from laughing again when Hugo gasped.
"It was a misunderstanding. She won't be missed, it was just another whore who didn't do her job properly." Hugo said, nervously taking a step back from me.
"You risk a lot of things by killing random people, Hugo. You seem like a teenager acting like this, my father won't be happy to hear about it." I clicked my tongue. "And I think you're the one who's going to be unable to do their job properly."
Before Hugo could have time to think or ask me anything, I reached for the gun tucked in the waistline of my trousers and I moved way too fast for his undeveloped brain to catch up, aiming right on his dick before I shot him.
The gunshot echoed around the small room and it was nearly deafening, catching Zayn off guard as well.
"Oh wow." Zayn glanced at me with a confused look on his face as Hugo fell on the floor, screaming as he brought his hands up to his bleeding crotch. "Your father is gonna be confused if he dies."
Well, he needed a doctor before he could bleed to death. That would be a tragic accident, though.
My father didn't have to know I was involved.
"What the fuck!" Hugo cried out, rolling on the floor as the white tiles slowly became red when the blood was pooling under him. "I handled it! Fuck!"
"You don't know how to use your dick, so you can't have one." I shrugged.
The smell of blood was starting to grow stronger and Zayn walked closer to me, being careful not to step on the blood on his way. He adjusted his black leather jacket and just watched as Hugo grunted in pain, I wasn't gonna help the motherfucker myself, that was for sure.
"So he killed a stripper? Just like, from a random club?" Zayn asked. "That hit close to home, I'm seeing this girl called June and she dances too. We've only been on a few dates-"
"I really don't want to hear about your dating life." I rolled my eyes.
Why the fuck was everyone with a stripper? Was this life's way of fucking me over?
Hugo finally passed out on the floor and I tucked my hair behind my ear, grabbing my phone to text just the right people to stitch him up and do whatever else was necessary.
The thrill was over way too fast, though... my heart wasn't even racing and he wasn't dead. Fuck, maybe I should just head home and call it a night. Wait for the next job like I usually did or simply wait for my father to come back.
"Why are you in a bad mood?" Zayn asked me with a raised eyebrow. "This is almost like a vacation to you, why look for trouble?"
"I'm not in trouble." I scoffed, looking into his eyes as he stepped closer. "I'm bored."
"I could change that." Zayn smiled.
He always was more careful than me, it was kinda why we made a good team. But he had his separate assignments as well, just like I did. We had to keep the money coming and the partnerships intact... same old fucking bullshit.
I walked back to the chair to grab my blazer before Zayn and I could head to my place, and that's when I noticed something bright pink and black on the floor right next to Hugo's unconscious body. It seemed like it fell out of his pocket when he was rolling around in pain... and I walked closer to see what was written as Zayn stared at me as if I had lost my mind.
And I froze as soon as I noticed what was written on the card.
"What's wrong?" Zayn asked, stepping closer so he could look at the piece of paper on my hand, but it was hard to contain the urge to fucking crush it. "Oh, fuck. Is that from where I think it is?"
"I'm going to fucking kill him," I said through gritted teeth.
Dear Hugo had picked the only strip club he couldn't even get close to... and now I had to clean up his fucking mess before my father returned to a civil war.
"Do you think they'll know it was one of us?" Zayn whispered, catching my attention.
"I really hope not." I sighed, tossing the card on the floor, right on top of the fresh blood, before I mindlessly brought my hand up to my chest to trace over the prominent scar right under my collar bone. "Or else we have to be prepared... I won't complain if I finally make Cleo pay."