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CHAPTER 1
THREE MONTHS AGO - FEBRUARY
EMERY
My heart is racing a little as I rush through the doors of The Sanctuary. Even though I’m running late and feeling a little frazzled, I still take a moment and take in the renovated historic church. The original stained-glass window is gorgeous, and worth appreciating. It might be a bar now, which probably has someone rolling over in their grave somewhere, but the restoration is top notch, and the church wasn’t lost to time and the pitfalls of New Orleans weather.
We’ve lost enough while the city has had to endure the battering of Mother Nature. Being able to have something still standing and solid underneath us is a testament to how deep the roots go and how much people love this city. It’s ingrained in us to have pride in it and to take care of it where and when we can.
The pride we have in our city, the deeply ingrained love we have which you can practically taste in the air, is one of the reasons I’ve never considered leaving the city. Where else would I go? It was a question I could never answer and so I stopped asking.
The only time I strongly considered it was when I was thinking about going to art school, but then I started working at a tattoo shop as a receptionist. One job was all I needed to find my passion. The moment I became an apprentice, I never looked back.
It hasn’t been easy, especially since there are so many men in the industry who look down on a woman using a tattoo gun. Hell, there are still people who look down on me for the tattoos I have, and there sure as fuck are men who have a hell of a lot more than I do. I don’t give a fuck about those people since they aren’t my people. From my perspective, it’s a man’s industry, which sucks, even though they have no issues with using women as sexy canvases.
What can I say? My life is filled with navigating double standards.
I’ve had to do it for so long that it almost feels like second nature at this point.
Then there is the sexual harassment men in my industry think is a-okay to heap upon my shoulders. It’s never gone too far, but the way my boss leers at me is not okay. Can I say that to him? Not if I want to keep my chair at his shop.
One I pay for the privilege of using.
At this point, I’m just trying to build up my client base, my social media presence, and my bank account. The moment I can afford to get my own shop, even if it’s small, I’m making my dreams into reality.
It can’t come soon enough.
When a hand rises from the back of the room, I can’t help but smile at the enthusiastic way Amelia Banks is waving at me. I met her a few years ago at one of the biggest tattoo conventions in the country. It’s in Vegas and fucking huge.
I might have been there under the banner of the shop I work at, but I was mostly there to network and keep an eye on the talent in my industry. Amelia isn’t a tattoo artist, but we became fast friends—the kind which can’t be faked.
Meeting her made all my networking dreams come true because she introduced me to her husband, Beckett Banks, and the rest of the artists in his shop. We make sure to catch up when we’re at the convention and keep in touch throughout the rest of the year, but it’s not enough, honestly.
Beckett even asked me if I was interested in making a move to Denver, where they live, because he was more than willing to take me on as an artist or get me in touch with Wyatt James who owns Vibrant Ink in Denver. If only I was willing to leave New Orleans.
Still, if shit doesn’t change where I’m working, I might take him up on the offer.
When I’m close enough, Amelia is out of her chair and wrapping me up in a hug that has peace settling over me. I don’t know how she does it, but it’s something I’ve needed to feel lately.
There aren’t nearly enough people in my corner and everyday the weight of that settles around me a little more with that stark reminder. My parents hate my career choice and they cut me out of their lives years ago because of it. I don’t think it would have been so bad, but between my sister, Jennifer, and I, I was the good girl.
They already felt like she was a lost cause and they put all their hopes and dreams of a successful future on me. Then I told them I wasn’t going to go to art school, which they weren’t fully on board with from the jump and become a tattoo artist. Yeah, they weren’t happy.
At least I have my aunt in my corner. Hell, even my own sister is lost to me. After catching her fucking my high school boyfriend the summer after graduation, even though we were destined to break up and she was two years older than us, I said to hell with her. It wasn’t the first time she betrayed me or hurt me, but it was the last straw. She’s tried to hit me up for cash since then, but I always turn her down and turn her away.
A pang of regret hits me in the middle of my chest with the thought. My own blood can’t have my back and tried to destroy me with their selfishness. Amelia can’t possibly know my thoughts, but she hugs me tighter all the same.
“It’s so good to see you, Emery,” she gushes, the sincerity in her words making tears sting the backs of my eyes.
“I’ve missed you,” I whisper, hating the hitch in my voice as I admit the truth.
There’s just soothing something about her. Maybe it’s her nurturing nature. Maybe it’s the way she can look at someone and see more than what is on the surface. Maybe it’s because she understands how life can be cruel, but also incredibly beautiful. I don’t know and it doesn’t matter because it’s just part of her magic and I’m damn lucky to know her.
Amelia pulls back from me slightly, her hands gripping my shoulders as she looks into my eyes while searching them for…something. “If you need something, you know you only have to ask.” She gives me a cheeky smile and leans a little closer like she has a secret before whispering, “I have a friend who recently met some bikers who are out of New Orleans. I’m sure I could track them down and get their help if there’s someone fucking with you.”
My eyes widen before she wags her eyebrows comically and the weight on my shoulders, which normally feels suffocating, evaporates and my head tips back as I laugh. Fuck. When was the last time I really laughed? Probably the last time I was on the phone with her.
See? Magic.
