#〖 🎶 ┊ ❛TATTOOED MOTHERFUCKER❜〗

[startseeingstars]

Collision Path - Mike 5lbs of Pressure

CH02 Mike POV 🎶 {My Own Summer (Shove It) - Deftones}

T/W - drugs/alcohol, sexual themes

We walked out of the club toward the car - my Uncle’s pride and joy.

“You didn’t have to talk down to me back there.” I stated, reaching the passenger door. He unlocked it and we climbed in.

“You didn’t have to make an ass out of yourself.” He said it as though it was a matter of fact, and I felt slight embarrassment.

“What was the point of me being there?” I asked him and he looked at me with defeat.

“To watch, learn. You need to start using whatever’s under that stupid fucking hat.” He took my hat off and threw it in the backseat, making me roll my eyes in annoyance.

I knew he wanted me to be like him - unfeeling, ruthless. But I couldn’t care less about his operation. I didn’t want any part of this, so of course I was reluctant to learn the ropes.

Leff had berated me many times already about how I should be grateful that he took me under his wing after my Mom died - that he’s trying to set us up for life. He was a hard ass, which is why he ran the operation. Most days it felt as though I was nothing more than a dog for him to boss around.

I bit my tongue, knowing there was no point in arguing with him yet again. I’d already been clear that I wanted to spend my life doing music, not running drugs around town for him. Unfortunately, the music scene out here was abysmal - just like at home. I’d been struggling to find a front man or drummer for my band for years now. The only other member was the other guitarist, my friend Eli.

I followed Leff out the door and downstairs. We hadn’t spoken much since yesterday but I didn’t mind. The less conversation with him, the better. To my surprise, I saw a familiar redhead in the mail room, glancing over her mail as she walked over to the stairs. My mouth went dry as I realised it was the dancer from the club yesterday. She looked different with clothes on. I guess I didn't often imagine what clothing strippers would wear day to day, but she was wearing black shorts and an oversized plain black T-shirt. I could see her tattoos more clearly now - at least the ones on her arms and legs and I wished I could ask her about some of them.

Leff opened the door and gave me a look that read ‘hurry up’. I looked at her as I was leaving and she looked up at me. I saw recognition in her eyes as she smiled politely at me. Her eyes didn’t linger on me for long before she left.

“Don’t even think about it.” Leff warned, keeping his tone low as he unlocked the car.

“About what?” I replied, curiously.

“Her.” His reply was simple and firm as he started the car.

“Don’t think I could pull her?” I asked, though I knew his answer.

“Fuck no. She’s hot and you’re … a rodeo clown.” He looked me over and shook his head with disapproval. I knew he hated my look, but it made me feel confident. It was just a bonus that he despised it.

“Besides, you can’t get attached to people in this line of work. I’ve told you this, Mikey.” He continues to talk down on me but, at this point, I had gotten good at tuning him out.

I found myself wondering about the redhead. She must be new to the building - I definitely wouldn’t have forgotten a beautiful face like hers. Or her legs… especially in those heels from the club.

I’d spent most of that deal sneaking glances at her as she danced and gave her attention to the lucky bastard who’s lap she sat in.

I was no stranger to strip clubs, especially since Leff had taken me in, but most girls didn’t have the same look at her, especially at the higher end places I’d visited on my nights off with Sicky - Leff’s right hand man.

The day goes off without a hitch, beside the casual gun pointed to my head. I refused to admit how much it shook me up - but in the moment, I genuinely thought that crazy motherfucker would actually shoot me over interrupting his game. Even if I did admit it, Leff and Sicky would laugh it off and call me ‘princess’ for the rest of the day.

I walked into the warehouse with the paper bag full of guns from the deal. I placed it on Leff’s desk as Sicky lit up a cigarette on the couch, smirking at my expense as he usually did.

“What the fuck is that?” Leff eyed the bag.

“The guns.” I shrugged, placing my hands on my hips defensively.

“And you’re just carrying them down the street in a paper fucking bag?” He snapped, snatching the bag and looking inside it.

I rolled my eyes, but I realised then he was concerned about the risk. Still, I held my ground.

“I got them here, didn’t I?” My tone was annoyed and he shook his head, opening the small safe that sat on the desk.

“You wouldn’t have if that fucking bag ripped. Use your fucking head, Mikey.” His tone was harsh as he handed me a $100 note.

“Maybe I’d care a little more if you paid better. I’m the one out there taking the risks, getting guns held to my head and shit.” I retorted, taking a seat on the couch.

I watched Leff and Sicky share a look but didn’t think much of it.

“Maybe I’ll pay you a little more when you start acting like you want this job.” Leff’s words ended the conversation. I didn’t have it in me to argue.

Eli knocked on my door and I called out to him that it was open. He came in carrying his guitar case and sat down in the armchair as I lit a smoke on the couch.

I always made sure to only invite Eli over for practice on the nights I knew Leff wouldn’t be home.

“Where’s this singer?” He asked as I exhaled, shrugging. “Dunno, man. He said he’d be here by now.” The search for a vocalist was draining and felt useless in this fucking city. “We should move to fucking Austin, Texas. The scene out there’s supposed to be way better.” I reminded him. As per usual, he ignored my comment about moving. He was a mama's boy at heart and hated the idea of leaving the city, despite the fact his brother was killed years ago a few streets over.

My Mom OD’d back home and the first thing I wanted to do was get as far away from that place as possible.

“Dude, try this shit. Best I’ve had in a while.” He scooped up a bit of coke on his key and held it out to me, effectively changing the subject. Without hesitation, I snorted it and felt the familiar burn in my sinuses. I picked up my guitar and we began jamming.