It’s Teaser
Tuesday! In less than two weeks, the INKED Anthology is scheduled to be released, so I thought it
was time to introduce to you… Becks and Payne.
Enjoy this opening scene from my full-length novel, HOUSE OF PAYNE!
EXCERPT:
“Excuse me… Becks?”
Becks
Delgado turned from her study of the slush-covered streets of Chicago’s
bustling downtown area known as the Loop. Beyond the reception area’s floor-to-ceiling
windows, traffic moved at a snail’s pace, the occasional impatient honking of a
horn all but muted by the thick insulated glass. God, she hated this part of
town. Hated. And it wasn’t because the traffic in the financial district
was usually enough to make even a saint wish for more middle fingers. This part
of town represented death to her, in every sense of the word. Her little
brother’s life had come to an abrupt end only a couple blocks from where she
now stood, along with life as she’d known it.
But
she’d had to come. And she wouldn’t leave until she had her pound of flesh.
“Yes?”
The
rockabilly brunette manning the reception desk smiled while flicking scarlet-tipped
fingers expertly over the surface of a tablet. “You’re in luck. Payne will see
you now. Right up the stairs and through the double doors.”
The
tension inside Becks ratcheted up another notch, but she nodded her thanks and
headed out of the elegant lobby of House Of Payne, Chicago’s premiere tattoo
studio. Though calling it a studio
was a little like calling Marilyn Monroe an attractive woman.
House Of Payne was unique in the
world of ink, and it wasn’t shy about letting everyone know it. The difference was
noticeable right from the moment a client entered the building. Unlike other
tattoo studios, there were no tattoo stencils tacked up on walls or kept in
disorganized, well-used portfolios. Instead, state-of-the-art touchscreens embedded
into the V-shaped reception counter provided instant access to the House’s
countless exclusive designs.
Clearly, only the best of the best
was accepted here.
The retro-hipster atmosphere most studios
adopted was also nowhere to be found. Fashioned after upscale art galleries, House
Of Payne prided itself on paying homage to the glory and beauty of art. The
only difference was that this particular gallery worshipped living art, and the
human body was perceived as an ever-changing canvas just begging to be
decorated.
No one could overlook the
gallery-like bones of the showroom beyond the open reception area. Black marble
flooring, modular white walls, brilliant spotlighting and mobile floor displays
of stacked flatscreen TVs that matrixed together into a complete image—all of
it was a backdrop for showcasing unique artwork.
In
the center of the showroom was the true gem of the House, a 3D holographic
image beamed onto a large transparent film suspended over a gilded circular
plinth. As a 3D artist herself and an admirer of the “Pepper’s ghost” effect,
Becks knew just how much it had cost to make that holographic image happen. But
that wasn’t why she kept glancing back to that display. The 3D image, a puzzle
piece falling from a human heart and turning black with death while exposing
the demons within the organ… it was hers.
The quiet agony it represented was known only to her, and those demons within
her heart were still there. That missing piece of heart—that missing piece of her—had let the demons out when it had
died.
There was no way she’d allow that
sacred part of her to be drawn onto every poser who came here just because they
thought it looked cool.
Following the brunette’s directions,
Becks zipped up a glass brick staircase to the second floor where the tattoo
artists did their work. Each work station was discreetly housed within its own
private cubicle of frosted glass, with the subtle logo of the House Of Payne
embedded into the glass itself. The trippy strains of Pink Floyd whispered
overhead as she pushed through the closed double doors without knocking. So
what if the man inside didn’t approve of her manners? She wasn’t there to be
polite. She was there to kick the ass of arguably the most powerful man in the
tattoo industry. Knocking his head against a wall was the only kind of knocking
she had in mind.
“Ah, the one and only Rebecca Delgado
has finally graced House Of Payne with her presence. Gotta say, Becks, it took
you long enough.”
She slammed to a halt, irrationally
pissed off now that the rug had pulled out from under her. Damn it, she’d been
the one who had wanted to do the pulling. With a vexed frown, she regarded the
man lounging back against a massive glass and steel executive desk, his arms and
ankles crossed as if he’d been waiting for her his whole life. From the polished
brown leather lace-up boots to the tailored trousers, button-down dress shirt
and shocking red suspenders, he looked like he’d just strolled off a fashion
shoot. He was her definition of eye-candy, and if he hadn’t just rattled her
cage so thoroughly, she would no doubt be in danger of having to wipe the drool
off her chin.
Took you long enough…?
Sebastian Payne, or Payne, was as
well-known in Chicago as Oprah or Jordan. From Hollywood’s A-Listers to
European royalty, from music moguls to the gladiators of the athletic world—they
all came to Payne for ink. His fame began years earlier when he posted a
session online with the client’s consent. The client in question had once been
a super-sweet, cavity-inducing child star before vanishing when she’d grown out
of her adorable lisping phase. She’d chosen to celebrate her twenty-first
birthday at Payne’s then-tiny parlor by getting a tattoo across her ass that
read “Fuck It Hard.”
Clearly, the saccharine-sweet kid
was all grown up and itching to prove it.
Payne had been more than willing to
help her scratch that itch. With the camera rolling, he’d taken the tat up on
its suggestion and had given that young woman what appeared to be the wildest,
screaming-for-God ride of her life. She was now making a name for herself in
the adult entertainment industry with a website that pulled down an estimated
seven figures annually.
Payne
had become a living legend.
It probably didn’t hurt that he was
so gorgeous he didn’t seem real. With mussed tobacco brown hair, heavy-lidded hazel
eyes that suggested he’d just rolled out of an overcrowded bed and a crooked
smile full of sin, Becks had hatched her share of fantasies about him. So had every
other woman in Chicagoland.
But that was before he’d stooped to
pirating artwork off the internet like a goddamn hack.
“My, my. How remarkable you are.”
She gave herself a mental pat on the back for her calm tone. No one would have
guessed she’d spent the entire trip on the L envisioning ways of torturing him.
Almost nothing could shake her out of the cocoon of numbness she’d been in for
the past four years, but her art was an exception. If anyone dared to screw
with it, she’d make them regret the day they were born. “You’re capable of
looking me right in the eye as if you’re unaware that you’re nothing more than
a common piece of shit. I’m impressed with your testicular fortitude.”
His cocky smile dropped. She picked
it up and returned it in spades.
“Common, huh?” She’d thought those
heavy-lidded eyes couldn’t get any sexier. Then he narrowed them and showed her
how wrong she could be. “Even when I didn’t have a pot to piss in, I’ve never
been common in my life.”
“Pirating artwork off the internet
and claiming it as your own is as common as they come.”
“True… if that was the reality of
the situation.” He reached back behind him for a tablet identical to the
brunette’s downstairs and danced his fingers across its surface. “There. Look
familiar?”
The last thing Becks wanted to do
was take the tablet. But a superior smirk was doing its damnedest to seep into
his expression, so she had no choice. A second later she clenched her jaw so her
teeth wouldn’t drop all over the carpet at the sight of a familiar invoice.
Shit.
*****
BLURB:
HOUSE OF PAYNE – Stacy Gail
Life is supposedly what you make of it, but that’s crap as far as 3D artist Becks Delgado is concerned. She never wanted her brother to die in a car accident… or to be the one who was behind the wheel. Her external scars are nothing compared to the raw wounds inside, and death seems to be the only way to find peace.
Sebastian Payne took the concept of a tattoo parlor and transformed it into a sophisticated gallery of living art. The House Of Payne now caters to the rich and infamous, has garnered a worldwide following, and is run by Sebastian with an iron fist. He knows Becks is exactly what The House Of Payne needs, but there’s a problem. The accident that changed her life left its mark on him as well, and whether he likes it or not, it’s time to put his House in order.
Life is supposedly what you make of it, but that’s crap as far as 3D artist Becks Delgado is concerned. She never wanted her brother to die in a car accident… or to be the one who was behind the wheel. Her external scars are nothing compared to the raw wounds inside, and death seems to be the only way to find peace.
Sebastian Payne took the concept of a tattoo parlor and transformed it into a sophisticated gallery of living art. The House Of Payne now caters to the rich and infamous, has garnered a worldwide following, and is run by Sebastian with an iron fist. He knows Becks is exactly what The House Of Payne needs, but there’s a problem. The accident that changed her life left its mark on him as well, and whether he likes it or not, it’s time to put his House in order.
*****
Don’t forget to put INKED on your Goodreads TBR list today!
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| Obligatory tattooed eye candy. You're welcome. ;) |
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