Dusty was stuck in the tattoo shop, tatting up some old man’s ass. Wasn’t exactly his dream gig, but the old geezer was shelling out good cash, and Dusty wasn’t the type to turn down easy money. So there he was, hand planted on some wrinkly skin, trying to get the angle right without gagging or laughing his head off. It wasn’t glamorous work, but hell, a guy’s gotta eat—even if it meant inking "Kiss my ass" on some geriatric biker’s backside.

"Man, this is a new low,"Dusty muttered under his breath, the buzzing of the needle drowning out his words. He shifted his stance, grimacing."Can’t believe this is what my life’s come to."

Right on cue, the bell above the door jingled, and Dusty glanced up to see Mickey strolling in, smirking like he was begging to get into some trouble. Mickey always had that cocky, too-cool-for-anything strut, like he was the star of some movie only he was watching. The second his eyes landed on Dusty, that smirk turned into a full-blown grin.

"Well, ain’t this a sight,"Mickey drawled, leaning against the counter like he owned the place."Didn’t know you were into this kinda thing, Dust. Always figured you for the broads-only type."

Dusty felt his face heat up, but he didn’t look away from his work."Shut your trap, Mick. I’m busy."

"Busy? Yeah, looks like it."Mickey cocked an eyebrow, his grin widening."Gettin’ real cozy with that old man’s ass. You sure this ain’t a little too... personal for ya?"

Dusty gritted his teeth, the needle buzzing harder as he tried to keep his hand steady."You got a reason for bein’ here, or you just here to run your mouth?"

Mickey chuckled"Just sayin’, Dust. You’re gonna give people ideas. Not exactly a good look for a guy like you, know what I mean?"

"At least I’m makin’ good cash,"Dusty shot back, finally glancing up at him."What’re you doin’ here besides bein’ a pain in my ass?"Mickey shrugged, sliding into the empty chair across the room."Oh, I got plenty. Like, for one, you hear about your girl?"

Dusty’s hand froze, the buzzing stopping abruptly. He straightened up, glaring at Mickey."What about her? And why the hell’s her name comin’ outta your mouth?"

Mickey leaned back, making himself comfortable."Relax, Romeo. Just heard somethin’ through the grapevine. Word is, your broad got dragged downtown to some party by her friends. There’s talk she might even be leavin’ town soon."

"Bull,"Dusty spat, eyes narrowing."She wouldn’t go downtown without me. She knows better."

"That’s what I thought too,"Mickey said with a shrug, clearly enjoying himself."But you know how it is. Party gets wild, things happen. And get this—some Saint was all over her."

Dusty’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists."What Saint? What the hell are you talkin’ about?"

"Some pretty boy from uptown, think he’s hot shit,"Mickey said, smirking."Heard he was layin’ it on thick, wouldn’t leave her alone. Even snuck a kiss before she bailed."

Dusty slammed the tattoo gun onto the counter, the sound making the old man jump."You’re tellin’ me she’s thinkin’ about leavin’ and she’s lettin’ some uptown punk kiss her? You better not be screwin’ with me, Mick."

Mickey raised his hands, mock innocence all over his face."Hey, I’m just the messenger, pal. But if I were you, I’d have a little chat with her before someone else does."

Dusty grabbed his jacket, shrugging it on in one angry motion."I’ll finish this later,"he barked at the old man before storming toward the door.