A/N: Welcome to my attempt at a drabble(ish) fic. Have you stopped laughing yet? . . . How about now? I'm aiming for chapters of 1K or below (but some have already gone over) and to post weekly on Saturdays. I'm not sure where this one came from, but it's going to be angsty and triggery at times (I mean, have you read the title?). This is me, so guaranteed to be HEA . . . eventually. So far all EPOV, but at some point there will be BPOV and possibly others.

~*oOo*~

Chapter One

~Where You Hanging?~

~*Edward*~

The sound of the tattoo gun lulls me into the zone. Inking brings me a sense of peace I don't feel anywhere else. I change colors, shading a large section of the design, and wipe away the excess ink with a soft cloth. Once I finish this section, I turn off the gun. The vibrating sensation continues, a buzz I sometimes feel at random times—the middle of the night or when I'm having sex—an extension of me.

"Okay, sweetheart, that's it for today."

"I can keep going."

Maybe so, but my instincts say we're done. "I'll catch you in a few days, Dina. See Seth on the way out for aftercare instructions and your next appointment."

Dina stands and stretches, her cropped shirt lifting to show a tanned strip of flat midriff. She fluffs her long, cotton-candy hair and fixes me with a meaningful look. "I'll be over at Denali's Tavern . . . if you want to stop by for a drink."

"I can't, but thanks for the invite."

Don't get me wrong, Dina is pretty, in a high-maintenance kind of way, but that's not how I roll. Can't say I've never sampled the clientele, but I endeavor not to mix business with pleasure. Jilted women are fucking vindictive.

She leaves my station and heads toward the desk out front, swinging her hips for all she's worth. Smiling to myself, I sanitize everything and set up for my next client.

At the end of the evening, some of us head up to the roof to unwind. We have a sweet setup: a sitting area with comfortable furniture, soft lighting, outdoor heaters, and a small bar with a mini fridge. I sit on the couch with my feet propped on the scarred coffee table. Emmett hands me a beer, then plops his sizable bulk at the other end of the couch.

A joint appears from his pocket. "Come to papa." He lights it, taking a deep pull.

I lean over and punch him in the arm. "Sharing is caring."

Emmett laughs, taking another puff before handing it over. Seth sits on the edge of the coffee table, looking hopeful.

I wave a hand at him. "Nah, man! Already told you, I don't corrupt minors."

"But—" Seth's gaze bounces to Emmett, then back to me. Subtle but telling.

"Em, tell me you didn't."

Emmett looks me straight in the eye and lies. "I didn't."

"Good. Don't."

Jasper saunters over, running a hand through his long, sunbleached waves, and plops into a giant beanbag chair. He has the most chill vibe I've ever experienced, which makes it super odd that he and my sister make such an epic couple. Alice is a petite, whirling dervish whose mouth runs a hundred miles an hour—sometimes even when she's asleep.

"Where's Ali?" I ask, taking a drag from the joint.

"Got held up at the hospital, but she'll be here."

Emmett's eyes light up. "Yo, tell her to bring pizza!"

Jasper side-eyes him as if he's an out of control toddler—not too far from the truth. "Dude, she just worked a double. There's this thing called a smartphone—use it to order up some delivery."

"Don't mind if I do! What does everybody want?"

While the conversation goes on around me, I rub my tired eyes and let them drift closed, relaxing fully. For the first time since I opened Inkspiration, my finances are in a good place.

I recently reconnected with a college buddy, who became a silent partner. James Hunter came from money and was always looking for investments. He went to college because his father told him he needed a business degree so he could make sound decisions before he would be allowed to play with the family money. I, on the other hand, obtained the same degree so I could navigate the wonderful world of business ownership and all its pitfalls.

Running a successful business isn't easy. Fresh out of college, I was full of myself and eager to lay down some roots. I had a group of artistic people, a great location, and lofty dreams. Inkspiration made money, just not enough. The bills started to pile up, and making payroll was a crapshoot. My apartment became an overcrowded bachelor pad for guys who couldn't afford a place of their own but no longer wanted to live with mommy. At one point, I didn't even know half the people crashing there. As long as the rent was covered, I let it ride. I spent many a night sleeping on this very roof to avoid my crowded apartment.

My mouthy sister had a lot to say about it. In a nutshell, she told me to put my big boy pants on and find an investor. I had all the elements needed to succeed, but in order to compete with The Vault, I needed to go bigger.

The Vault was a huge place on the main drag, offering ink at a discount. They were able to do this by hiring a bunch of young drones willing to ink any prefab design on anyone in the hopes they could reach the upper level or "vault." That was where the real magic happened. Aro Volturi had a small army of only the best tattoo artists. In order to get his attention, you had to be at the top of your craft. Everyone who worked on the upper level was required to ink their own unique designs and license them to The Vault. These unique tattoos came with a premium price tag. Vault artists could also be commissioned to create one-of-a-kind designs that would be "locked in the vault" and never reused for anyone else—as long as the yearly licensing fees were paid.

Aro's business model was a sound one. The drones whipped out tattoos like an assembly line, making it affordable for anyone and lucrative for Aro. Over many years, he cultivated his talent and reputation until he could command top dollar for his exclusive ink.

When Jimmy rolled into town with his bulging wallet, looking for an investment, I jumped in with both feet. I gave him a tour of Inkspiration and presented my plan for expansion. In the spirit of full disclosure, I told him about The Vault. Jimmy wrinkled his nose and said he was looking for authentic, not big-box.

We drew up an agreement, bought the building, and expanded the number of stations, updating the existing space. I poached Rosalie Hale, the piercing queen, from The Vault. She came at a price, but her clientele followed her, which also boosted my tattoo sales.

Something tickles my nose, and I swipe a hand across it. The feeling comes again, and I open my eyes. There are two straws, one sticking out of each nostril, and Emmett is snapping pics on his phone.

I yank them out and glare at him. "Grow up!"

"You did the same thing to me last week!"

"Did not!" A lie.

The group of us have a habit of pranking each other. I'm just pissed he caught me drifting off, and everyone's eyes are on me. That shit makes me uncomfortable.

There's a soft giggle off to my right. Alice is sitting sideways on Jasper's lap, with her arms slung around his neck, whispering in his ear. He smiles, rubbing her back with one hand.

Jealousy pierces me like an arrow. The two of them are so intimate, so perfect for each other. I've had lots of tail, but nothing long-term like they have—someone to share all hopes and dreams with, an equal partner that always has your back.

While I was snoozing, the moon had risen high in the night sky. Pizza boxes and beer bottles litter the coffee table.

Rosalie Hale is behind the bar mixing a drink, chatting with Seth. Emmett stares at her with longing.

I pitch my voice low. "Em, is that a good idea?"

He glances at me for a moment before his eyes are drawn back to her. "She's the most beautiful creature I've ever seen. If there's any chance she will have me—hell yeah, it's a great fucking idea."

Rose, sensing she's being watched, glances up and catches my eye, smiling with a little wave of her hand. I nod in return. I don't want to burst Emmett's bubble—he's been my best friend since fourth grade—but Rosalie Hale wants to ride me. And she's undeniably beautiful with her flaxen locks and curvy figure, but she does nothing for me. If I thought about giving her a tumble for the hell of it, the thought dies right here. I will not hurt Emmett like that even if he has little chance of snagging her.

My phone pings, and I pull it out of my pocket. It's a text from Jimmy.

I'm in town! Have awesome news. Where you hanging?

~*oOo*~

A/N: Thanks for joining me. Huge thanks to my awesome betas, SassySue (chayasara) and Wendy (wmr1601), for wielding the sparkly reds and fixing my flaws. Wendy made the banner for this story. You must check it out!

New chapters of Princess and Freddie will be out any day.

Animal was featured on the TLS Sneak Peek on September 24th. Hop on over there if you want to read a teaser from future chapters. And I must thank the ladies at TLS for featuring many of my stories in their What We're Reading feature! Mwah!