Never go to a tattoo artist if bad luck is following you

Never go to a tattoo artist if bad luck is following you

By:  -hunter-of-stories-  Updated just now
Language: English
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Brianna Lester, with her unusually platinum blonde hair and grayish-blue eyes, is impossible to miss wherever she goes. Her bubbly personality, hyperactivity, innate talent for tripping even while standing still, and her knack for always causing trouble ensure that she immediately catches the attention of the coolest tattoo artist around. Unfortunately, it's not her rather unique appearance that gets noticed, but her clumsiness. The moment she closes the door of the tattoo shop, one of the pictures hanging on the wall-the owner's favorite, and quite valuable-unexpectedly falls down. To make up for the damage, she ends up working at the shop until she can pay off the cost of the picture. It would all be pretty easy if a sexy tattoo artist didn't enjoy teasing her about her bad luck. By now, Brianna has resigned herself to the idea that her life is stuck in the "never a joy" zone, and her birthday is proof of that. Who can be considered lucky if they were born on a day that only comes once every four years? No one. Some people are kissed by fortune at birth, while others are kissed by bad luck. Brianna definitely falls into the latter category.

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24 Chapters

01 | I hate art and art hates me.

I swing open the wooden door leading to the kitchen, grab one of the chairs around the table, and turn it to sit astride it. I look up to meet my parents' gaze, which was already fixed on me. "I need money," I start.My father raises an eyebrow. "How much?"I look at him. This is the moment he's going to kill me. "A little money..." I take a moment while he waits for my answer. "Something like a hundred or two hundred-"My father interrupts immediately with, "I'm broke." He returns to reading the newspaper he had left on the table during my entrance.My mother hasn't said a word yet. She continues to stare at me, and I must admit it's becoming unsettling. "Did you get yourself into trouble with some drug dealer and owe them money?" she asks.I roll my eyes. "No, but-"Before I can finish, she interrupts me. "Are you in trouble in general?""No m-" I'm interrupted again."Are you risking your life if we don't give you this money?" she continues.Oh God, this conversation will never end
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02 | Escaping to Messico wasn't an option.

Before heading home, I stopped at the small supermarket a couple of blocks from my house.As soon as I walked in, the air conditioning hit me like a blast of cold air from the North Pole.I get it—summer, heat, and all that—but turning a supermarket into a freezer in mid-June seems a bit excessive, doesn't it? What are they going to do in August? Try to freeze themselves to escape "heat depression"?I didn't even grab a cart since I only needed one thing: ice cream. My parents love ice cream.I ponder which flavors to get. My dad's favorite is cookie, while my mom's is mint. I grab one tub of each flavor, and while I'm at it, I also pick up my favorite—coconut. I head to the checkout, pay, and ask for one of those insulated bags to keep the ice cream from turning into a milkshake on the way home.I return home, open the door, and close it behind me, placing the keys on the table next to the door.No sign of my parents.I take the ice cream tubs to the kitchen and put them in the freez
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03 | How do you know I'm crazy?

A deafening sound interrupts my beautiful dream. It takes me a moment to realize that the sound is coming from that infernal contraption more commonly known as an alarm clock.I want to throw it against the wall, but my mother would do the same to me, and that idea doesn't thrill me at all.I turn off the alarm and roll over, hoping to fall back asleep. Then I remember what day it is.Shit, today is Monday. It's my first day at work.I jump out of bed and grab some clothes at random from the chair, which has become my new wardrobe.I just hope the shirt isn't dirty.I dash down the stairs and head to the kitchen to grab something to eat. I see my mom already sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in her hands."Why didn't you wake me up earlier knowing I start work today?" I ask her.She looks at me and raises an eyebrow perfectly drawn with an eyebrow pencil.It's my mom, and she does her makeup better than I do, damn it."You said you were becoming responsible, Brianna. So it's a
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04 | Will I ever have any joy?

The ringtone of my phone interrupts the silence of my room. I look at the screen and see that it's Carly, my best friend.I swipe the green icon to answer the call.I don't even get a chance to say "hello" before she starts talking."Tonight you and I are going dancing. I want to see you in a dress and heels. We'll get ready at my place and then walk to the Hunter so we can drink since we won't need to drive. No arguments. I'll pick you up at nine," and she hangs up.I couldn't have found a stranger best friend.I put the phone back where it was before, that is, thrown somewhere on my bed. As far as my first day went, it wasn't too bad, aside from James and the fact that I wasn't even looking for a job. I'm tempted to prepare some fake medical documents stating my insanity or that I have an extremely contagious and deadly disease, then bring them to work and leave them sticking out of my bag and wait for James to read them. Just to pass the time and get some revenge. Yesterday, he gav
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05 | Cursing and betrayal.

Today is my second day of work, a job I've been looking forward to.After last night's "incident" with the heels, Carly and I ended up heading home because of the storm that rolled in. Nothing new, just my bad luck reminding me who runs my life. Convincing her to postpone our night of drinking until we mistook street lamps for celebrities, taking selfies with them, and posting them all over our social media with the caption "OMG, I finally met a star, so excited!"—only to be mocked for eternity—was a challenge.Basically, it was going to be a fantastic evening.We spent the rest of the night watching Pretty Little Liars and gaining at least ten pounds from all the junk food we devoured together.I grab one of my completed sketchbooks and put it in my bag. I don't have a preferred subject or style; my sketchbooks contain drawings of animals, landscapes, portraits of people, abstract subjects, plants. Watercolors, charcoal, and pencils alternate. Everything that inspires me ends up in o
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06 | It's better if I open the door myself.

Once we leave the store, James heads towards a parking lot, and I follow him, unsure of which ice cream shop we're going to.Each passing day is getting hotter, like a hellish inferno. Like after a couple of hours under the sun, you might catch fire, so people can gather around you with sticks and roast marshmallows.Yes, because of course, people roast marshmallows on people who are on fire.When we reach the parking lot, James confidently approaches a black car. He opens it and gets in, inviting me to do the same.As soon as I get in, I reach for the radio, but he slaps my hand away and gives me a stern look."I don't mean to be rude, but don't touch my baby."I look at him, bewildered. I try to reach for the radio again, but he slaps my hand once more.I whip my head around to face James. "If I can't touch your radio, can you at least put on some music yourself?" I grumble.He glances at me briefly, then returns his focus to the road. He takes his right hand off the steering wheel
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07 | Tell me something about yourself.

"Cookie and coconut.""I don't like coconut. Choose another flavor," James tells me."Who's eating the ice cream?" I reply."But I have to taste it.""I don't like the cream flavor you chose, yet I'm not complaining. It looks like I'll just eat the other flavor. Would you change one of your flavors just because I don't like it?""No.""There you go.""Why coconut, though?""Because it's my favorite flavor.""Terrible flavors."
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08 | I'm pregnant!

The first week of work has finally passed, and the weekend is here, which means I can finally sleep in.They call it vacation, but then they load you with a ton of work, you have to work because you're unlucky, you risk losing a lung after ten meters of walking due to the heat, and you dream of the sea because your parents prefer the mountains. And anyway, I'd stay whiter than a mozzarella. Long live albinism.When I wake up, I notice it's only ten in the morning. Too early by my standards, but I was woken up by some screams, which I hope are my mom's, because if they were my dad's, they'd have had to lock his balls in a drawer to scream like that, and I hope for his sake that's not the case.I get out of bed and put on my panda slippers, which look a bit like those gian
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09 | Porque mi cintura!

If there's one thing I love about Sunday lunch, it's my mom's lasagna. Every Sunday, like a damn tradition.Sure, it's delicious, and she cooks well, but after eating it every week, you eventually can't even look at it without losing your appetite.My mom seems to get high on cocaine and hallucinogens every Sunday.She has this obsession with inviting different relatives for lunch each time, and because of this, she's incredibly hyper. Today, she's even more so because she decided to invite all her siblings and my dad's siblings, and all four grandparents, to announce the news of the upcoming baby.Some lunches only happen at Christmas and Easter, and we're such a dysfunctional family that they usually end in disast
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10 | AAA looking for.

Within half an hour, things have gotten out of hand; we're all drunk except for my mom.The grandparents, to celebrate, gave alcohol to Jace and me. He's only slightly tipsy, while I'm completely gone after having a drinking contest with Grandpa Carl with beer and champagne shots.I have no idea what song is playing right now; I don't recognize it, but it's quite lively. Our living room looks like a freaking nightclub, and I've brought out my panda-shaped Bluetooth speakers to blast the music even louder.Grandma Maria approaches me. "Brianna, shall we do that nice butt move you young girls do?""You mean twerking?""Yes, exactly! We'll attract some nice guys!"
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