#blackmassacre

She finished helping the customer fill out their order, and after sending him on his way she went to go help Paul in the greenhouse. She pulled on her gardening gloves and went over to the zinnias. “How’s everything looking?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Good so far.” Paul was silent for a moment, then sighed. “Is it bad I keep thinking about earlier?”

Heather turned in his direction. “Why?”

“Just… How do you handle a situation like that? Someone refusing to leave you alone? Without hurting their feelings?”

Heather frowned at him. “Well, for one thing, don’t care about their feelings. They’re the one harassing you. Second, just stay away from the tattoo parlor.”

“How can I do that when they’re right across the street from us?” Paul deadpanned.

“Just avoid them whenever possible. You’ve seen everyone who works there, and how they act. All those guys are nothing but trouble.” Heather calmed down from her small tirade and smiled reassuringly at him. “We could call their manager and complain about Sixx harassing you.”

Paul brightened. “That would work, probably. Just call him and let him take care of it.”

“Yeah, exactly,”

Heather would later wonder if some divine power had heard her comment on how all the artists at Motley Crue Tattoos were nothing but trouble, because at that moment they heard the bells above the door ring.

“I’ll get it,” Heather wiped her gloves on her jeans. “You prune the dahlias.”

“But you do such a better job on the dahlias than me,” Paul grinned at her. “They’re your pride and joy.”

Heather grinned back. “I think you’re finally ready for the responsibility of pruning them. Do not prove me wrong, Paul Stanley.”

“I shall not fail you!”

Laughing, Heather opened the door to enter the shop floor. She caught sight of a man looking over the flower pots, looking like he was trying to blend in with the surroundings. It was a bit difficult for him, though, since he was clad in all black, with a black leather jacket and black boots, as well as sunglasses. He looked about as invisible as a drop of black ink on a sheet of paper. There was also a sketchbook tucked under one arm. He looked rather familiar, but Heather wasn’t sure where she had seen him before. She still put on a smile and headed towards him. “Hi there. Welcome to the Dahlia Shoppe. I’m Heather, how can I help you?”

The man looked at her for a second. What was he doing? He finally said, “I was wondering if I could go back into your greenhouse.”

Heather blinked at him. “Why would you want to do that?”

“I’m, uh… an artist. I take commissions. And a lot of people request flowers. And I knew you grew good flowers here, so…” The man shoved his hands into his pockets. “Wouldn’t be bothering anyone. And I wouldn’t touch any of the flowers. Just thought I’d ask if I could come by and practice drawing ‘em sometime.”

Heather thought for a moment. Then she shrugged. “I guess it wouldn’t be a problem. Come on, I’ll show you the greenhouse.” As they were walking over to the door, she asked, “By the way, what’s your name? Just so I know who you are if you stop by again.”

“Mick Mars,”

“Heather McMann. Nice to meet you, Mick Mars.”

She wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw the corner of his mouth lift up in a smile. She opened the door and showed him inside. “There you go. Just go tell Paul,” she pointed over to where Paul was meticulously pruning a dahlia plant, “I said it’s okay for you to be back here, and he’ll leave you alone.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

“Sure. Let me know when you’re leaving.”

Heather closed the door behind him and went to go straighten up the racks of seed packets. Customers were always rifling through them and putting the packets back out of order. But she hadn’t even been doing her task for five minutes when the door opened and she looked up to find Paul hurrying onto the shop floor.

“Heather,” he said quickly. “That guy you said could sketch the flowers in the greenhouse…”

“Yeah, what about him?”

“He’s the manager of the tattoo parlor!”

Heather froze. “What? Really?”

Paul nodded. “Yeah, I’ve seen him closing up before. I think he owns the place.”

“Oh…” Heather set down the seed packets she was holding. “Stay here. I’m going to go tell him right now.”

“But I thought we were going to call him!”

“Paul, the manager of the tattoo parlor where the guy who’s been harassing you works at literally just walked into the shop. On the same day. When’s this going to happen again? I’m going to go tell him right now.”

“But I don’t know if you—” Paul began, but Heather was already striding briskly to the door of the greenhouse. “—should,” he finished, and sighed.

Heather shoved open the door and stalked over to Mick, who had his sketchbook out and was in the middle of starting a sketch of the daisies. “Hey,” she demanded, making him look up. “Are you the manager of Motley Crue Tattoos?”

Mick looked taken aback by the question, but nodded. “I own the place, actually,”

“Yeah, okay. Tell your tattoo artists to stop harassing me and my friend.”

Mick frowned. “I didn’t know they were…”

Heather crossed her arms. “We are directly across the street from each other, and you just happen to not notice your one worker, Sixx, harassing Paul in broad daylight for three days in a row? If he does it again, I will call the cops on him. Tell him to stay the fuck away from my store, and from Paul, or I’ll have the cops do it.”

To her surprise, Mick got an annoyed look on his face. Then he sighed frustratedly. “Fuckin’ teenager went and fucked up again,” he grumbled, then he looked up at her. “I’m sorry about him, and I’m sorry he did that. I’ll talk to him about it.”

Heather frowned. “You’ll talk to him? Forgive me, but that sounds too much like a simple slap on the wrist to me.”

“Then how about this: I’ll talk to him today, and tomorrow morning when you open I’ll drag his ass over here so he can apologize. Trust me, I know how to get through to that kid.”

Heather clenched her jaw. “What happens if I don’t accept his apology?”

Mick sighed. “You’ve got every right to not accept his apology. I’ll suspend him from work. I mean, I was already going to, but I didn’t tell you that.”

For a moment, Heather was taken aback. She had been expecting him to argue with her, even say some crap like “oh he’d never do that”. But no, he wasn’t. He actually believed her. From how he was acting, it didn’t seem like this was the first time Sixx had gotten into trouble. And he seemed genuinely sorry…

“I… I guess that’s fair,” Heather finally sighed. “You’ve got a deal. Suspend him from work, and drag him over here to apologize to Paul, and I won’t call the cops on him.” She let Mick relax for a second before continuing. “But… if he ever does it again, I will file a harassment complaint.”

Mick nodded and held his hand out to her. “Deal,”

After a moment, Heather reached out to shake his hand. “Okay then. I’ll, uh, I’ll leave you to keep sketching.”

She turned and walked away to exit the greenhouse. Paul was still waiting by the seed racks, drumming his fingers against his leg anxiously. “So what happened?”

“I talked to him, and he said he was going to talk to the guy and make him apologize to you.”

Paul blinked. “Really?”

Heather smiled. “Yeah, really. He was really understanding about it.”

“I can believe it. He was real polite when he came over to ask where the best flowers to sketch were.”

“He was? That was nice of him.”

Paul grinned at her. “But I thought you said tattoo artists were nothing but trouble,”

“They are… but this guy’s not. There can be exceptions.”

“Or maybe he likes you,”

Heather gaped at him and smacked him on the shoulder, laughing. “Shut up, he does not!”

Little did she know, Mick couldn’t help but overhear their conversation, and flinched a bit at Paul’s teasing words. Shit… was it obvious? So maybe he had just a little tiny thing for the blonde owner of the Dahlia Shoppe. That didn’t mean anything, or that it would go anywhere. Besides, Heather was probably out of his league anyway.

Mick shrugged and dropped his bag on the floor. “Guess one of us will have to sleep on the couch.”

“I call a bed to myself,” Vince said quickly, dashing to one bed and throwing himself down on it. Heather could tell Mick was rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses. Vince grinned at Heather jokingly. “Unless you wanna join me, McMann?”

Heather smiled mockingly back. “Not if you were the last man in the universe,”

Vince fake gasped and pouted at her. “Ya rude bitch,”

“Thank you,”

Mick visibly rolled his eyes and said to Heather, “You can sleep on the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“No, I couldn’t do that,” Heather immediately said. “You take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Called the couch first.” As if to back his point, Mick started to head for the couch. Heather immediately dove for the couch herself, resulting in the two of them locked in a minor scuffle. Finally, both of them perhaps realizing it wasn’t getting them anywhere, they stopped and pulled away from each other.

“Okay,” Heather sighed, resigning herself to the alternative. “If neither of us want the other to sleep on the couch… then we’re both going to have to sleep in the bed.”

Mick looked a little apprehensive. “You sure you’re okay with that?”

“If it means getting a good nights’ sleep, I’ll do it.” She hadn’t been sleeping very well the past couple of days, perhaps because she had been on a tour bus. Her mind shoved back the possibility of it being because of night terrors.

“Can you guys please figure it out already?” Vince called from his bed.

After a moment, Mick sighed. “Fine. I guess we’re sleeping in the same bed.”

“Oooh, should be fun. Remember to use protection, Mickey.”

Heather snorted, but Mick glared at Vince. “Shut the fuck up, Anarchy,”

-BLACKDAHLIA-

Later that night, Mick lay awake in bed, unable to sleep. He could hear Vince’s quiet snoring from across the dark room, and could feel Heather’s presence beside him. He looked down at her, and was able to see her face through his darkness-adjusted eyes.

She’d turned onto her side facing him and had her arms folded up against the pillow. She also had her legs tucked in; he knew because her knees were poking his legs. Her face could have come across as tranquil in sleep, except that there was a frown on her face and a crease in her forehead. It was like she couldn’t find any peace even in her sleep.

Mick stared at her for a bit, until he thought it was getting a little too creepy and turned his eyes back to the ceiling. He was definitely sure Heather was hiding something from them. She had agreed a little too quickly to join them on their tour, at least for his liking. Vince, Tommy and Nikki had accepted her, even managing to get her on as one of their backup singers. She was singing with them, drinking with them, laughing and smiling with them… but somehow she still didn’t seem happy.

Heather suddenly shifted and let out a noise. It sounded strangely like a whimper, but Mick couldn’t be sure. It could have been just her mumbling in her sleep; Tommy did that way too often. He wondered what she was dreaming out.

… Okay, now he was getting too creepy.

Sighing, Mick rolled over onto his side, facing away from Heather, and closed his eyes to try and fall asleep. He was mature enough to admit he cared about Heather… but only as a friend would. Besides, she cared about him like a concerned friend would; why not return the favor and do the same?

-BLACKDAHLIA-

“Holy shit!”

Heather was rudely pulled out of sleep by the sound of Vince’s shouting voice. She groaned and opened her eyes… and found her face pressed up against a back. Mick’s back. She rolled over and gave Vince the stink eye. “Was that worth waking me up, Anarchy?” she asked groggily.

“Uh, fuck yeah it was!” Vince exclaimed, grinning broadly. “This is fuckin’ hilarious.”

“What’s fuckin’ hilarious?” Mick grumbled, sitting up.

“Nothing—” Heather started, but Vince interrupted.

“Heather was totally spooning you, man!”

Mick’s face showed no emotion. Instead he blinked at the lead singer. “… No, she wasn’t,”

Vince looked like this was the best thing that had ever happened to him. “Yeah, she was! Didn’t know you liked to have chicks spooning ya, Mickey!”

“I don’t,” Mick grumbled, throwing back the covers to get up.

“Aw, that any way to treat Heather?” Vince started laughing.

“Shut the fuck up, Anarchy,” Mick stood up and made a beeline for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Heather sighed and threw back the blanket to sit on the side of the bed. “Nothing happened, Vince,”

“Yeah, I know,” Vince laughed. “God forbid you guys ever do anything.”

She arched an eyebrow at him in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing! Oh shit, I am so gonna tell Nikki and Tommy.”

Heather stood up and pointed a finger at him. “Don’t you fucking dare, Anarchy. They’ll get the wrong idea, and they’ll never let me or Mick hear the end of it.”

Vince held up his hands placatingly. “Fine, fine. I was just jokin’ around, I swear.”

Nodding, Heather got out of bed and went to her bag. “Good,”

There was a beat of silence, then Vince glanced over at the bathroom and went over to stand next to Heather. “Just between the two of us… Do you think anything ever would happen between you two?”

Heather stopped and looked up at him. Then she scoffed and continued picking out her clothes. “No, I don’t think so,”

Frowning, Vince squatted down next to her. “Why not?”

“Because I’m not exactly relationship material right now,”

“What do you mean? You’re a great girl; what guy wouldn’t think you’re relationship material?”

“It’s not that, it’s just…” Heather sighed and wondered how she was going to phrase her answer. She couldn’t tell them the truth… not just yet. “I just separated from KISS not even a month ago, and now I’m touring with you guys. I’m trying to figure out what I’m going to do, and where I’m going to go. I don’t have the time to try and have a relationship with someone. Besides, Mick’s a nice guy, but I just can’t see myself having a relationship.” She looked at him pointedly. “And no, I’m not changing my opinion on this.”

“Okay, okay, I wasn’t gonna try,” Vince assured. He and Heather stood up, and he grinned as Heather went to go make the bed. “I mean, you can secretly spoon him in your sleep all you want, but I get what you’re saying.”