Going Inksane (Nice Ink Book 1)

by Trish Edmisten

I had to agree with X. Chris Isaak was not my thing. I guess his voice was okay, but I could not figure out the guy’s music. Was it rock? Blues? Country? Some weird hybrid? Whatever it was, it was not good.

  My tastes ran more along the lines of Eric Clapton and Phil Collins and Tom Petty. You know, the classic shit that could actually call itself music. At least that’s what I played when it was my day to pick the music in the shop.

  My guilty pleasure was a little more modern. Guys like Charlie Puth and Ed Sheeran and Bruno Mars. Though, to be fair, who didn’t like Bruno Mars? That guy could sing, and he was one hell of a performer. His Super Bowl half time show was insane. Way better than the one Timberlake did a few years later.

  He was cute too. Just the kind of guy I would love to tuck against my chest.

  Again, I could not admit my love of pop music to these guys and not because I cared what they thought about me. The level of shit they would give me would know no bounds. Something I knew for a fact because we all gave Damian a blast of shit every time his day rolled around.

  You would never know it to look at him, but he was a country fan and not the old stuff. Damian was a huge fan of what I guess you could call country rock. You know, guys like Luke Bryan and Cole Swindell whose names I only knew thanks to Damian subjecting us to listening to them once a week.

  Flynn was more of a modern rock guy. On his day, we were treated to Fozzy, Judas, Lydia and the like. Not my favorite but way more tolerable than Chris Isaak.

  I hated to say it, but we were going to be listening to this fucker all day. For some reason, Cooper owned every one of the guy’s CDs. I didn’t even know Chris Isaak had more than one CD. I figured he was a one hit wonder after Wicked Game, but I guess nobody bothered to tell him and Cooper that normal people were over him.

  X’s taste was the most surprising of all. The guy was a huge fan of old school rap and hip hop. Once a week, we listened to everything from Too Short and Ice Cube to the Beastie Boys and Run DMC.

  With five of us in the shop, each of us having a day for our music was the only way to keep it fair and keep us sane. Damian had come up with the idea and created the schedule. A schedule he kept posted for everyone to see so there was no bitching about whose day it was last.

  Damian sauntered over to my station. “Your four thirty is here.”

  Good timing. I was about done setting up my station for Derek’s tattoo.

  “Thanks, I’ll be right there,” I said, and Damian turned and headed back to the front.

  After finishing up what I was doing, I went up front to meet Derek. I couldn’t wait to do his tattoo, and I was looking forward to his reaction. I had no problem tooting my own horn and saying it was going to be bad ass when it was done.

  I was thrown for a moment when I spotted Derek. When he told me he would come by after work, I hadn’t considered he would show up in uniform. I didn’t have a uniform kink or anything, but I could admit the guy looked hot as fuck. If I ever got pulled over by a cop that looked like him, I would take the ticket with a big fucking smile on my face.

  Speaking of his uniform, I dropped my gaze to his waist. There was no gun, which was a good thing. I didn’t want the rest of the customers freaking out when a fully armed cop came strolling through the shop.

  Even though Ned said he wouldn’t be coming, I was still disappointed he hadn’t shown up. Derek wasn’t alone though. A young guy in glasses and skinny jeans stood beside him. He had a tight grip on the messenger bag slung over his shoulder, looking a little uncertain as he took in his surroundings.

  With his strong resemblance to Derek, I was sure this was another of his brothers. If I had to guess, this one was younger. He was shorter and slimmer. While Derek was sort of brooding and in your face, this guy was cute as fuck. Just the kind of guy X loved having on his dick. I smiled, already imagining his reaction to the little cutie.

  “Derek, good to see you again,” I said, making my presence known.

  Derek grinned. “You too, man. I can’t wait to see what you came up with.”

  “I think you’ll be pretty happy with it.”

  “Cool deal.”

  “Come on back, and we can get started.”

  “Is it okay if my brother joins us?” Derek asked, confirming my hunch about his relationship with the cutie.

  “You’ll have to introduce us first.”

  His brother’s answering blush was deeper and more immediate than the ones Ned had given me earlier in the week. If I wasn’t already thinking of how I could make a play for Ned, I would have been interested.

  “My name’s Oliver.”

  “I’m Heath. It’s nice to meet you.”

  When we shook hands, I noticed his sweaty palms but didn’t call him on it. I didn’t want to embarrass the guy or anything.

  “All right then, now that we’ve got that squared away, let’s head to the back.”

  I waited for both guys to walk to the end of the counter before I turned to lead them to my station. I grinned when I snuck a look over my shoulder. Oliver’s wide eyes were darting all over the place, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It would not surprise me to hear this was his first time in a tattoo shop.

  When we reached my station, I gestured for them to take a seat while I pulled out the sketch I had done.

  “What do you think of this?” I asked as I handed it to Derek.

  As soon as Derek accepted the offering both he and Oliver pored over the sketch, their dark heads bent together in this totally adorable way.

  “Damn,” Derek said on an exhale.

  The awe in his voice had me puffing up my chest.

  “It’s amazing,” Oliver said. “I’ll bet it looks great on you.”

  “You’re happy then?” I asked Derek, though I already knew the answer.

  Derek wore a big smile as he looked up at me. “This is exactly what I envisioned. Thank you.”

  “Thank me when we’re done,” I said, returning his smile as I held my hand out for the drawing.

  Derek seemed reluctant to hand it over, but he did.

  “If you want to go ahead and take your shirt off, I’ll get this on some transfer paper and then we can get the placement down.”

  Derek unbuttoned his uniform shirt and laid it over the back of his chair. There was a white wife beater under his dark uniform shirt, and though I didn’t need him to take it off, I certainly didn’t object when he did.

  A few minutes later, the machine had produced the transfer I would use to guide me in the completion of his tattoo.

  “Have a seat up here.” I gestured to my table.

  Once Derek had taken a seat, I grabbed a stick of clear deodorant and smoothed it over his tanned tricep.

  “Is that Speed Stick?” Oliver asked.

  “Yeah, it is. It gives the transfer something to stick to while I put the ink down.”

  “That’s fascinating.”

  “Really? Most people think it’s weird.”

  “It is, but it’s also interesting. Do you mind if I take some notes?”

  I frowned. “Um, okay.”

  “Oliver’s a writer,” Derek explained as I positioned the transfer on his tricep. “He never leaves home without his notebook.”

  “You never know when inspiration will strike or when I’ll need to take notes,” Oliver said.

  Yeah, I could see this guy as a writer, looking cute as hell as he hunched over his computer keyboard pounding out his latest best seller.

  “A writer, huh? Have you written anything I would have read?”

  “Uh…I don’t think so. I, um, don’t use my real name.”

  “Don’t want fans to know who you are?”

  “No, I don’t. It’s safer that way.”

  I wondered if that meant he’d had a problem with an overzealous reader in the past. I hoped not. I could respect that though. No one was going to Google the name Heath Mitchell and read that he was a porn actor.

  I turned my attention back to Derek. “
Go ahead and check the placement in the mirror, and don’t worry if you don’t like it. We can take it off and put it back on as many times as we need to get it right.”

  Better to do it that way than put it in the wrong place. Once it was on, it wasn’t going anywhere without a ton of laser treatments.

  Derek hopped off the table and walked to the mirror. From the way his eyes lit up when he looked at it, I knew he was happy with where I put it. Still, I had to ask.

  “Is that okay?”

  “It’s perfect.”

  “Are you sure? We can move it if we need to.”

  “No need. It looks good where it is.”

  “All right then. Take a seat and let’s do this thing.”

  “How long will it take?” Oliver asked as Derek resumed his seat on the table.

  “A tattoo this size will probably take a couple of hours.”

  “Does that change how much you charge?”

  “No, I don’t charge by the hour. I charge by the piece.”

  “Do all tattooists follow that philosophy?”

  “It depends on the artist, but all of us in this shop charge by the piece,” I answered with a smile.

  Despite how shy Oliver seemed, his curiosity was enough that he had the guts to press forward and ask his questions. I didn’t know what kind of books he wrote, but it would be a kick to know he had written a character based on me.

  “Will it hurt?”

  “That depends on your brother’s tolerance for pain.”

  “Oh,” Oliver said, giving his brother a sly grin. “You might be in some trouble then, Ricky.”

  “Bite me, Ollie,” Derek retorted, and I didn’t bother to hide my grin.

  Oliver blanched. “Eew, no thank you.”

  Picking up the tattoo gun, I dipped it into the ink. As usual, I let it hover over the skin before I started the work.

  When I finally started, Derek didn’t register a reaction. Most likely because of the grief his brother had just given him. I knew all about being the older brother and making sure the little one knew who was in charge.

  “Is it okay if I ask you some questions while you work, or will that distract you?” Oliver asked.

  “I don’t mind,” I said.

  “Good, thank you. I just want to take some notes first.”

  Eyes on his notebook, Oliver began writing and I wondered what he was writing that put such a deep look of concentration on his face. Was he jotting down his thoughts on the shop? What he thought of me? Or was he just mapping out a new story?

  I could relate to his need to bring his notebook everywhere he went. He was right about never knowing when inspiration would strike. Anytime I went somewhere without a sketchbook, I was bummed if I saw something cool I wanted to draw. As many times as receipts and napkins had become a canvas, you would think I would learn to have a sketchbook with me at all times.

  With Oliver busy, I figured it was time to get to know Derek and find out the story about his tattoo. Since it was his badge going over the bullet scar on his arm, I had a pretty good idea, but I wanted the details. Oliver and I were similar in that respect, wanting to know what made people tick.

  “How long have you been a cop?”

  “I just passed the five year mark.”

  “You like it?”

  “I love it. I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

  “Do you see a lot of crazy shit?”

  Derek laughed. “Not as much as people think. Most of the time it’s pretty quiet, but it’s still the coolest job in the world. I know it sounds cheesy as shit, but I like helping out the community.”

  “That’s better than hating your job and only doing it for the donuts,” I pointed out, and Derek laughed again.

  “What about you? How long have you been a tattoo artist?”

  “Almost twelve years.”

  “Damn, that’s a long time. I guess you’ve never done anything else?”

  “Not really.”

  There was no way I was admitting to the porn. Being that he was gay, Derek would probably go searching for my movies, which were still available. And no, I did not have to check to know that. Even without the quarterly royalty checks, I had known those movies would be available as long as the company was in business. It was one of the reasons I had gotten such an inflated bonus each time I signed a contract for a new set of movies.

  Every once in a while I considered seeing what I could do to get my movies pulled from circulation, but I knew it would take more money than I was willing to turn loose. Since I had yet to be recognized from my porn days, I figured it was best to let sleeping dogs lie.

  “I’ll bet you’ve seen some crazy shit too,” Derek said.

  “Yeah, I have.”

  “What’s the weirdest tattoo you’ve ever done?”

  “I guess it depends on your definition of weird. I did a face on the back of a guy’s bald head once so he could look like that guy in the first Harry Potter movie.”

  “You like Harry Potter movies?” Oliver spoke up.

  “Sure I do, cutie,” I said and then winked at him when he blushed.

  “What about the grossest tattoo?” Derek asked.

  “Some chick had me tattoo her boyfriend’s dick on her inner thigh. She gave me a picture of his erect dick to base my sketch on.”

  “No shit?”

  “Nope, I’m serious. I like dick so that part was okay, but being that close to her crotch when I did the ink was gross, especially since she wasn’t wearing any underwear and I could see her hairy bush.”

  “Damn, that is gross. Why the hell wasn’t she waxed or at least shaved?”

  “I have no idea. I didn’t ask, but it was the fastest tattoo I ever did.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  “Tell me about this one,” I suggested. “I’m assuming you were shot on the job.”

  “Yeah, it was supposed to be a routine traffic stop. I’ve lost count of how many stops I’ve done. You never get complacent, but when you go five years with nothing happening, you sure as shit don’t expect it.”

  “So, what happened?”

  “I walked up to the car and asked the driver for his license and registration and proof of insurance. Dude handed the stuff over, but he looked kind of shifty.”

  “Don’t most people look that way?”

  “Not really. Sure, most people are nervous when they’re dealing with cops, but they don’t look like they have something to hide.”

  “How did you know he had something to hide?”

  “I didn’t, but after you’ve been doing this job for a while, you develop pretty good instincts for people,” Derek answered. “Anyway, I asked him to stay put while I ran his license. No surprise the guy was a felon with a metric fuck ton of warrants. I was about to get out of my car to deliver the good news when he jumped out of his car and took off running.”

  “Why didn’t he just drive off?”

  “I can only assume he was auditioning for an episode of World’s Dumbest,” Derek said, and I laughed. “So, I give chase and I’m yelling at the guy to stop or I will tase his ass when he turns and I see the flash of silver and realize I’m about to get shot. I don’t remember doing it, but I guess I turned away because the shot hit me in the shoulder instead of the damn bullet proof vest.”

  “Better than hitting your head,” Oliver said, sounding pained.

  When I looked over at him, he had stopped writing and was rubbing his left arm as though he could feel his brother’s pain.

  “Did they catch the guy?” I asked.

  “You know it.” Derek grinned. “You don’t fuck with the cops and get away with it. The guy was caught within an hour and I’m happy to say he will not see the outside of his prison cell in this lifetime and hopefully the next.”

  Hearing shit like that made me glad to be a tattoo artist. I had no interest in a job that required me to be shot at. I would stick to being visually assaulted by chicks with hairy bushes.

  “S
o, you’re a cop and Oliver’s a writer,” I said. “What about Ned?”

  Derek grinned at my less than subtle question, but I took that as a good sign. At least the dude wasn’t telling me to back off; yet.

  “He’s an emergency room nurse.”

  “That’s impressive.”

  And not surprising. I knew there was a reason I was drawn to him. Time to do some serious recon.

  “How long has he been a nurse?”

  “I’ll tell you, but it’s gonna cost you.”

  For a second, I wondered if he was angling for a discount on his tattoo. Which I would have been happy to give him if he gave me some more intel on Ned, starting with his phone number and maybe his home address.

  “Tell me about the big guy with the buzz cut.”

  Derek was interested in Flynn? I did not see that coming, but I felt it was only fair to warn him.

  “I’ve known him about four years, and in all that time, I’ve never seen him in a relationship.”

  “But he is gay?”

  “That’s what he says.”

  “Any idea why he’s never been serious about anyone?”

  “No, he’s never said.”

  And I have never asked. I figured if Flynn wanted me to know his business, he would share it with me.

  “You know him pretty well,” Derek said. “You think I have a chance, or is he more likely to run the opposite direction?”

  “I honestly don’t know. I guess it depends on what you want from him.”

  Derek looked over at Flynn who was engrossed in tattooing some chick. As usual, the woman was looking at him like she was starving and he was a five course meal.

  “I’ll have to think about how I want to do this,” Derek decided. “Something tells me it wouldn’t be a good idea to just charge in and try to take what I want.”

  It didn’t surprise me that Derek would take that strategy. The man was a cop for a reason.

  “Before I tell you anything about Ned, I need to know if you’re planning on fucking and running or if you actually want something serious.”

  I wasn’t expecting that question, but I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me. If some guy was trying to pump me for information on Cooper, I would have wanted to know what his deal was before turning him loose on my brother.