“Apollo, Thor, Mariposa, Duke, Odin, Zoe, Athena…”
Later that morning at work, Caleb asks Liz, the Acquisitions Editor, where she gets her tattoos, which are the most beautiful he’s ever seen. He spends his lunch break perusing the artist portfolios on the Triskele Tattoo website, becoming increasingly impressed with each photo. The website says that they do consultations on a walk-in basis, but all of their artists are typically booked at least three months out. This dampens Caleb’s enthusiasm a bit at that – having made the decision to get the Wolf tattoo, he wants it now, patience never having been on of his virtues. Liz assures him that the long wait for an appointment is a good thing – the sign of a truly good artist, she says – and Caleb can’t help but agree. He’d rather wait and get the tattoo he wants and that will do justice to the Wolf rather than give in to his impatience and get something he won’t be happy with. Still excited but resigned to the wait, he decides to get the ball rolling as soon as possible and go in for a consultation as soon as he’s done with work for the day.
Fortunately, it’s Friday and his boss has a soul, so at two she tells everyone to clear out and have a good weekend. Caleb high fives Liz and books it out the door, the drawing burning a hole in his bag. He’s got just enough time to grab a latte before hopping on the bus to Cap Hill, which is painstakingly slow under the best of circumstances; Friday afternoon traffic with construction on Westlake and Caleb’s impatience make it an unbearably long and tedious ride. He ends up getting off the bus two stops before he needs to, just to feel like he’s doing something other than wasting his life in traffic. It means walking uphill for a few blocks, but he’s happy to be moving towards his goal.
Triskele Tattoo is a small storefront wedged between a record store and an indie coffee shop. The door is made of shining black glass with the tri-spiral logo and the shop name in red lettering. The place is brightly lit, the entrance and waiting area furnished with low backed black leather couches and a coffee table spread with leather-bound portfolios. Caleb had expected the walls to be lined with tattoo samples like he’d seen in the tattoo shops he’d tagged along with Leo over the years, but instead these walls are adorned with several huge, expensively framed photographs of northwest forests and the Pacific ocean. The music is loud, but not oppressively so, something surprisingly upbeat and pop-inflected that Caleb doesn’t recognize but that he likes.
A long wooden counter that looks to be an antique bar top that’s worn smooth with use divides the room horizontally, complete with a swing top at one end that’s flipped up on its hinges. Behind that, there’s a set of old-fashioned saloon doors separating the tattoo stations from the front. There’s no one behind the counter, but the bell on the door announced his arrival and he expects to see someone soon. He can hear the buzz of a machine from the back, then a woman’s loud, throaty laugh.
The saloon-style doors swing open, and a young guy appears. He’s tall and a little lanky like Caleb himself, arms festooned with color and his hair a neon pink Mohawk but it’s not his tattoos or hair or even the facial piercings that make Caleb’s eyes go wide with surprise. He’s got to be one of the most good looking men he’s ever seen, with dreamy blue eyes slightly smudged with eyeliner and high, sharp cheekbones flanking a precise aquiline nose.
The guy leans his elbows on the counter and smiles. “Hey man, what can we do for ya?”
Not expecting such handsomeness, Caleb feels a bit flustered. “Um, yeah, I wanted to get a consultation on a tattoo?” He hopes framing it as a question will prevent an eye rolling duh from Mr. Handsome Punk, and either it works or the guy isn’t a jerk, because he simply smiles and nods again.
“Cool, what are you looking for? Color? Black and gray?”
“Black and gray. With just a tiny bit of color.” Caleb retrieves the paper from his messenger bag and flattens it on the counter, suddenly very self-conscious of his amateur drawing, especially when one of the guy’s eyebrows goes up a bit and his smile turns into a smirk. “I’m not the best artist…” Caleb says feebly.
“No worries, man, this is great. Our artists can definitely work with this. You’ll probably want Zoey. She’s our resident black and gray expert, and she’s great with animals.” The guys smirks again and Caleb gets the impression that he’s at inside joke.
“Yeah, I saw some of her stuff online,” he answers. “She does great work.”
“And lucky for you, she’s working today. She’s finishing up a piece right now, but she can meet with you when she’s done, if you don’t mind hanging out for a bit.”
Caleb nods. “Yeah, that’s cool. Thanks.” He turns towards the couch, just as a voice calls out from behind the saloon doors..
“Hey Dante! Get your ass back here and get me a clean fucking rinse cup!” Handsome Punk, Dante, rolls his eyes and smiles at Caleb, then grabs his drawing and disappears back through the swinging doors.
Caleb settles into the leather couch and starts to flip through the portfolios laid out on the table. There are three, each album several inches thick and suggest a lot more photos than what he saw online. He picks up the one with a blood-red leather cover with the name Zoey carved in elegant lettering and flips it open. It becomes apparent almost immediately that Dante was right about Zoey’s talents. There are a few excellent color pieces, but it’s clear that her passion is black and gray. There are sugar skulls, memorial portraits, a large piece on a man’s thigh that looks to be a scene from The Inferno, fierce tigers, the Virgén de Guadalupe on a delicate foot, classic roses, an incredible owl on the muscled bicep of a woman, and even a couple of wolves. The detail and shading of each piece is exquisite, as is the placement of each tattoo, the lines and curves of the art flowing organically with the wearer’s body, the shading precise and seamless on each one. With each flip of the page, Caleb is getting more excited to be tattooed by Zoey.
After looking through her portfolio, he grabs the next, this one with the name Maribel carved into the purple cover in much simpler lettering than Zoey’s, but no less skilled. Maribel’s specialty seems to be script and small, detailed pieces – he didn’t even know tattoos could be that small and still be so intricate.. Her work is just as stunning as Zoey’s, and Caleb is feeling more and more confident in his decision to come here. He should buy Liz a bottle of wine to say thank you.
The third album is black, and instead of being carved into the leather, the name Mack is stamped into a small square of metal that’s been screwed to the cover. This one is the most unassuming and plain outside, but the moment Caleb opens it, it explodes in an orgy of color, and it’s readily apparent that Mack is Triskele’s color expert. His work seems to run the gamut of styles, from classic sailor to minimalist, abstract to watercolor and everything in between; he seems to be a master of them all. There are vibrant landscapes and simple, elegant animals; a truly masterful back piece of the Alchemy tarot card, and even a couple of multi-panel comic book pieces that Caleb practically drools over. He almost wishes he wanted his Wolf to be in color, just so he could wear this man’s incredible art on his body forever. But he’s set on all black with red eyes, just like the Wolf of his dreams, but decides that his second tattoo will be in color, by Mack.
Not long after he’s looked through all of the portfolios the saloon doors swing open. A middle- aged guy with a bandaged forearm walks out, followed by one of the most stunningly beautiful women Caleb has ever seen. Long, thick blonde hair that falls in big, loose curls down her back, big brown eyes and bright red lips, and goddam, he thinks, do you have to be a model to work here? The woman is abundantly curvy and covered in tattoos; pretty much all of her skin that he can see, a fair amount, since she’s wearing a low cut, thin-strapped tank top, is beautifully inked, including a bright magenta and purple peony on her neck that he just saw a photo of in Mack’s portfolio. If Caleb were into women, he’d be tripping over himself to either flirt awkwardly or run away in utter terror.
The woman hugs her client goodbye and then levels her ey
es at him. “Are you my wolf boy?” she practically purrs, smiling mischievously.
“Uh, yeah, I guess that’s me,” he answers, somewhat dazed, but finding that he likes the appellation. “I’m Caleb,” he adds, clearing his throat. He stands and extends his hand, which she takes in a firm – holy shit, really firm – handshake.
“Hey Caleb, I’m Zoey. Thanks for waiting. Come on back.” She turns with a flip of her mermaid hair, not bothering to make sure he’s following. Caleb imagines that not many people choose to not follow this goddesses anywhere she pleases.
Behind the saloon doors, the shop is divided by half-walls into four workstations, two on each side of the narrow path that leads to another backroom and the bathroom. Three of the stations look like tattoo spaces, and the fourth holds various pieces of equipment and a large drafting table. Dante is sterilizing Zoey’s workstation, so she takes him to the one across from hers, this space downright plain in comparison to the chaotic array of stickers and art that cover Zoey’s. There’s an unadorned, tall brushed steel tool chest and a drafting table, and some drawings on the wall above it, tattoos waiting to be inked, but other than that, there’s little personalization to the space.
“Mack’s off today, so he won’t mind if we sit here,” Zoey explains as she kicks a rolling stool over to Caleb. She sits in the other chair at the small drafting table nestled in the corner. Mack’s workstation is as plain and unassuming as the cover of his portfolio, and Caleb is suddenly quite curious about the man whose space seems in such stark contrast with the vibrant work he creates.
Zoey spreads the drawing of his Wolf out on the table and switches on the lamp clamped to its side. “I like wolves,” she says approvingly, smoothing the paper with one hand while twirling a heavy-looking mechanical pencil swiftly between her fingers of the other. Across the way, Dante snort in laughter. Zoey ignores him. “Did you draw this?”
Caleb feels his cheeks redden. God, he’s such a loser, showing his crappy drawing to a real artist and asking her to lower herself to recreate it. “Um, yeah, I know it’s not the best,” he shrugs. “I’m better with words than I am with drawing, but it’s, um, a specific wolf, so I want to make sure it’s just right.” He wonders if that makes him sound crazy; after all, it’s not a portrait of a person, how much should it matter if it looks exactly like he wants it to? A lot of wolves look similar – maybe she thinks he’s nuts for wanting something so particular?
Zoey slides her assessing eyes away from his drawing to study his face, holding his gaze for a second too long than seems strictly necessary, like she’s trying to puzzle something out. “Of course,” she finally replies. “Each wolf is an individual.”
“Yeah,” Caleb says, breaking into smile and letting out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, strangely relieved that she seems to understand.
“If you don’t mind,” Zoey says, looking back down at the drawing, “I’d like to redraw it. Nothing too major, just smooth out the lines, add a little more depth, maybe change the perspective, stuff like that. It’ll be this wolf, just…” she trails off, looking for a not-so-insulting word.
“Better?” Caleb supplies, laughing.
Zoey laughs too, her smile wide and captivating, her remarkably sharp canine teeth framed by the ruby-red glow of her lips. “Yes. It will be better. And of course, it’s going on your body, so you have final say. If you don’t like what I draw, we can try again until we get it right. Sound good?”
“Sounds great. Thanks.”
“Rad. So, where are we putting this guy, and how big do you want him?”
“That’s what he said!” Dante calls from across the way.
“You wish!” Zoey hollers right back, not missing a beat.
Caleb, who had been grinning at her double entendre, snorts with laughter and Zoey rolls her eyes. “I like you, kid,” she says, even though she can’t be that much older than him.
“My back,” he says, answering her initial question while still grinning foolishly. “Left shoulder blade.” Just behind my heart, he thinks. “About this big?” He holds his hands up in circle, the tips of his long fingers not quite touching.
Zoey nods. “Stand up and strip.” Caleb does as he’s told, and Dante turns their way to ask Zoey a question just as he does, and stops mid-sentence when he sees Caleb standing there shirtless. Caleb knows he as a certain appeal to some guys, and apparently Dante is one of those guys because he is openly staring, and yeah, Caleb is incredibly flattered. He’s not as gangly as he used to be, but he’s not super buff by any stretch of the imagination; his lanky frame has filled out as he’s put on muscle in recent years, thanks to Leo’s manipulative use of puppy eyes to get Caleb to join him at the gym. But even so, he’s not really used to people staring at him so openly, and Dante’s apparent attraction flatters and flusters him.
Zoey seems to take pity on both of them and turns Caleb away from Dante with a gentle hand on his shoulder. She places her hand on his back, where he told her he wanted the tattoo. “About here,” she murmurs quietly, her hand light on his left shoulder blade. “Yeah, this is going to look badass, dude. I’m gonna make it look like this wolf grew right out of your skin.”
“Promise?” Caleb hopes it sounds like he’s joking.
“Promise,” she repeats. “And, this is your lucky day, wolf boy. I had a cancellation, so I can get you in tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Caleb practically yells.
“Is that okay?”
“Fuck yeah, that’s awesome! I was dreading having to wait for months. Thank you. Shit, I am so excited.”
“Good. You can put your shirt back on.”
Zoey is studying his drawing again, and he can see her eyes tracing his amateur lines, her hand twitching to make them better. He’s dying to see what she draws. “Dante said you wanted some color,” she asks.
“Yeah, I want his eyes to be red.” He’s sliding his shirt on over his head as he says it, and when his head pops out of the whole, she’s staring at him, her own eyes wide.
“Red eyes?” Her nostrils – each one decorated with a tiny gemstone – flare slightly.
“Yeah. Not like evil, though. Just red. Like a magical, but not evil, glowing red. If that makes sense.”
Zoey regains her composure quickly, so quickly Caleb wonders if he imagined her strange expression. “Sure, that makes sense. We'll look at my colors tomorrow. If I don’t have the right shade, I’m sure Mack does.” That gets another snort from Dante, and this time Caleb has no idea why.
They discuss the price and Caleb pays a deposit; he leaves with Zoey’s card and a half-hatched plan for asking Dante out tomorrow. He can’t wait.
3
His appointment with Zoey is at noon, but Caleb misjudges how the long the bus will take and he gets to Cap Hill forty-five minutes early. He settles into the coffee shop next to the tattoo parlor with his book and tries not to fidget too much in anticipation. He doesn’t even care about the pain or the needles, he’s just itching to make his Wolf permanent.
The coffee shop is great – an excellent latte and blueberry muffin, comfortable chairs and good music. Upon further reflection and texting with Abbie last night, Caleb decided last night that it wasn’t really cool to ask someone out at their work, so he’s nixed his plan to ask out Dante, but hey, surely the artists at Triskele send him next door for coffee right? Maybe this needs to be his new weekend coffee shop, and if he happens to run into the Handsome Punk and they strike up a conversation….
The idea of going on a date, especially with someone as cute as Dante, scares Caleb as much as it excites him, as his romantic history hasn’t really been all that fantastic. He’s had a few short and fairly casual relationships that always fizzled out in mutual disinterest after a couple months, and enough one night stands to know that he doesn’t really like them but they're better than nothing when he’s aching to be touched. But really, Caleb has never been all that comfortable dating. He’s always worried that the other person
is just humoring him and will get tired of him and his twitchy body and endless chattering and biting sarcasm, which is always what happens so he’s not wrong for worrying about it, right? And it’s only been in the past year or so that he’s started to feel like he wants to something more meaningful. With everything else in his life settling into place pretty nicely, a romantic partner seems like the last missing piece. It’s not like he thinks this Dante guy’s gonna be that missing piece, but he’s hot and seemed to think Caleb was too so why not give it a shot? At the very least, he might get a chance to hook up with an incredibly good-looking guy, and at worst, Caleb humiliates himself and has to leave the city forever.
He’s grateful when it’s time to head next door for his appointment, if for no other reason than he knows he needs to get out of his head about dating. That way lies madness and cringe-worthy attempts at flirting and spiraling pity-parties, and today isn’t about that.
Today is about his Wolf.
The bell above the door announces his arrival once again. This time though, Zoey is standing behind the counter. “Caleb! It’s good to see you again.” Her brilliant, terrifying smile is just as alluring, today painted a deep purple. “Come on back, I’m stoked for you to see what I’ve got for you, Wolf boy.” He follows her back, and when they get to her workstation, she pulls a piece of paper from a folder with a dramatic flourish. “What do you think?”
Something Magic Page 2