by Eve R. Hart
The fact that I didn’t spot an ounce of ink on her told me that she was more than likely there to get her first one. And I would have put money on the fact that she would back out before I even got started.
I imagined that she wanted a butterfly and for a second, cursed the fact that Blade wasn’t around.
Maybe all of that made me an asshole, but the reality was, I’d seen it too many times before.
“Can I help you?” I asked and my tone might have been a bit dull.
“I’m here to talk to Brand.” Her voice was light and airy and I could detect a bit of nervousness there.
“Yeah,” I all but barked. People coming in and asking for me wasn’t anything new.
“Yo-you’re Brand?” And there was the nervousness coming out full force.
“Yes, that is me.” I sat up straighter, but didn’t lean back on the stool.
“Uhm,” she sputtered as she took a giant step forward and held out her hand. “I’m Cami, and I, well, I saw your work online, and there weren’t any pictures of you, so I had no idea it was you. Anyway, I noticed that you have most of it covered with what you guys can do here, the only thing that seems to be lacking is more realistic portraits and, like, landscapes and such…”
I shook her hand only out of politeness. I wasn’t that much of a dick. This girl kind of had a fangirl vibe going on and suddenly my interests were peaked. It was obvious that she’d done her homework before walking into the shop.
The question was, why?
“Yeah, well if that’s what you’re looking to get done and you know that we’re known for other stuff, then why did you come here to get work done?”
“Oh, no,” she said quickly with a shake of her head. “I’m not here to get anything done.”
“So why the hell are you here?” I asked and I could feel my head start to pound. I wasn’t in the mood for this going around in circles bullshit.
“Well, you’re the best shop in town, in my opinion, anyway, and I was hoping I could…maybe learn from you. You could teach me the ways of tattooing.”
I blinked, and blinked again. I had half a mind to look around to see if Sketch was hiding somewhere. Was this some kind of prank the guys were trying to pull on me?
“I mean, I’ll do all the grunt work,” she rushed to say when I’d been silent for far too long. “I’ll clean out the printer when it’s jammed. I’ll scrub down the bathrooms. I’ll take the trash out. Whatever. I don’t mean to sound desperate, but I really want this.”
I didn’t miss how her voice was almost pleading or how her toes noticeably wiggled in her thin shoes. Or the way she bit her lip, so far on the left side her teeth were almost sinking into the corner of her mouth. I had to admit, it was kind of cute in an adorable sort of way.
“You want to be my apprentice?” I asked really slowly because I still wasn’t sure about what the fuck was going on.
“Yes,” she rushed to say in an excited tone.
“No,” I said as I shook my head. I wasn’t trying to be an asshole, but it seemed like a really bad idea. “I honestly don’t think that’s going to work.”
“P-please,” she said as she pulled open her bag and began to dig around blindly. “Just, here. Look at my stuff before you tell me no.” She stepped forward and my nose filled with the light scent of fresh powder and something floral. It wasn’t overly strong. In fact, I found myself taking in a deep breath through my nose to get more of the scent without even realizing it.
I flipped through her portfolio. It was a mix of painted prints and a few sketches done in pencil and charcoal. I had to admit that her work was good. The outdoor scenery ones were on point. Her figures were amazing too. And I realized that I’d stopped on a sketch of a naked woman. Her pose was almost one of a ballet dancer stuck in mid-arch. It was beautiful and this girl, Cami, had managed to capture the emotions on the woman’s face perfectly. My eyes easily became lost in the smooth lines and harsh shading. If she could transfer all of her talent to skin from a vibrating needle, then she had the potential to surpass all of us in this shop. And I wasn’t even ashamed to admit that. Though I wasn’t going to say that to her now. I didn’t want to get her hopes up in any sort of way.
“Be here at noon tomorrow,” I said against my better judgment.
“I have the job…or apprenticeship, rather?” she asked, a hopeful ring in her tone.
“You can help around the shop for a few days. I need to see how you interact with the guys here as well as the clients. Make it through this week and we can talk about it further.”
She flashed me an excited smile. There was something about her that I just couldn’t put my finger on. I blamed it on my over-curious mind. I had to know what a girl like her was doing down here and all but begging to learn how to put art on skin. I hoped this wasn’t some rebellious thing where she was doing her best to piss off her parents. The last thing this shop needed was any kind of drama.
“See you tomorrow. Thank you, Brand.” She picked up her portfolio and darted out of the shop without even stuffing it back in her expensive bag.
“What was that all about?” Sketch asked as he came out from his room. I imagined he caught at least some of what went on.
“Honestly, I don’t know, man. But starting tomorrow we are going to have some girl hanging out in the shop. I want to see how she fits in and then…”
Then what? Yeah, I had no idea what to even say. I really didn’t think it was a good idea but for some reason, my brain was trying to convince me otherwise, or telling me to at least give her a chance.
“A chick? Is she hot?” he asked as he walked to the front of the shop and scanned outside the huge windows. She was long gone, I imagined speeding off in her BMW or whatever she had.
“Don’t even,” I said hoping to stop that train right then. I didn’t need him messing with her, especially if I was going to keep her around. “I might take her on as a shop girl, or something.” The ‘or something’ was more right. But I didn’t want to get into it until I’d made a decision.
“Okay. Whatever.” He gave a lazy shrug then turned back to face me. He rattled on about the appointments we had lined up for the day as if nothing had even happened.
Out of the three of us, Sketch was definitely the most wild, though, Blade was a close second. Sketch was young and saw no problem in having a good time. Quickly followed by another good time, and then top that off with some more. Yes, he for one, never seemed to stop, and two, didn’t seem to care to have any kind of attachments. As far as women were concerned, that was.
He was still a prospect, but he was as loyal and hardworking as they came. Though he was young, barely nineteen, he had already been through the hardships of a hundred lifetimes. It was easy to tell that he needed the familiarity and camaraderie that the club offered.
Blade sometimes had an eerie coldness about him. He wasn’t one to let his feelings be known. He was kind of a hardass and wasn’t one to ask permission. Since the time he’d started working at the shop, I’d seen a slight change in him, though. There were times, when no one was around, that he became a tiny bit more relaxed. And when he was hanging out at the bar or clubhouse, he wasn’t so standoffish with everyone as he had once been. I could tell he was a hard one to crack. It was nice to see that he was letting people in a little, even if it was on his own terms.
I looked around the shop, a smile tugging at my lips. Some days, I couldn’t believe that I was really here. That this was all, in a sense, mine.
Ever since I turned twenty and felt the vibration of the buzzing needle in my hand, I’d been hooked. Growing up, I’d always had a pencil in my hand and a sketch pad resting on my lap. It didn’t matter what I was looking at, I’d draw it. When it was just me and my hand to the paper, it was the calmest I’d ever felt. That feeling now continued on when I dipped the needle in ink and made images permanent on flesh. I took pride in each piece I did. It was my own personal goal to never let anyone leave feeling like I’d just s
lapped something on them. As odd as it may sound, each person I tattooed walked away with a tiny sliver of my soul.
Sure, some days were long and some of the people that came in were difficult. But I’d take the bad as long as I got some of the good.
And there was that calm that I loved, that I felt down to my bones. Even just sitting there in the middle of the shop, looking out the front windows waiting for my next appointment, I felt the blissfulness of it all.
I just crossed my fingers that the calm wasn’t about to be shattered.
But somehow, I had a feeling things were going to be very different from here on out.
CHAPTER SIX
Cami
What did one wear to their first day of…almost work at a tattoo shop? Nothing that was in my closet that was for sure. Cardigans and knee-length skirts, I would say definitely no. But the truth was, I had limited options for things that wouldn’t make me stick out like a sore thumb.
Okay, so I did have some jeans, all of them tight and didn’t leave much room for moving around easily. If I was going to be the shop Cinderella, which is what I was imagining in my head at the moment, then I needed something that would let me move freely.
I ended up with a pair of gray, sparkly leggings. I tossed on one of the loose fitting tanks that I wore when I painted, so it had a bunch of splatters and finger smudges on it from where I used it as a rag out of convenience. Then since I felt a little unsure, I tossed a hot pink cardigan over it. If I felt too awkward by the time I got there, I could button the thing up and hide the paint mess on my shirt. Slipping on a pair of plain black ballet flats, I decided I was ready to face the day.
Brand made me nervous and I was sure I didn’t hide that even a little bit. He was way cuter than I’d pictured him in my mind. I tried and tried to find a picture of him before I walked into Branded In Ink, but there wasn’t a single one. And since I didn’t have his whole name, I couldn’t go full stalker.
In my head, he was some older guy covered from neck to toes in ink. Bald head. A bit of a beer gut.
Brand was none of those things.
While I did spot some ink on his arms it wasn’t such a mess that one thing blended into the other. I couldn’t say anything as far as the rest of him, but I would tell you that I did wonder what was hidden under his clothes. Tattoo wise that was! Seriously, I wasn’t thinking about dirty stuff. Head out of the gutter! He wasn’t bald either or had a beer gut. I caught a flash of dimples at one point when he was talking and I so desperately wanted to know what they looked like when his face went full-on happy smile.
But none of that mattered. I was there for one thing, and one thing only. To work my way up to tattoo artist. And if I was lucky enough, I’d earn a place in his shop.
Was this a completely insane idea? Yes. And I knew once my parents found out there would be a massive blowout. However, as I drove past the lively part of downtown to the part where the businesses started to drop off, and the blocks were filled with more empty storefronts than not, I didn’t give two shakes of a stick at all.
I felt giddy and happy like a kid on Christmas morning. I only hoped that it would all work out. Brand seemed a little unsure and closed off. Maybe even on the verge of butt-hole with his cold attitude. Nothing I couldn’t either deal with or break through. I hoped for the latter. I knew nothing of the other two that worked there. Yesterday, the place had seemed so quiet that I even wondered if anyone besides Brand was working then.
I wondered for the hundredth time if this was a bad move. As I parked my pride and joy along the street, I prayed that no one would mess with her. Yes a her. And no, I didn’t drive around in some BMW convertible. I may have had a family that had more money than they knew what to do with, but I liked to live practically. So, my beauty was a deep blue Dodge Charger. A nineteen seventy-one Charger to be precise.
How is that practical? Well, it was the same one my grandfather drove back in the day. He kept that thing in pristine condition even though he didn’t drive it that much. And when he had his license taken away after he took out an entire street length of mailboxes, I saved her from the junkyard. Yes, he happened to be in that car when he took out those poor driveway decorators. So the car had some damage and because of that, my parents were ready to throw it away, in a sense. I jumped in and begged them to let me keep it. I worked an entire summer at a local pottery place just to pay for the repairs. Because, even if they were going to help me out, I wanted to do it myself.
I knew this wasn’t the best area of the city and I honestly hadn’t thought of that before this moment. I hated to leave her sitting right there like a giant neon sign screaming ‘steal me and take me for a joyride’ or whatever people did when they stole cars.
A knock on my windshield made me jump as a scream like I was being murdered ripped out of my throat. My hand went to my chest as I turned to look at who had just scared the daylights out of me. When I saw it was Brand, who was motioning for me to roll down my window, I did just that.
“Sorry,” he said, the corner of his lips twitched while his eyes held the sincerity of his statement. “This your car?” I didn’t miss the shock and surprise in his tone.
“Yes.” My face felt both hot and tight.
I knew exactly what he was thinking and while I had hoped he hadn’t judged me right off the bat as some spoiled rich girl, it was clear he had. I couldn’t wait until he found out my name and made the connection. One of two things usually happened then, they would either be overly friendly and suck up or they would give me a look of disgust.
“I didn’t think that leaving my Benz parked on this side of town was a good idea, so I left it at home.” Sarcasm dripped from my tone and I wasn’t even trying to hide it.
So, one thing about me, I sometimes wasn’t able to bite my tongue and hide when I was unhappy or mad. Just sometimes. Years of practice had quelled that uncontrollable urge. And it might be the littlest of things that got under my skin. Being treated like an idiot and thinking that I spent all of daddy’s money were things that really hit that angry button for me. Right then, that’s what I felt like this Brand guy was doing. Judging me without even knowing me. As much as I should have been all sugar and roses and bending over backward to please him, I couldn’t stop myself this time so it seemed. And as I realized my mistake, I clamped my mouth shut and prayed that he wouldn’t take offense.
A slow, lazy smile worked its way across his face and Holy mothership, his dimples were so flipping deep. I might have just turned into a melted puddle right there on my black leather seat. I mean, his smile was brilliant too, his teeth were all white and perfect, annoyingly so. I bet he didn’t have to wear braces for three years to get his to look like that, unlike some unlucky people—oh yes, I did have that awkward phase in my life.
But those dimples were what made it. Two of them. One on each side of his face, perfectly positioned right in the center of his cheeks, and so deep I thought I could get lost in them. And boy, did I want to.
“All I was going to say is that there is a lot behind the shop. You can park it back there. Go down the alley,” he said, his smile still there, as he pointed to where I needed to go.
He straightened and took a step back, his eyes glued to mine and I didn’t even want to blink. I was half worried, but only because he was backing up into the road. Then I realized that the chances of a car driving down this street were fairly slim and if there was, they would have been going slow enough to give some sort of warning.
“Okay, thanks,” I mumbled, still a little embarrassed about my comment.
“This,” he said pointing at my car. “This fits.” His head did a bobbing nod for a second, then he was walking off in the direction of the shop, leaving me to wonder what he even meant by that statement. “I’ll meet you at the back door.” He didn’t turn around to look at me as he called out over his shoulder.
After a huge, deep breath in, I turned over the key and drove to where he’d told me to. It was a tiny lot, ju
st enough for three cars. The lot was empty so I parked in the middle spot. I wondered where Brand’s car was, but then thought that maybe he parked it out front. Then I couldn’t help but think about what it was that he drove. I shook myself out of those thoughts as I climbed out and headed for the back of the building. The heavy, metal door popped open with an angry groan and Brand held it open until I had made it inside.
Inside, the shop was still dark and everything was so quiet there was almost a stillness in the air.
“This is the office,” he said as he pointed to a door on the left. “You can put your stuff in there or there is a locked cabinet behind the front desk.”
“In here is fine,” I said as I followed him into the room.
Why was I suddenly so nervous? I had no idea but I needed to shake it off and focus. While I was there to impress this guy, I also wasn’t about to compromise or change who I was. At the same time, I knew I needed to keep my temper in check and not mouth off even a little to my new potential boss-type person.
“So this is the office.” He flipped on the harsh overhead light revealing the small space that held a filing cabinet, smallish desk, and a couple of chairs. “You can set your stuff on top of the filing cabinet.”
I did so, then looked around. It was surprisingly organized. There was a laptop and tablet sitting on the desk and a single, small pile of papers that looked like they hadn’t been filed away yet. With a jerk of his head, he motioned for me to follow him out. He locked the door once we were outside.
“This is the timeout couch,” he said with a hint of amusement in his tone. “We put it there for Blade. He sometimes has to deal with the…well, sometimes he just needs a moment away from shit.”