by Leslie North
The money Thorn Tattoo made off the lessons was impressive, but if he was to quit, they could well be in the black even without the workshops.
Riley looked so at ease with her new position in the shop, so radiant and clearly happier than she had been in the office, that Giovanni couldn’t help but entertain the idea of leaving. As happy as he was upholding his father’s memory and working for his brother, seeing Riley happy did things to him that he’d never felt before. Seeing her happy made him not just happy, but elated.
Intelligent, artistic, detailed, and beautiful, it was hard to think he’d ever meet a woman half as wonderful as she was. Giovanni knew he could chase his dreams elsewhere. Luciano, his second oldest brother, was touring America as a guest tattooer, but the thought of leaving her stung.
If he walked away from Riley now, there was a significant chance that he would never see her again. Faces came and went in Las Vegas, chewed up and spit out by the City of Sin, and he knew that she had roots elsewhere. If her art took off and she built up a respectable portfolio, she could work at any shop in the world. He knew she’d want to settle somewhere closer to home, maybe even Ireland, where her grandparents lived. Riley had spoken of them fondly during quiet moments, reminiscing about her childhood spent living with them. Giovanni had no idea what had happened to her parents, but it seemed like they weren’t in the picture.
“Gio,” Riley called before he left the bay, “come here for a sec?”
Giovanni turned around and returned to her side. She was wiping loose ink off her client, the tattoo finished. The white highlights she’d added in looked phenomenal. “Yeah?”
“What do you think?” Riley asked. “Is it Thorn Tattoo quality?”
Giovanni shot her a look, and then studied the tattoo with a critical eye. She’d done the design and placement herself, and it was better than some of the stuff even Jaime, their veteran artist, was capable of doing.
“Yeah. It looks great.”
The look of pride on Riley’s face shone in her eyes, and Giovanni offered her a soft smile.
“I think it looks killer,” Mitch said. He twisted his arm to look at the design better. “Wrap me up and let’s get payment squared away. I’m stoked to see how this heals.”
“It’s going to heal great,” Giovanni assured him. “There aren’t any blowouts, the blacks are well balanced and will hold the color in well, and she was gentle on the skin. You’ll experience slight scabbing, but that’s standard with any tattoo. With appropriate aftercare, the tattoo will heal to look exactly like it does now.”
Riley had done a damn fine job, and she had every right to look proud. If he’d been in her shoes, he would have looked proud, too.
“Take care.” Giovanni couldn’t stick around any longer. Not only did he have a slide show to construct for the next workshop, but he also needed to look at the figures again. Riley had been leaving him little notes begging him to look at the bottom line and the suggestions she’d made about it, but Giovanni had been putting it off. He knew he couldn’t keep dodging the truth, but they’d been doing so well that he didn’t want to be brought down from his high.
Everything was going fine, and he didn’t want to be convinced otherwise. Not now that Riley was happy, and not now that Giovanni was thinking that happiness was within reach, too.
He shut himself in the office and sat at the small desk. Riley had piled a stack of papers to one side of the desk, each of them detailing the different expenses and income streams associated with Thorn Tattoo. The top sheet was her summary, including a few figures for Giovanni’s consideration. He sat at the desk and slid the top sheet off the pile. Riley had hand written it, her letters elegant and easy to read.
The numbers on the papers didn’t look good.
Giovanni scowled and went over Riley’s math, trying to find a flaw with her assessment. There was no way Thorn Tattoo was still bleeding money that badly, was it? He couldn’t fathom it. Even if he did leave, things would still be tight.
“Damn.”
Riley would need to work more tattoos, charge more, take on more ambitious projects…. Giovanni drummed his fingers on the desk as he tried to figure it out. There had to be a way to get through this, but he couldn’t figure it out.
Riley, who had a better head for business and a fresh perspective, had to have some inkling. He examined her notes down the margin, mentioning things like professional development for Mal and Jaime, and boosting hourly rates and body modification fees. She was even suggesting Ben potentially intern so that he could join the staff, and they replace him with a part time, unqualified worker who wouldn’t be able to help manage walk-ins or do piercings.
It felt wrong. Riley was grasping at straws as much as he was, and they wouldn’t find a solution unless they sat down and went over the figures together.
With the shop as busy as it was, that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Between taking care of walk-in clients, putting together slide shows, and managing the place, Giovanni’s time was stretched thin. With Riley dealing with the leftovers from The News’ bookings, breaks in their schedules were unlikely to match up.
Giovanni grabbed a pen off the desk and tapped it against the paper, thinking. He could try to convince Antonio to invest a little more money, tell him that Riley was a diamond in the rough and with a little luck and a bit of promoting, she could be their ticket to absolute stardom, but he wasn’t sure that Antonio would go for it.
If he’d learned anything from Riley, it was that businesses thrived on taking calculated risks. If Antonio couldn’t accurately predict numbers, he wouldn’t go for it. The idea that Riley would rise to superstar status so soon into her career was stretching it. Not even Giovanni, who’d been tattooing for his entire adult life, had ascended to a top tier like that.
Antonio wasn’t as knowledgeable about the industry as he and Luciano were, but he wasn’t dumb. If there was one thing his brother knew how to do, it was research.
Riley could likely start pulling in some significant figures once she had a portfolio ironed out and a client base established, but it might take longer than a single quarter. Hell, there was a chance it could take years.
If Riley wanted to tattoo at all.
As proud as she’d looked while tattooing the last client, Giovanni knew that there was something going on with her that made her hesitate to pick up the machine. There was a reason why she hadn’t told any of them about her art background, and he needed to find out what it was before it interfered with any of their potential earnings.
Riley entered the office, gloves off and tattoo over. Giovanni took it as an opportunity to speak to her about her past.
If they were going to keep Thorn Tattoo’s doors open, he needed answers.
“I haven’t had a chance to ask you,” Giovanni said as she closed the door, “but where did you learn that stuff?”
“Tattooing?” Riley asked.
He bobbed his head, kicking back in his chair to wait for her answer.
“I, um, well…” Riley fiddled with the sleeve of her jacket, refusing to meet his eye. Her eyes lost their shine, and Giovanni knew he was wading into dangerous territory. “I apprenticed with a friend back when I was in college. You’re probably asking yourself how I found time to do that, right? Attending classes at Princeton but still managing to pull it off? Well, if you asked me that now, I’d have no idea.” She laughed, but the sound was hollow. “I was in a sorority at Princeton, Sigma Delta Tau, and we were involved with the school and the community, and spent all of our free time planning and socializing. I guess somewhere along the way, at one of the mixers, I met up with Amanda. She wasn’t a student at Princeton, but she lived in the area. She looked so young; I later found out that she was ten years older than I was. She was covered head to toe in tattoos, and no one in the sorority was willing to talk to her, so I made it my mission… and we hit it off.”
Absentmindedly, Giovanni’s fingers traced patterns on the desk as he listened. T
he discomfort in her voice was plain, but the memory stirred a smile on Riley’s face that bordered on tragic.
“When she found out I enjoyed art, and then discovered I was actually good at it, she took me in and apprenticed me at her shop. For four years, I spent all my free time in her shop, and during school breaks, I worked up to ten hours a day, studying under her tutelage. At first it was just watching, then prepping the equipment, and then she let me tattoo my very first design onto her so she could tell me if I was getting the angle right, or going too deep. I remember she used to bark at me to keep my hand steady so my lines wouldn’t wobble, and she told me I needed to be confident in what I did. But I’ve never been confident in my art. I don’t think I’m that good.”
Whoever had convinced her of that had done the world a disservice. Giovanni set his jaw as his temper flared, but he allowed her to keep speaking. It was rare that Riley opened up, and he wanted to know what was holding her back.
“When I wasn’t in her shop, I practiced on artificial canvases. It was all under the table stuff, and I’m pretty sure it was all kinds of illegal, but I was young and I didn’t think anything of it. We were good friends who shared a passion for art, and it was a way to express my creativity that I certainly would never achieve from my classwork.”
Giovanni’s fingers stopped tracing. He watched Riley carefully, reading her facial expressions and weighing her words carefully.
“Something happened,” he said when she didn’t continue.
“Yeah.” Riley frowned. “My last year of school, my da found out and he about exploded. Forbid me from working there. Told me if he’d ever found out I’d gotten a tattoo, he’d disown me. Threatened to cut me off from my grandparents. He’d even driven up to Princeton and gone to her shop shouting at her to stay away from me and then he bullied his way into my sorority and found my room. He tossed all my art books and tattoo equipment that Amanda had given me. It was horrible. Amanda and I lost touch after that.”
“What about your mom?” Giovanni wished he could take back the question when he saw the look on her face.
“My mom is where I first learned about art. She was an artist. A bit flighty. When I was little, we spent all our time at museums and she was forever drawing on any bit of paper she could get her hands on and encouraging me. I loved the freedom that drawing gave me. As if I could make anything come to life when I put color to paper. I was in the first grade and one day she wasn’t there to pick me up. Instead, it was an older woman. My gran. She brought me home and I met my grandad for the first time.” Riley’s eyes were misty as she talked and Giovanni itched to take her in his arms to comfort her.
“I was surprised to see luggage outside and I never even got to walk in the house before they were placing me in the car and whisking me off to Ireland to live. When I was older, I’d found out that my mom had simply left. My da searched everywhere for her, but she was just gone. No explanation. No note. I lived with my grandparents until high school when I moved back to the US to live with my da again. He was a different man. Cold. Angry. Sad. He’d never moved and the house had become as bleak as he was. There was no talk of art. Ever.”
“So you chose finance?” Giovanni couldn’t imagine an artist choosing numbers over pictures.
Shaking her head, “That was my da again. He was right in one respect. Before I finished school, I’d been offered a great job with a fantastic salary, which I spent mostly on clothes.”
Giovanni didn’t hide his smile at that but then he frowned. “So if you had such a great job, why are you here? Clearly, you could do better.”
Riley crossed her arms across her chest, grief evident on her face. “Last year, I got a call from one of the guys in Amanda’s shop. He said that she was sick and was asking to see me. I left work immediately and drove down to Princeton. When I got there, I was shocked.” Riley faltered, pausing to take several deep breaths. “Amanda…she was already under hospice care.”
Giovanni reached out for her hand, which Riley gratefully took. Squeezing it like a lifeline. “She could barely speak but I spent the rest of the day with her and didn’t go home that night. The next morning, she was gone. Pancreatic cancer. She’d been fighting it for a while but didn’t want anyone to know until she’d become too sick to work.”
Giovanni frowned. Her story sounded familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. Suddenly, he looked up at Riley in shock.
“Amanda Tate?”
Nodding her head, “Yes, that was her name.”
“The Amanda Tate?”
Riley looked at him. “It’s a common name, Giovanni, I don’t see what you’re getting at,” she told him, pulling her hand away.
“You apprenticed with Amanda Tate of Princeton,” Giovanni asked again, completely shocked as understanding slammed into him like a freight train. Standing up, he turned toward the stacks of Inked magazines and sifted through them muttering to himself, “It all makes sense now.” Finding what he was looking for, he tossed the years old copy down on the desk.
Picking it up, Riley smiled, as her finger lightly traced over the photo of her old friend who graced the cover. “She never told me she was famous,” she said softly as she opened the magazine and scanned the list of awards Amanda had won. “I had no idea. She’s was always just Amanda.”
Giovanni sat down heavily in the chair, staring at Riley as though she’d grown a second head. It was obvious now why she was so talented. Amanda Tate had been at the top of her game around the time she would have apprenticed Riley. “So leaving your cushy job and coming here…you did it for Amanda?” His mind wandered, wondering if Antonio knew about this and conveniently chose to leave this information out.
“Well, if I’m being honest, for both of us. I wasn’t happy at my old job. I really missed tattooing and, well, when I saw this job listing, it was a way to blend both sides of me. But coming here to work in a tattoo shop was the best way to honor Amanda’s memory and watch others do the kind of art I love. Picking up a tattoo gun again… I’m not sure how I feel about it. It’s a really big step. My father had been so angry, as if making art conjured up my mother and maybe it did for him.”
“What your father did was wrong.” Giovanni didn’t need to think twice to say it. He continued to clutch the edge of the desk, trying to work some of his anger out by squeezing as hard as he could. What Riley needed was someone who spoke calmly and rationally, not a man who flew off the handle. “You’re one of the most talented artists who has ever walked into the shop and clearly Amanda knew it or she never would have apprenticed you. You’re doing the world a disservice by hiding yourself away in the office.”
Riley blushed and ducked her gaze. The pink in her cheeks stirred his heart.
“Thanks.”
“I mean it,” Giovanni said seriously. “I want you to start building a portfolio.”
Riley looked up at him then, discomfort clear in her eyes. She bit down on her bottom lip. “There’s really a lot to get done around the office,” she said in a quiet voice. She stood and walked to the door, the click of her heels punctuating the pause between her sentences. “I’m going to have to think about it, but… I don’t know.”
Guided by her hand, the office door opened, and Riley stepped out into the hallway. Giovanni frowned as he watched her go. Didn’t she understand how talented and skilled she was?
“I’ll let you know a little later,” Riley said in parting. Her eyes grew softer and she managed a sad smile. “Thanks for listening to me. I don’t really tell anyone about what happened. No one else would understand.”
The door closed. Giovanni watched it for a long while even after it was shut.
He understood. God, did he understand.
And he would be damned if he allowed talent like Riley to slip through the cracks again. He was certain more than ever that Riley Byrne was Thorn Tattoo’s damn miracle.
16
Riley
Riley’s hand trembled as she closed the office door. Talkin
g about what had happened with Amanda was still difficult, her heart broke when she thought about how little time they were able to spend together before she died. Riley blinked away tears and headed down the hall, past the tattoo bay, and to the front desk. Ben was helping Mitch square away the cost of his tattoo, and Riley fell silently into place at his side as he worked.
“Hey,” Mitch said. “I’m glad you came out. I wanted to thank you again for the work you did. This bad boy is going to be worn loud and proud for the rest of my life. Do you have a card or something with your contact info I can offer people who ask about your work?”
Flashbacks of the time she’d spent in Amanda’s shop flooded back. Once she’d gotten her chops with the tattoo machine, people had started to ask similar questions. Riley pursed her lips and stared at the desk. “I’m sorry. I don’t have any information. I’m not a regular tattoo artist at this shop.”
“Then where are you a regular?” Mitch asked. He passed his credit card over to Ben, and Ben ran it through the processor. “I just got this done, but I’m already thinking about my next piece. I think I want a full back piece done, and I want you to do it. I dig your style.”
Startled, Riley looked up from the desk. Doing a tattoo on the bicep was one thing, but an entire back piece? Something like that could run into thirty-six hours of work, if not more, depending on what kind of style and detail he was looking for. With the right rates, it was long pieces like the kind Mitch wanted that would keep Thorn Tattoo afloat.
“I’m um, well, I’m not really a regular anywhere, to be honest. I work in the office here.”