by Leslie North
“Don’t let her fool you,” Ben said as he passed the card back to Mitch and handed him one of the shop business cards. “She hid herself in the office for the last month, pretending to know jack-shit about art, and then she blows us all out of the water by executing flawless, skillful tattoos. She might work in the office, but she belongs on the floor. Pretty sure the boss is looking to get her working out here, and if that happens, she’ll have plenty of her own business cards.”
Riley’s mouth went dry, and she struggled to find the words to say to shoot Ben down. Dealing with walk-ins and helping when the shop was desperate was one thing, but she didn’t feel comfortable enough with her skill level to do anything more.
“Guess I’ll have to come back, then,” Mitch said, kissing the business card before tucking it in his wallet. He nodded to Riley. “Thanks for the awesome tat. I’ll be in the area again. Once you start working the floor, remember that I’ll be back to book you for a back piece. It’s going to be epic.”
“R-right,” Riley stammered. “Thanks for being such an amazing client. I’ll see you again later.”
Mitch left, and Riley and Ben both watched as he climbed the stairs to the front door and exited the shop. Ben shook his head. “Man, that tattoo was bad-ass. Even beneath the wrapping it looks fantastic.”
“Thanks,” Riley mumbled. Every instance of praise bolstered her confidence, but she couldn’t help but feel nervous. As much as she loved art, her father’s rejection of her skill had crushed her. “I’m not sure I’m going to be tattooing, though.”
“What?” Ben frowned. “That’s bullshit. You’re good! Better than I’ll ever be, if Gio ever lets me apprentice.”
“It’s just not something I feel comfortable with,” Riley said with a shrug. “I don’t feel like I’m a good fit.”
“Well, whatever you want, I guess,” Ben said, voice downcast. “I think you’re talented and that it’s a waste not to put that talent to use, but who am I to say anything? You do you. That’s the most important part.”
Riley nodded, but her heart wasn’t in it. The thought of spending the rest of her life crunching numbers and putting together plans for success after she’d had a taste of tattooing again felt hollow. Riley’s heart had never strayed from tattooing and Amanda’s death was part of the reason why she’d moved so far to take on work. Honoring Amanda and helping others create art had been the plan, but now that there was a chance she could take things a step further….
There was a lot to think about.
Riley stepped out from behind the desk, absentmindedly checked on the supplies in the display cases, then headed toward the back of the store to check on their autoclave and start some casual cleanup. Before she could make it to the back room, Mal came out from his tattoo bay, sketchbook in hand.
“Riley,” he said brightly. “Just who I wanted to see. Love the heels, ‘cuz they let me know you’re coming. Never change.”
Riley came to a stop, looking between Mal and the sketchbook. “I don’t intend to. Um. What is it that I can help you with?”
“I wanted you to take a look at this sketch,” Mal said casually. “You’re Irish, right? Or at least partially Irish? I figured maybe you had some experience in Celtic knot tattoos. My client wants to get this Celtic knot cross done, and I was wondering if I was on the right track.” Mal handed her his sketchbook, open to his current project. Hesitantly, Riley looked down at it. She had some experience with Celtic tattoos, but not tons. Most of her knowledge was theoretical. She knew the fundamentals of all the most popular ones, but the finer details were often lost on her.
Mal’s design, as far as she could tell, was solid. The lines were even, the interlocking loops connected, and there was real attention to detail, even in the busiest places. He’d woven in client-specific elements without disrupting the flow of the knotting, and the spacing looked even.
“Are you going for black and white or color?” Riley asked.
“Color,” Mal said. “He wants kind of subdued, natural colors, which I’m cool with. I think I’ll need to pay attention to shading and skin breaks to make something like that pop, though, if all the colors are complementary. What do you think?”
He was asking her for advice, Riley realized. It felt so strange that a professional would be coming to her for help. She didn’t think she was that good.
Now, after Giovanni and Ben and Mal had said otherwise, she was starting to believe she was mistaken.
Her hands tightened on the sketchbook and she stared at the design, imagining how she’d color it. Vibrant greens, yellows, and blues. If he wanted subdued colors, careful shading would be necessary. The design could be simple and beautiful at the same time.
“Make sure you’re bringing in a strong light source,” she said. “It’s going to be essential to making sure you get that contrast in. I’d put some yellow in with your green to make it pop, and see what he thinks about blue. I know blue is not the best color to work with, but….”
“No, it’s cool. I really appreciate it.” Mal grinned. “Thanks, Riley. So the design itself is good?”
“If you can translate what you’ve got on paper onto someone’s body, it’s great.” She smiled. “Good work.”
“Awesome.” Mal’s grin grew. “Gonna draw up the transfer, then. Thanks again for your help. I really appreciate it.”
Mal returned to his room and Riley went on her way. The solitude in the back room with the quiet hum of the autoclave gave her the space to think.
There was a lot she suddenly needed to reevaluate about her life, and the only way she was going to get it done was if she had some peace and quiet to think. She wanted to believe that Giovanni was only being so nice to her because he was interested in bringing her back to bed, but with Ben and Mal chiming in about her prowess, she couldn’t keep believing that was his only reason.
Giovanni was a good guy, and he was trying to do what was best for her, she realized. In his own quiet ways, he was playing his cards to try to set her up for success.
Riley’s mind drifted to the queen of hearts on his thigh, and she blushed.
Thorn Tattoo wasn’t the work experience she’d been expecting, but the more time went on, she realized that it might just be the life experience she so desperately needed.
17
Giovanni
Riley was avoiding him. Every time Giovanni headed her way, she perked her head and hurried to be somewhere else. At the end of the day, she grabbed her purse and rushed out the door before even Mal and Jaime had left. Every day until that point, Riley had stayed behind to help with cleanup and to supervise balancing the till.
It was the lead-up to rejection, Giovanni realized with mild dread. Riley was too afraid to continue tattooing on a regular basis, and if she didn’t fill in that spot they so desperately needed, then Giovanni had no idea how the hell they were going to keep Thorn Tattoo open. The workshops were going well, but it meant he needed extra help around the shop. If Riley wasn’t willing to pitch in and tattoo, even when she was able to, they’d reached an impasse.
He didn’t want to fire her, but the business was bleeding. If she wasn’t going to help patch up its wounds, then she was part of the problem.
All of it felt underhanded, and it tore Giovanni’s heart in two. He’d seen the joy on her face in the middle of an inking, and he knew she loved it. The warm smile, the softness in her eyes, and the confidence in her hand were physical manifestations of the elation he felt whenever he put needle to skin. But Giovanni couldn’t ask her simply to get over the trauma from her past. It was clear her relationship with her parents was strained, if not non-existent, and she’d lost her best friend well before her time.
Amanda Fucking Tate. Of all the people she could have trained under. He remembered her from a couple tattoo cons, she’d been completely detached preferring to concentrate on her canvases than socialize with anyone. The fact that she’d apprenticed Riley was huge. It meant that she’d seen something in her and encouraged her. T
oo bad her fucking father had to ruin it. Giovanni couldn’t even consider how big Riley would have been now if she’d continued rather than quitting.
Granted, then, he never would have met her. Touched her. Tasted her. The woman was perfect and she didn’t even know it.
Giovanni couldn’t blame her for being afraid to tattoo, but he couldn’t keep overlooking the facts. Since she’d arrived, Riley had told him he needed to stop being so impulsive and emotional, that keeping his mind on business and profits would serve him better. Now that insistence was her downfall. Giovanni needed all hands on deck, and Riley was shying away from doing her part.
It was a tough choice, a damn tough choice, and it wasn’t one he was going to make easily.
Giovanni left his office to help Mal and Jaime close up shop. They’d been tattooing until the end, and there was still cleanup to do. An extra hand would go a long way.
As they scrubbed and disinfected and capped ink in silence, Mal looked Giovanni’s way and frowned a little, something obviously on his mind. Giovanni looked at him, busy wiping down the client chair. “What is it?”
“Is Riley going to tattoo?” Mal asked. “The girl’s a fucking genius with a needle. Hell, I’m jealous.”
“I want her to,” Giovanni said. “But in the end, it’s up to her. I can’t force her hand either way, but I’m hoping she comes around. The shop needs her. If she doesn’t….”
“No.” Mal stopped what he was doing to glower at Giovanni. “I know that tone. You’re not thinking about letting her go over this, are you?”
“The final decision is Antonio’s.” Giovanni grit his jaw. It sounded like Mal was accusing him of this, as if Giovanni wanted it to happen. If Thorn Tattoo were doing better, he would have kept Riley on in a heartbeat. Anyone with eyes could tell she loved what she did and she was passionate about the shop and its success.
The problem was money. The problem was always money.
“Fuck, Gio!” Mal narrowed his eyes. “She’s a good employee and she’s done a lot for the shop. Without her, we wouldn’t have the workshops. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, and she’s talented, and—”
“You don’t need to argue her case. I know all the details already,” Giovanni growled. Mal backed down immediately. “It’s not a decision I want to make, but it’s what’s best for the shop. Since Riley got here, she’s been on my back about doing what’s best for the business. If we want to keep our doors open, I have to get my head around the financial side. This is the only wise financial move I can make.”
“It sucks, man,” Mal murmured. “I didn’t really like her when she first came in, but she’s grown on me. I think she has a lot of potential, and I wish you’d keep her on. I know it’s out of your hands, but….”
“I’ll see what Antonio says.” Giovanni didn’t want to discuss Riley’s job security any more. “I’m meeting up with him later. When it boils down to it, it’s his decision to make. All I can do is ask him for guidance and see what he says.”
Managing Thorn Tattoo gave Giovanni freedom, but not as much as he would have liked. Independence was an illusion. The ball was in Antonio’s court, and Giovanni had to wait to see what his next move would be.
It wrecked him on the inside.
There was so much he wanted to change, and so much he wished was different. Riley didn’t deserve this kind of treatment. She had a bright future, if only she’d let herself reach for it. Giovanni would rather leave and give her his spot than force her out.
All of it was a mess.
“Low,” Mal muttered. “She deserves better.”
“I know she does,” Giovanni snarled, anger peaking again. He didn’t need Mal reminding him of his shortcomings. More than anything, he wanted Riley to be happy. The woman had swept into his life like a hurricane, bested him in ways he’d never imagined she was capable of, and then burned out like a candle that shone too bright. “Drop it, Mal. I’m done talking about it. It is what it is.”
Angry, Giovanni stalked across the room to grab a tray of tools that needed a run in the autoclave. On his way, he failed to notice a slick of slipped ink on the floor. One second he stormed toward the tools that needed to be sterilized, and the next he was toppling backward as he lost all traction.
With a startled grunt, he tried his best to turn himself around and land on his front instead of his back. In the process, Giovanni reached out a hand to brace himself. The second he hit the ground, he knew it was a mistake. The full weight of his body smashed down on his wrist, and his whole hand snapped back at an unnatural angle as the rest of his body pinned it.
He roared as blinding pain shot up his arm and heated his blood. The feeling was unbearable, like millions of shards of jagged glass were digging into his wrist and arm at once. Nerve endings on fire, his whole body started to tense as pain washed through him. Giovanni barely found the strength to roll over and clutch his injured wrist to his chest. It was still bent at an unnatural angle, and he couldn’t move it.
“Holy shit,” Mal gasped. He dropped to Giovanni’s side and looked him over. “Holy shit, your wrist! Gio!”
“I can fucking see my wrist!” Giovanni hissed between clenched teeth. “I need a fucking doctor, Mal, not your casual observations.”
“It has to be broken.” Mal staggered to his feet. “Shit. Do you think you can stand? I’ll drive you to the hospital, but you’ve gotta be able to get to your feet first. There’s no way I can lift you.”
All Giovanni wanted to do was lie on the floor and scream through the pain, but he knew he had to suck it up. Without directly replying to Mal, he rose to his feet, wobbling. Mal reached out and supported him from beneath his arms. Even the slightest movement sent white-hot waves of pain through Giovanni’s arm, and every step was agony.
Teeth clenched, eyes shut tight, he took in a rattling breath and tried to speak normally. “I’m gonna need your help to get to the door. It fucking hurts.”
“It has to be broken,” Mal repeated himself, panic in his voice. “Hell, Gio, it’s your right hand. What the hell are you going to do? We need you around the shop to tattoo. You can’t do that with a broken wrist.”
Life couldn’t get any more complicated. Giovanni’s panic immediately turned into rage, but he channeled it out through choppy exhalations. He was one more idiotic remark from blowing his lid.
“No more shop talk. No more Riley talk. The only talk I want to hear is how you’re going to help me get up those stairs and into your car so you can drive me to the hospital.”
“You got it, boss,” Mal said. The rebuke snapped him back to his senses, and he guided Giovanni across the floor and up the stairs.
If his wrist was broken, he wasn’t going to be able to tattoo. They’d lose significant income from canceled appointments, ruining their financial quarter. It was going to take a miracle to save Thorn Tattoo now. Giovanni squeezed his eyes shut and did his best to keep from exploding with anger.
Anger with himself, anger with Antonio, and anger with the circumstances that made Riley believe she wasn’t good enough.
Fate had spoken, and there was no getting out of it. The end was coming. Thorn Tattoo was finished.
18
Giovanni
The lock clicked as Giovanni worked the door open and let himself in. Less than twelve hours ago, he’d handed the keys to Mal and instructed him to lock the door, and he’d sat the rest of the night in the ER, waiting to see a doctor who could splint his wrist and wrap it.
There wasn’t any point in going home. Not now. The shop was set to open in four hours, and Giovanni still had a lot to think about. The quarter was ending soon, and they were in desperate shape. Something needed to change, and he had precious little time to figure out what it would be.
Giovanni made his way down the stairs and to the back of the shop, destined for the office. He planned to go over Riley’s notes and suggestions and try to piece something together, but with his wrist officially broken and wrapped in a c
ast, there were few plausible options.
Before Giovanni made it to the office, he came to a sudden stop and listened. The shop was supposed to be silent, but in the distance, he heard someone speaking. Who the hell else had keys?
“One of the toughest things to learn for new tattoo artists is how to properly handle the machine.” Riley’s voice broke the silence and Giovanni’s jaw dropped. What was she doing there? “You need to angle the machine so that the needle penetrates at an angle. If you let the needle plunge in perpendicular to the skin, you’ll find that the ink seeps out naturally, and when the tattoo heals, much of the color will be lost. What you’re aiming for is a forty-five degree angle, which can seem counter-intuitive at first. At any greater angle than that, you risk blowing out your outline.”
Giovanni followed the sound of her voice to the back of the shop. She was set up in The News’ old room, back facing the swinging doors. She didn’t notice as he entered.
“It’s like learning to hold a brush, or how to apply pressure with a shading pencil. All it takes is a little practice.”
This morning her hair was swept up in a loose bun, like she had just rolled out of bed. The summer dress she wore was light and flowed from the hips down but was tight in the bodice and showed off her tight waist and the swell of her breasts. Giovanni’s eyes traced down the zipper running along her spine, remembering how tight and perky her ass had been. Riley was the most physically flawless woman he’d ever seen. The longer they spent together, the more he realized he would never change his mind about it.
“So to get that exact angle, you’ll want to hold the machine like this…” Riley turned to pick the machine up from the table, but jerked away and gasped. Giovanni figured she’d seen him out of the corner of her eye, so he stepped forward. The show was over.
“You were doing a great job,” he said. “Sounds just like the material I was supposed to cover in tonight’s workshop.”