by Leslie North
Antonio sipped at his beer and considered it. Luciano saw the gears turning behind his eyes, and he knew his brother was looking for a flaw in his logic or a way to dismantle Luciano’s argument.
Before Antonio could do it, his phone rang. Luciano recognized the distinct trill—it was the same one Antonio had used the last time Luciano was in town.
With a sigh, Antonio took his phone from his pocket and looked at the screen. In the dim light of the bar, his face was bathed in blue light. The smell of alcohol permeated the air, and the smell of stale beer grew stronger as a group of frat boys stormed past the bar, hollering and hooting.
“What the…” Antonio’s lips tightened. “Luciano? Do you know anything about this?”
“About what?” Luciano asked. Antonio turned the screen of the phone toward him, displaying a message from Ben. Ben was one of the newer artists, and sometimes he was cocky enough that he overstepped his boundaries. Riley had taken him under her wing and been training him, and while the kid was talented, he was still a little too new and brash to be mellow.
Shop is out of blue. Not sure why? Can u please make sure 2 order sum? Thnx.
“Out of blue?” Antonio asked. He set the phone down on the bar counter. “We were scheduled to receive a new shipment of ink two days ago. What happened to it?”
Luciano’s stomach twisted. He remembered Melanie had received the shipment while the rest of them worked, and without consulting their stores in the back, he’d told her to send back the extra blue ink they’d sent. The budget allowed them to stock up on color, but Luciano didn’t like keeping around anymore than they needed. The fresher the stuff they used, the better. He never wanted to be caught using old, faded inks like some shops did. Half of his success came from using fresh, high quality products.
It was why Prismatic Inks was courting him, hoping to buy their way onto his Instagram.
“Shit.”
“What shit?” Antonio asked. He picked the phone up and fired back a quick text to Ben. The kid had balls messaging his brother instead of someone in the shop.
“Luciano?”
“I sent the blue ink back,” Luciano murmured. “I thought we were good on it. The last time I checked, we had more than enough, and so I just assumed—”
“God.” Antonio covered his face with his hand. The disappointment in his voice was plain, and Luciano felt worse than ever. “In business, you never assume, Luciano. Your livelihood depends on your pigments. Without ink, you don’t have tattoos. What else are you going to sell? Caricatures?”
“It was an honest mistake, Antonio,” Luciano shot back. He squared his shoulders, not willing to take the abuse. “It wasn’t like I did it on purpose. I’m head artist. I’m working there, too. The mistakes I make are going to affect me.”
“No, Luc, they affect all of us. Gio asked you to come back to help. This isn’t helping.” Antonio’s face was tight, his emotions under lockdown. Luciano wished he’d lighten up and understand that human error happened. It wasn’t a direct sabotage. “If you can’t tattoo, and the rest of the guys can’t tattoo, then how are we supposed to keep our doors open? We pay for our rent through ink. We need to fix this, and we need to fix this now.”
“I’ve got a hookup,” Luciano muttered. Prismatic Ink was eager to get in his pants, and he assumed that if he called in, they’d go as far as to deliver their wares right to Thorn Tattoo’s doors, so long as he floated along some acknowledgments in the public eye. “I’ll make this right.”
“With whose product?” Antonio asked. He stiffened in his chair. “We order from Spectrum because they offer the best of the best. You know better than any of the other artists do how vital ink is for a good tattoo. Spectrum doesn’t have next day shipping, and they likely won’t even ship to us if all we order is a case of blue. What kind of money are you looking to spend on fixing this error?”
What had started as a great evening out was turning into a disaster. Luciano scowled and downed the rest of his beer. Most nights, he enjoyed savoring it, especially after a long day at work. Now, all he wanted to do was get home. “I’ve got it handled, okay?”
“Why am I suspicious that’s the case?” Antonio fixed him with a hard look. “This isn’t the first time something like this has happened, and you haven’t even been here for a month yet, Luciano. The day we ran out of change? The day you gave Mal the day off without clearing his schedule first? The day you came in late and no one else opening had keys?”
“Listen.” Luciano stood. Downing the rest of his beer left him slightly lightheaded, but he didn’t let that deter him from getting up. “I’m doing the best I can in a situation I’m new to. I’ve never had to manage anything before. I’ve only ever been head artist. You’re asking a lot of me, and I’m doing my best, so cut me some slack. I’ll fix it, okay? I always do. Every single one of those problems, I’ve fixed on my own. You haven’t had to lift a finger. So stop bitching.”
His temper was boiling, but he wasn’t about to explode at his brother. Antonio was concerned about the business. If Luciano were in his shoes, he would be as well.
“It’s all going to be sorted out by tomorrow, okay? That’s all. You need to trust me on this one.”
Antonio said nothing for a long moment, and when he spoke, he did so slowly and with consideration. “I’m not comfortable going away for a weekend at this point. I’m sorry, Luciano. I know you’re doing your best, but the shop needs to make sure that at least one of us is present so that everything continues to run smoothly. I can’t run away from my responsibilities because I feel like it. I need to handle the situation with more maturity than that. Perhaps once Giovanni and Riley return.”
Luciano wasn’t going to take it anymore. He shook his head. “I’m done for tonight. I’ll catch you some other time. I wish you’d respect me more as an independent individual who knows what the fuck he’s doing.”
“And I wish you’d be mature enough to admit when you need help,” Antonio replied sourly.
Luciano shook his head and left. He didn’t even say goodbye. It was clear that Antonio didn’t want him there.
He’d show Antonio he was capable and mature. He’d fix Thorn Tattoo’s problems, as any competent manager should.
Luciano wasn’t irresponsible, and he would own up to his own mistakes.
7
Melanie
Thorn Tattoo was busiest toward the end of the week. Clients who worked nine to five jobs took advantage of the weekend to let their tattoos heal before heading back to work, and while Melanie knew that three days wasn’t nearly enough to fully heal a tattoo, it was enough to acclimatize to carrying around vitamin E cream and slapping the skin instead of scratching at it.
Fridays were always the busiest, but hectic days were usually the most fun. Time flew. But on that particular Friday, the day lagged.
Melanie couldn’t help but feel like Luciano was still upset. When she made her way into the shop just after opening, he was already on the phone and scowling. At first, she figured he was rescheduling a client against her counsel, but as she listened in, she knew something else was going on.
“Yeah, I’d really like to give it a shot.” A pause. “No, just the blue. Lots of it.” Luciano scowled. “I mean, we’ll take the other colors, too, but I’d really love to get my hands on more blue. I’m in my, uh, blue period now. You know artists go through phases. Right now I’m into cool colors, and blue is my favorite.”
What was going on? She sank into her office chair, opened her tablet for the day, and took stock of everything she needed to take care of. On top of making sure Luciano received the proper document for her payroll, she needed to go over his credit card bills, call the real estate agent about the house he was trying to put on the market, and figure out his itinerary for the East Coast Tattoo Society convention so she could adjust his appointments here at the shop. They were still accepting artists, and Melanie needed to weigh the benefits of paying to participate versus the potential m
onetary gains from attending. At this point, Luciano was already riding the crest of his fame. Recognition didn’t mean so much anymore.
“Yeah, that’s fine. It sounds okay. And of course, everything I do with your ink is going on Instagram. We’re getting in some funky pieces soon, and I’m looking forward to creating them with you. Yes, I’ll be tagging you. Yeah. We’re talking pretty big pieces. Intricate stuff. I was thinking some traditional Japanese. I’m thinking a water dragon would look pretty good….”
At least it was work related. Melanie had an inkling that he might even have been talking to Prismatic Ink, the company she’d been trying to get him in touch with for at least a month. It was good to see Luciano taking some initiative. As she worked, she listened to him talk. Sometimes he sounded frustrated, but other times he sounded genuinely happy to be on the phone. Talking shop was good for him. They’d been on the road for too long and come too far without making any connections. Most of the artists they visited city to city were only interested in getting to know Luciano because of the boost in reputation they received in being associated with him. Better recognition meant more money. Melanie understood how it worked.
The old part of her soul, the parts she’d left behind when she’d left the commune in California at seventeen, told her that the world was a shallow place, and that behavior like that was to be expected.
The new part of her soul told her that it was just part of the industry, and that Luciano was surrounding himself with the wrong type of people. Not everyone was only interested in him for the bottom dollar. The artists that called Thorn Tattoo home were proof of that. All of them bore certain quirks, but none of them were terrible people.
Luciano only needed to find his tribe. Her parents had always said the same of their family, and although Melanie didn’t agree with most of what they said, she found that piece of advice solid. Wherever life took her, she’d done her best to find the right people to surround herself. A support system was important.
It would take some time before Luciano settled into life back in Vegas, but once he had someone to trust and confide in, Melanie was sure he wouldn’t mind staying. The city had so much to offer.
“Right. So, I can expect to see it by three? That’s phenomenal. Thank you for your quick service.” Luciano drummed his fingers on the desk. “Yep. I’ll be there. Awesome. So, I’ll see you soon. Bye.”
The call ended. With a sigh, he put his phone down, and then pinched the bridge of his nose. Melanie looked up from her work to examine him. His gaze flicked in her direction, and Melanie sank back in her chair and twisted slowly side to side.
“Now that that conversation is over, I need to talk to you,” Luciano said. “You ready?”
“Um, I think so.” Melanie let herself grin the tiniest bit. “Unless it’s bad news. Then I don’t want to hear it.”
“I guess it depends on what you think of it.” Luciano shrugged. “Most people would consider it good news, but I know you’re not most people.”
“Ha, ha.” Melanie rolled her eyes playfully. “Very funny. So, what’s going on? Is there something coming up that I’ve overlooked?”
“No.” Luciano stretched, and as he did, he cracked his back. Stretched out as far as he could go, he craned his neck from side to side, and then settled back into a casual seated position. “I had a talk with Antonio last night, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. Technically, I am the temporary manager at Thorn Tattoo until the lovebirds get home, but I don’t think I’m cut out for that. I don’t have what it takes. I’m more concerned with art, not figures, or inventory, or what the fuck the rest of the staff is doing while I’m busy inking someone.”
“Uh, right.” Melanie settled her arms on her lap and let her gaze trace down his face and to his shoulders. Luciano didn’t look particularly stressed. “So what, then?”
“So it got me thinking that I need someone who is good with details and plans everything to the last detail to step in and do that for me.” Luciano gave her a pointed look. “I want you to step up and replace me as manager at Thorn Tattoo. You worked here before we took to the road and you know everything there is to know about this place. But more than that, you give a shit about what’s happening here and if you don’t know something, then you go out of your way to learn everything you can about it to fix the problem. That’s the kind of person Thorn Tattoo needs.”
Melanie’s lips parted, but she couldn’t find the words to speak. Being Luciano’s personal assistant was a little like being a manager, but taking care of a whole shop? She wasn’t sure she could manage it.
“Mel, I can read your mind,” Luciano said. “I know that you can manage it. Plus, it’ll come with a significant pay raise. I’m not asking you to do this extra work for free.”
“But what about you?” Melanie asked. “We’re trying to sell that house you own, and we still need to make sure the rest of your month is booked correctly, and all of the bills—”
“It’ll be fine.” Luciano reached out and took her hand, and the bottom dropped out of Melanie’s stomach. Luciano rarely touched her, and when he did, it was electric. She pushed her thighs together and hoped he didn’t notice how easily riled she was. “I managed to do all that stuff before I hired you, and I’ll do it again. Right now, the shop needs you more than I do. C’mon.”
To hear that he trusted her with such a large responsibility was humbling, but Melanie saw through Luciano’s plan. The more work he shunted onto other people, the less he had to worry about for himself. The less he worried about, the less he needed to care about when he abandoned Vegas and hit the road again.
He needed to step up, and he needed to take life seriously.
“I can’t.”
“You will,” Luciano said. “I need you. Thorn Tattoo needs you.”
“You can do it just as well as I can,” Melanie insisted. “Probably better, too, since you’re part of the family. The artists here will warm up to you if you give them the chance and demand respect.”
Luciano shook his head. “No. I can’t juggle that and tattooing. This is on you, Mel. I need you to do it.”
It didn’t sound like he was giving her the choice. Melanie crossed her arms and refused to let the frown she felt inside show on her face.
Luciano could shirk all the responsibility he wanted but she’d get him to come around. She was his personal manager, and she knew him better than just about anyone else did.
If there was one person in the world who could get Luciano to realize what his value was, it was her.
Melanie wasn’t going to let him down. Her only hope was that Luciano would realize his worth before Antonio got wind of what she planned to do.
8
Luciano
Melanie was a natural choice to fill in as manager in his absence. Antonio didn’t need to know, and as long as the staff kept their mouths shut and didn’t text Antonio about it directly, Luciano was sure he’d never find out. As long as no one grew suspicious, Luciano considered her rise to manager as non-news.
On her first day at Thorn Tattoo as official manager, Melanie received a shipment of green soap the shop desperately needed, only to carry the boxes the wrong way on her way into the back. The bottom split, the plastic bottles tumbled out, and one of the caps burst off and sprayed liquid soap everywhere. The cleanup took half the day. No matter how much they scrubbed, the soap remained. Not only was Melanie busy with cleanup duty for close to the rest of the day, but she pulled Jill in to help her, and the front suffered for it.
On her second day as manager, Melanie placed an order for the wrong kind of disposable needles. Luciano only caught her mistake because she’d left the invoice on the midsection between their desks. He’d had to call in to the company himself to manually fix the order before it shipped because Melanie had to deal with an upset customer—she’d booked an appointment through Mal’s lunch, and Mal was pissed and cutting the session short.
On the third day, when Melanie ‘acciden
tally’ crashed the computer system and had to call in an IT specialist to get it up and running, bringing operations to a near standstill, Luciano knew that she was doing it all on purpose. The entire two years they’d spent together, Melanie had been mortified of making mistakes. Whatever she did, she did with care and precision. She took the time to do things right. She never jumped into something that might lead to failure.
In three days, she’d done more wrong than he’d seen her do in two whole years.
She was trying to make a point. Luciano knew that she didn’t want the position, and he figured this was her way of proving to him that she was unfit for the job.
It was bullshit. He knew Melanie, and he knew that she was smart, capable, clever, and a quick learner. There was no way she was ill-suited for the job.
If anything, she was too perfect for it.
Luciano had been raised in Vegas, and he was no stranger to games. If she wanted to tempt the odds and bluff her way from competence to incompetence, he knew how to call her out on it. If she could fake it, Luciano could fake it, too.
On Melanie’s fourth day as manager, Luciano used his lunch break to write an email.
Hey Antonio,
It’s been a long time since we wrote to each other. Sorry. You know how it goes. Not really into the whole keeping in touch thing, if only because half the time I’m too scatterbrained, and half the time I’m too lazy.
But today I’ve got something I need to talk to you about. I know you thought hiring Melanie on as shop manager was going to be a good thing, but she’s crashing and burning hard. She’s wasting time, energy, and resources better spent elsewhere. I’m catching her making big mistakes left and right, and I feel like she’s blowing the whole thing off.