Badd Business

by Jasinda Wilder

  Remington, having tied Mom’s gear down in the bed of her truck, slapped the side of it. “So, where to, ladies?”

  I glanced at Mom. “Are you serious about this?”

  Mom’s grin was infectiously happy. “It’s something I’ve thought about since I was a little girl. I just…I’d never do it alone.”

  Rem’s eyes widened. “What are we talking about, here?”

  I jumped up and down excitedly. “Mom and I are getting matching hand tattoos.”

  He staggered backward. “You…what?” He straightened with a grin. “So all that secrecy and hiding was all for nothing?”

  “Shut up,” I muttered. “What the hell do you know?”

  He raised his hands. “Absolutely nothing. I’m just happy for you.” He indicated his truck, parked a block or so away. “We can all pile into my truck.” He frowned at me. “Although, if this is a special mother-and-daughter thing, you guys should go together and we can catch up later.”

  Mom patted him on the cheek. “You’re sweet, Remington.” She headed toward his truck. “You’re coming. I’ll need something pretty to look at while my daughter is stabbing me with a needle.”

  He rubbed the back of his head, chuckling. “Well, that I can do.”

  Mom eyed him. “You could take your shirt off?” She glanced at me. “I’m assuming the rest of him is as pretty as his face.”

  “Mom!” I shouted. “What’s gotten into you?”

  She just cackled. “You’re not the only one who’s been holding things back, girlie.”

  “Well you being a freak about my boyfriend—who’s only officially been my boyfriend for, like, half an hour…that part you could keep to yourself.”

  Mom just laughed at me. “So when you said it was new, you really weren’t kidding.”

  “We’re still figuring it out, to be honest.”

  We got in the truck, Mom choosing the back seat before I could say otherwise, and Rem headed toward Ink’s parlor.

  “What’s to figure out?” Mom asked. She whacked Rem on the shoulder. “You love her or not?”

  Remington shifted uncomfortably.

  “MOM!” I said, panicking. “Seriously?”

  She just sighed. “It’s not that hard, you know.” She leaned forward between the seat, elbows on the console. “Remington. Do you want my daughter to be happy, even if you had to sacrifice something of yourself to make it happen?”

  Remington’s reply was immediate. “Yes.”

  “If you thought it would be what my daughter needed to be happy, would you walk away?”

  “As an absolutely last resort? Yeah, I would.”

  “Is there anyone who could compete with her for your attention and affection?”

  “Not a fuckin’ chance.”

  She patted him on the shoulder. “You love her.”

  “I suppose so.” He grinned at me. “Subtle as a sledgehammer, your mom.”

  I just huffed. “You’re impossible. You both are.” I rested my hand on his. “You don’t have to say it, Rem. We’re not there yet.”

  He shrugged. “I ain’t afraid of it.” He laughed. “Well, okay…I am, a little. It’s a lot really fast.”

  Mom snorted. “Kids these days. Knowing you love someone isn’t the scary part. When you have kids together and realize you’re bound to each other for life no matter what else happens? That’s scary.”

  “Mom,” I hissed. “Stop.”

  “What?” she asked, cackling again. “I’m just tellin’ the truth.”

  Rem patted my hand. “Relax, June-bug. I don’t scare that easy.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “I told you—Ink is the only one who can call me that. We are not there yet.”

  He frowned. “But I called you June last night and you were fine with it.”

  I blushed, looking out the window to cover it. “Yeah, well…that was different.”

  He caught on, and just grinned. “Oh. Got it.”

  Mom covered a laugh with a fake cough, pretending to be absorbed in something in her lap.

  “Oh, stop, Mom.” I sighed. “Like I said earlier—I’m an adult and it’s none of your business.”

  She just shook her head. “I didn’t say anything.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t hear it.” I glanced at my phone, and swore. “Shit! I have to call Daniel!”

  That was a tough conversation—a much-needed one, but difficult. I’d started dressing to show off my tattoos, and he hadn’t said anything, but I’d felt his speculative gaze and had seen the questions in his eyes. So, when I called to say I had to take the afternoon off, he surprised me.

  “You’re quitting, aren’t you?” he asked, cutting off my explanation.

  I sighed. “Yes. Not right away—I’ll give you proper notice, but I just—”

  His voice was soft and understanding. “You are a wonderful person, Juneau, and I’ve loved having you work for me, but it has been obvious from the start that your heart is not in the law.” He spoke over my protestations. “I’ll consider this your notice. You just let me know when your last day is. Whatever you end up doing, Juneau, I truly do wish you the best of luck.”

  I sniffed. “Thanks, Daniel.”

  We reached the parlor, then, and I said my goodbye to Daniel; Rem hopped out of the truck, opened the door for me and then my mom, helping her down with those perfect manners he could apparently turn on and off at will. I led the way into the shop, Rem behind me and Mom behind him—Mom was small enough that she was mostly hidden behind Remington.

  Ink was tattooing a large, bald, muscular man with tattoos all over his bare upper body. “Be with you in a minute,” Ink said without looking up. “I don’t do walk-ins, so if you want a tattoo, leave your email on the pad of paper by the register and I’ll get back to you.”

  “Just us, Ink,” I said.

  He looked up then, briefly. “Hey there, June-Bug. Rem—how are you, buddy?” Ink went back to the tattoo then, not seeing Mom, who was still obscured by Remington’s bulk.

  Mom slid out from behind him and stood next to me with her arms crossed. “No walk-ins, huh? Not even for your Aunt Judy?”

  Ink jerked the gun away from his client, eyes widening. “Aunt Judy.” He blinked in shock. “I…what?”

  The client frowned up at Ink. “Yo, Ink. I got a meeting to get to. Can we finish the session?”

  Ink shot him an irritated glance. “Yeah, yeah. You’re gonna have to give me a second—my aunt’s never been in here before, so this is a big deal for me.”

  The client rolled his eyes. “That meeting is to secure a half-million-dollar contract—that’s a big deal. I’m paying you here, bud.”

  Ink lifted an eyebrow. “I’ll cut your bill in half if you shut the fuck up and let me say hello to my auntie without your bitch-ass griping. How’s that sound?” He indicated the tattoo he was working on. “Good luck getting anyone else to match my style, so don’t piss me off.”

  The client harrumphed. “You’re lucky you’re the best tattoo artist I know, or I’d tell you to fuck off.”

  Ink slugged him on the shoulder, and I realized the two were friends, and this was part of their banter—a guy thing, I supposed. “I’ll get you done in a minute, Bry. No worries.”

  The client stood up and stretched. “I need a smoke break anyway.” He exited out the back door, tugging a flattened pack of cigarettes from his hip pocket, flicking a lighter as he toed a brick in the doorway to keep it from closing and locking.

  Ink set the gun on the tray and stripped off his gloves, standing up to tower over Mom. “Auntie Judy. You are, no lie, the absolute last person I expected to see today.” He glanced at my exposed tattoos, and then back at Mom, and his eyes widened to saucers. “No shit! You guys talked?”

  I shrugged. “You may or may not have been right when you said you thought she would be more understanding than I was giving her credit for.”

  “Well no shit, cuz. Don’t you know by now I’m almost
never wrong?” He wrapped Mom in a giant bear hug. “I been telling her for years to just get it all out there with you.”

  Mom patted Ink on the shoulder. “I know. You’re a good boy, Ink.”

  He growled in irritation. “Make me sound a like a dog, Auntie.”

  She just laughed, and then glanced at me. “You want to tell him, or should I?”

  Ink frowned. “Tell me what?”

  I grinned, only barely holding in my excitement. “Mom and I are getting matching tattoos.”

  Ink was stunned silent for a long moment. “Nuh-uh. Say that shit again.”

  Mom snorted. “You kids and your cursing.” She smiled at Ink. “You remember your great-grandma Irene?”

  Ink nodded, his eyes still wide. “She made the best cookies.”

  “You remember her hand tattoos?”

  Ink stared up at the ceiling, thinking. “Yeah.” He shuffled over to the counter,

  rummaged around for a scrap of paper and a pencil, and then hunched over it, sketching. His huge round shoulders shifted as he drew, the tattoos on his bare torso seeming to move on their own. After a few minutes, he came back over, showing us his drawing. It was of a pair of hands, a quick but accurate sketch, incredibly detailed considering how fast he’d done it. The hands were old, wrinkled, small and delicate but strong: Grandma’s hands, Mom’s hands, my hands. The drawing depicted lines and angles and shapes across the fingers between the first and second knuckles, with similar lines banded around the wrists.

  “There it is, best I can remember.”

  Mom traced the lines on the fingers in the sketch. “That’s it—that’s exactly how those tattoos looked.” She looked at me. “Just like that?”

  Ink nodded. “I’ll get the supplies. You want it old school, or with the gun?”

  “I don’t care,” Mom said, smiling at me. “I just want you to do it.”

  Ink’s eyes couldn’t go any wider, but somehow they did. “You guys really talked.”

  I nodded, smiling—I couldn’t remember having ever been happier than I was in that moment. “Yeah, we did.”

  “So…I’ve got a new apprentice, then?”

  My grin widened. “Yeah. You do. I still have to tell Daniel when my last day will be…but yeah, I can’t wait to start.”

  Rem cleared his throat. “Actually, I was wondering if I could log in some hours too?”

  Ink chuckled. “Going from a one-man show to three of us, huh?” He shot Rem a sly smirk and reached under the counter, pulling out a thick packet of paperwork. “Good thing I saw this coming, yeah?” He pulled out another stack, and handed it to me. “For you, cuz.”

  Remington took the stack and thumbed through it, then sat back and eyed Ink. “I had another thought.”

  Ink twirled the pencil in his fingers. “What’s that?”

  “There’s a retail space for rent downtown, just down the street from Badd Kitty. It’s a prime location, right near the heaviest tourist traffic. It’s more than I can swing by myself, but if there were three of us…” He shrugged, shuffling the stack of papers to align the corners. “Could be fun…and profitable.”

  Ink sat down in his own tattoo chair, fiddling with the jar of ink. “Downtown, huh?”

  Rem nodded. “It’d need some renovation, but my brothers and my cousins and I are good at that shit, and it’d give June and I time to finish our apprenticeships. Then we could open for business together, as three artists sharing a studio.” He gestured at Ink. “You’re a hell of a selling point, though, so I was thinking we’d just call it…Ink.”

  My cousin laughed. “You’ve got this all figured out, huh?”

  Rem laughed. “I guess I do.”

  Ink narrowed his eyes but I could tell, knowing him as well as I did, that he was just playing with Rem—he’d decided already. “How do you know I want to leave here? What if I like just being my own boss?”

  Rem waved a hand dismissively. “Nahhh…you’re bored and you know it.” He grinned. “Plus, you’d spend time around my cousins, and I think you’d like them. There’s something about them. Beautiful women just seem to fall from the sky when they’re around and, if you’re lucky, you could catch one of your own.”

  Ink snorted a laugh. “You’re crazy. Ain’t no pretty lady want to mess with all this.” He gestured at himself.

  Rem shrugged a shoulder. “You never know, man. Women are funny that way. They’ll surprise you.” He grinned at me as he said this.

  Ink’s client came back in just then, trailing smoke from his nostrils. “All right. You ready, Ink?”

  Ink slapped the arms of his chair as he stood up, moving to his rolling stool. “Sure thing, Bryan. Siddown, and we’ll finish this fucker.”

  Mom whacked him as he shoved his hands into gloves. “You watch your language, young man.”

  Ink ducked his head, shying away. “Yes, Auntie. Sorry.”

  Bryan, the client, just laughed; I knew he was laughing at the idea that Ink wasn’t big enough or bad enough to ignore his aunt Judy.

  We all sat around watching Ink work, chatting amiably. It took Ink another forty-five minutes to finish Bryan’s piece—a wolf howling at a full moon, all done in grayscale on the back of Bryan’s left shoulder. He examined it after Ink announced it was done, and nodded, pleased.

  “Good shit, Ink, as always.”

  Ink just nodded, taping the wrap over the fresh tattoo. “My pleasure.” He patted the other shoulder. “You got any more work you’re gonna want done?”

  Bryan laughed. “You know it. I got an idea I’m working on. I’ll be back in a few months.”

  Ink grinned. “In a few months, I may be at a brand new place downtown.”

  “No shit? That’d be a hell of a lot more convenient. You being way the hell out here is annoying. Your work is worth it, but I know a lot of people who’d love it if you were more centrally located.”

  Rem pointed at Ink. “See? It’s a great idea.”

  Ink wrote up Bryan’s bill, settled it, and by then Mom was already sitting in the chair. Ink laughed. “I gotta clean up first, Auntie. Sanitization procedures and sh—and stuff.”

  “Fine, fine.” She smiled at me as she vacated the chair so Ink could clean it. “I can be your first real customer.”

  I laughed. “I’m not licensed yet, for one, and for another you’d have to pay me to be a customer and I’d never accept your money.”

  Ink went through the sterilization process, and then I used a marker to copy Ink’s sketch of our grandmother’s tattoos onto Mom’s hand. Then, with a long look at Mom, I put on gloves, picked up the gun, and started work.

  Three hours later, Mom and I had matching tattoos across our hands, the traditional design ringing our fingers and wrapping around our wrists.

  Mom admired hers, laughing. “Your father is going to go apoplectic.”

  I paled. “He’s going to kill me!”

  She just laughed all the harder. “Nonsense. His grandmother had them too. He’ll be fine, once he gets over his shock.”

  I hugged her. “You really have no idea what this means to me, Mom.”

  She tapped my nose with a finger. “Baby, I love you. I want you to be happy.” She flashed her hand at me. “If this makes you happy, then do it. I only ever wanted you to have the options I didn’t, honey. That’s all.”

  I fought the tears, but lost. “I’m grateful, Mom. I always have been. But this is who I am.”

  Mom sighed, wiping at my face. “It always has been, sweetheart. You never had to hide it, you silly girl.”

  Well…I won’t. Not anymore.

  15

  Remington

  6 months later

  * * *

  “Are you sure, June?” I asked, for the fifth time.

  She sighed. “Yes, Rem. I’m sure. You’ve already done this on my forearms—both of them.” She smiled at me. “I trust you.”

  I let out a breath, and then dipped the specialized needle into the ink jar. “Okay, here w
e go.”

  Juneau was naked, lying on her back on her bed—a new flat sheet was spread across it to catch any potential ink spills. She had her thighs splayed open, which was…distracting, to say the least. I had her leg across my lap, her silk-soft skin under my hands. I’d already outlined the design with a marker—a band circling each thigh just a few inches down from her core. The design was a traditional one, meant to mark fertility and to welcome a child into the world with something beautiful—not that she was pregnant, mind you, but it was a traditional placement for a woman’s tattoo and she’d been wanting me to do it on her for months, now—ever since we’d been officially licensed, in fact. I’d wanted more time to practice before I tried working somewhere so delicate and intimate. Especially on my girlfriend. I’d practiced professionally, and on Ink, and on my brothers, and my cousins—and they’d all let me practice using the stick-and-poke method Ink and Juneau had taught me, and now, finally, six months after being licensed as a tattoo artist, I felt confident enough in my ability to give Juneau the tattoo she wanted, where she wanted it, using the traditional method, without fucking it up.

  It was a hell of a rush, to be honest—having all this beautiful, perfect skin as a blank canvas.

  I focused on the design I’d marked out, putting the rest of my thoughts out of my head, centering on the art, on the process. Dip the needle in the ink, poke, just to the right depth, just hard enough. Dot by dot, patiently.

  I lost myself in it, absorbed in the process of turning the design into beautiful reality. Through it all, Juneau was still, quiet, and thoughtful. Just watching, occasionally wincing, but never making a sound. When I finally had to take a break to shake out my cramping hand, she ran her fingers through my hair.

  “You’re pretty amazing, you know that?” she said, her voice quiet and tender.

  I grinned. “Yeah, I know.”

  She huffed, rolling her eyes, but had to work to suppress her grin. “And so humble and modest.”

  I brushed imaginary lint off my shoulder. “Yeah, well, it’s hard to be modest when you’re me.” She tried to lean forward to look at her tattoo, but I pressed a hand against her stomach to keep her down. “Ah-ah-ah. Not yet. I’m almost done.”