She shrugs, standing up from her stool. “Well, now’s your chance.”
Tess proceeds to pull her shirt over her head, and I take a breath. I try to keep my eyes anywhere from where they want to land. There are several small tattoos over her chest and a long trail of butterflies up her side. She points to spot right along her ribcage.
“I need you to finish the color. Walker never got around to fading the rest in and it looks unfinished.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. It looks so beautiful already. I don’t want to mess it up.”
She smiles again, pulling me up from the chair. “You won’t.” When my eyes meet hers, she says, “You’re the only other person I’d ever let do my tattoos. I trust you.”
I run my hand along her side, studying the intricate patterns. Over the years, Walker kept getting better and better. By the time of his death, there was a waiting list a mile long of people wanting him to do their ink. I’m not sure I can do it justice.
I give her a pleading look. “Are you sure you don’t want to just have another professional do it?”
She shakes her head firmly. “No, I want you.”
The way she says that gives me a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’ve never been nervous around her, but for some reason, right now I am. With a sigh, I step out of the way of the chair.
“If you insist.”
Her smug smile confirms she does as she takes a seat in the chair. I move to the small stool beside her and pick up the machine she has set up for me. People always describe doing things they haven’t done in a while like riding a bike. It’s weird to pick something up after such a long time and just fall right back into it like you never left. That’s how I feel right now. There’s a comfort in doing this I didn’t realize I missed.
Resting my hand below her ribcage, I poise the gun at her skin. This is a difficult spot to work with on anyone, let alone a smaller girl. Not a lot of skin to cushion the relentless needle.
“You ready?” I ask.
She nods and takes a breath. When the buzzing of the gun starts, I fall into my zone, carefully bleeding the ink into her skin. I can clearly see the patches he needed to finish and I focus on maintaining the vision he set out for her. I may not have gone to school for art like Mack, but the talent runs in our blood.
After the first hour or so, Tess remains relatively still. When I get to particularly sensitive area, I glance up to see the pain on her face. She grimaces with her eyes squeezed shut and it’s like I can feel it, too.
I run my free hand gently along her stomach. “Just breathe, Bishop,” I say, my voice soft. Her squinted eyes open and she looks at me warmly.
“Don’t worry about me, you’re doing great.”
Her hand comes to rest beside mine and the tips of our fingers thread together. Being close to your canvas is a normal part of this business, but right now with Tess, it feels intimate. Her body is as close to perfection as anything I’ve ever seen and I want to keep it that way.
I keep my eyes focused on what I’m doing so the look in hers doesn’t distract me further.
“I’m glad you made me do this. I really did miss it.”
She gives my hand a squeeze and I feel her chest rise a little. “Me, too,” she breathes. “I always felt like you missed your calling when you didn’t want to go into business with us.”
My heart starts to race a little faster. The real reason why I shied away from it has nothing to do with my passion about tattooing. It lies far deeper and is a conversation for another day. Today I want to do something for her that makes her feel better, not drudge up shit from our past we can’t change now. Instead, I smile up at her.
“I’m working on it. I think I finally found what I’ve been searching for.”
18
The Eye of The Storm
Perry- Now
After the success of yesterday’s tattoo, Tess has convinced me to work with her. It actually didn’t take much convincing. I need to separate myself from my dad at the moment. Even though we never saw eye to eye on many things throughout my life, ever since I got back it’s reached a new level. He probably won’t agree with the decision either. That’s okay with me. I finally feel like this could be something I can be proud of and I hope he sees that.
With one problem under my belt, I need to focus on what’s really pressing at the moment—Mack.
When she transferred to Cornell from Yale last year, I thought everything would be better. I wouldn’t need to worry as much about her without Sean being around. But now she’s dating a new football player. I guess we both stick to things we know.
The game against Yale is this weekend and I need to get down there. The only problem is I’m not supposed to leave state lines during my parole. I could get permission but that takes time, and you need a really good excuse. I can’t exactly say I need to go down there to crack the skull of the guy who got me sent to prison in the first place. They would shoot that idea down sure as shit.
Even though I won’t be working at my dad’s shop full-time anymore, I still have to stick it out until he can find someone to replace me. Not that it’ll be too difficult. I’m pretty sure he always has someone on the back burner in the event that something happens to me—or he decides to fire me. It’s usually the latter.
I’m standing behind the counter, scrolling through the appointment book, when a familiar name catches my eye. Chills run straight through my core as the memory of what happened a couple months ago plays in my head. I need to get out of here.
Panic stricken, I turn to Mark, one of the other guys working with me today. He’s causally sipping his coffee and browsing the sports section of the paper.
“Dude, you need to do me a solid.”
He looks up at me, taking in the serious expression on my face. “Geez, Perry. You look like you seen a ghost. What’s up?”
I run my hand over my head, fidgeting around behind the partition. “I need you to cover for me.” When his eyebrows shoot up, I add, “Just for a few hours.”
Mark closes his paper with a sigh. “Okay, man. I can do that, but you have to promise you’ll come back. We have a full schedule this afternoon and there’s no way I can get it done without you.”
I nod quickly, reaching for my jacket. “Yeah, I’ll be back soon.” I shove my phone in my pocket and turn for the back door. “Thanks, I owe ya one,” I say over my shoulder before it slams shut.
Walking into the rear parking lot, I make quick strides to my car. Usually, I’m not one for dodging people, but this is something I need a little more time to prepare for.
“Going somewhere, Michaels?”
I stop in my tracks at the commanding voice behind me. I take a deep breath before I turn around. I reach into my pocket and pull out a cigarette. “Nope,” I say, lighting it out of the corner of my mouth. “Just taking a break.”
Robby laughs, taking a step forward. “Funny, because it looks to me like you were trying to dip out.” He stops in front of me, sizing me up. “You wouldn’t do that, would you?”
I shake my head, taking a drag. “I’m right here. Say what you got to say.”