Page 42 of Unspoken Rules

Fucking Chris.

I stand there for a while, staring up at the sign like an idiot. I finally shake my head and turn to walk away.

“Can I help you?” A guy pushes open the door, putting the stopper at the bottom of it. He’s dressed casually in jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt, tattoos covering his arms and neck. There are a few on his face too, and his hair is neon pink.

“Don’t think so, but thanks,” I answer politely.

“Saw you standing out here for a while. You sure?” he asks, raising a brow that’s pierced in three spots.

“My friend told me a new place opened over here and they might be looking for a graphic designer. Didn’t mention it was a tattoo shop,” I say, letting out a laugh.

The guy smirks. “You ever thought of tattooing?”

I shake my head. “Not really, but even if I had, I’m looking for something paid.”

“You can draw?”

“Painting is more my thing, but yeah.”

“Come in,” he says, waving me in. I look past him, inside the shop. He chuckles. “I don’t bite, and I’m not offering candy. You’ll be safe.”

I huff out a laugh. Well, I’ve got nothing better to do. I step inside, the scent of antiseptic hitting my nose, the loud buzz of a tattoo gun sending a shiver across my skin. I don’t have any tattoos. Maybe if I had money, I would. I’m not the biggest fan of needles, but I like art.

The space is open, but it’s plain. Not at all what you’d expect a tattoo shop to look like. Though, this is the first time I've been in one, so maybe I’m not the best judge.

“Name’s Troy. You got work you can show me?” he asks, moving around the back of the counter. It’s L-shaped, half of it glass cases with body piercing jewelry inside.

I pull my phone out, open up the album with my work, and hand it over.

Troy whistles as he looks through them. “These are good.” He hands me my phone back. “It isn’t graphic design, but I need my walls painted.” He gestures behind me, and I glance over my shoulder.

“You want me to paint your walls?” I ask skeptically.

He grins. “You ever been in a tattoo shop with plain ass walls like this?”

“Never been in a tattoo shop ever,” I admit.

He shakes his head, seeming amused by my lack of experience in this department.

“The other artist I hired bailed on me last minute, so right now it’s me and Nix back there tattooing more than full time for the next three months. No way in hell am I going to have time to do all this too.”

It wasn’t what I wanted, but it’s something. Troy can clearly see my hesitance.

“You said you wanted something paid. This is paid,” he adds. “It isn’t going to make you a millionaire or anything. I’ve got mouths to feed, but I won’t have you work for free.”

“You’re right,” I say, looking around again. “I just didn’t expect to spend four years in college to get a BFA to paint fucking walls.”

The guy smirks. “Which is why you should’ve been a tattoo artist. You’d be getting paid bank by now, my friend. Come look at this shit,” he says, waving me over to the glass case on the end. There are photo books on top of it with pictures of tattoos. He grabs one from the end, flipping all the way to the front.

“This shit?” He points to a photo as he slides it my way. “This is the stuff I love doing.”

“Looking at boobs?” I question, taking in the photos of women's breasts.

“Man.” He shakes his head, tsking. “Those are fake. The woman had a double mastectomy and had to get them removed. She got implants but had no nipples. So I tattooed them on for her.”

My eyes widen, and I get a closer look. “Damn, I thought they were real.”

“Exactly. And look at these.” He flips a few pages, showing the before and after of someone’s arm who clearly cut a lot. The scars are transformed into tiger stripes, and you can’t even tell scars marred the skin beneath it.

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