Page 22 of Ink & Desire

“I’m a good judge of character,” Jessie says. “Sometimes.”

I eye her at that muttered word. “Sometimes?”

She shrugs. “Better than I used to be.”

That’s the closest she ever comes to talking about her past. Cryptic comments that lead to more questions than answers. I’m about to ask her what she means by that when I hear the bell over the front door open and Noah call out a greeting.

“I guess we’ll find out if you’re right,” I mutter as I wrap up my sandwich and put it in the fridge.

“I think this could be a good thing,” Jessie says. “We need some help around here. You work too hard. Having someone to handle the simple, daily stuff could help lighten your load a little. I know how much you hate being in that office.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “Why are you so nosy?”

“Perceptive,” she corrects. “And it’s obvious to anyone who knows you. Noah can see it, too.”

“Noah can see what?” Noah asks as he enters the room.

“That he likes tattooing but hates everything else,” Jessie says.

“I don’t hate it,” I mutter.

“Oh, yeah,” Noah says. “I just figured that was your normal crankiness, though.”

“I’m not cranky,” I snap, making them both laugh. Taking a breath, I will my voice into a semblance of calm. “What? I’m not.”

Jessie pats me on the shoulder. “Of course not.”

“I hate you both,” I say, making my way to the door that leads back to the front of the shop.

“No, you don’t,” Jessie says.

“You love us,” Noah says at the same time.

“Feels more like a hostage situation,” I mutter.

I ignore their laughter and teasing as I go greet my next client. He’s a little early, but I don’t mind. Focusing on work will take my mind off my latest predicament. At least, that’s what I hope will happen. Instead, I keep seeing Avery’s face when she realized I changed my mind. Her expression had been a mix of shock and confusion. But behind that, there had been excitement. She hadn’t quite smiled, but I could tell she wanted to. And for some reason that makes me feel good. Which pisses me off.

Maybe Noah and Jessie are right, and I am just a cranky asshole. Not that they’d called me an asshole. No, only Avery had done that. Several times, in fact. The memory almost makes me laugh. She’d also called me adick. Not that I can fault her for hurling insults at me. She was right, after all. I’ve been nothing but an asshole to her. But she’d deserved it. At least in the beginning. I can’t really justify my actions last night at the club. I’m still not sure what came over me.

Seeing her in that red dress had short-circuited something in my brain and my primitive side had taken over. I’d felt an overwhelming need to possess her. To show her that she was powerless against me if I chose. Not that I would ever force myself on her, or anyone. But she didn’t need forcing. She’d been completely willing, even if she had fought against her attraction to me.Fuck.Now I’m back to thinking about what it would be like to have her. That’s the last thing I need to be thinking about. She’s going to be my employee. And I don’t fuck my employees. Hell, I don’t even allow workplace relationships. It’s one of the rules. So, I need to stop thinking with my dick and focus on the best way to properly train Avery in the shortest amount of time. The sooner I get her out of Elemental Ink, the better for my sanity.

I spend most of the nearly two hours that I’m tattooing trying to brainstorm a strategy for training an apprentice as fast as possible. Then, I try to think of ways to make her quit as soon as possible. That would get her out of my hair and get me off the hook, right? But that would probably just send her running to Custom Skin and Matt-Fucking-Young. Which is the whole reason I’d agreed to take her on in the first place. Running her offwon’t work. I can’t pawn her off on Noah. He’s good, but he’s still a little green. I’ve got about 5 years’ experience on him. Besides, he has a wife and kids at home and no time to take on training someone. It wouldn’t be fair of me to even ask him. I got myself into this mess. It’s up to me to deal with the consequences.

When I finish with my last client for the night, my hands, wrists, and neck ache. All I want is to go home to my apartment and sit on my tiny balcony with a cold beer. But Avery is coming on Monday, and I need to have a plan for what her apprenticeship will look like. Most tattoo apprenticeships last years. I’m not sure Avery knows that. Does she think this is something she can pick up in a few months and be good at? Just because she’s a decent artist doesn’t mean she’ll be good at tattooing. I need to make it clear to her that if she wants me to train her, it’s going to be a long commitment. I don’t want to devote time and energy into training someone who isn’t committed to it.

Sitting at my desk, I pull out a pen and paper and start making a list of rules and expectations. Most of them are the same as the ones Jessie, Noah and I already follow. But I add a few more that are more specific to what I’ll require of an apprentice. She needs to know that it’s probably going to be months before she’s allowed to use a tattoo machine. Even then, it won’t be on human skin. I won’t risk my name and the shop’s reputation by letting an untrained artist fuck up someone’s tattoo.

After an hour, I’ve added more than a dozen more items to my list. And I still think I’m missing some things. I’ve never trained anyone, and it’s been years since my own apprenticeship. Things are constantly changing in this business, so I don’t even know what I might be forgetting. Opening my laptop, I do an internet search for tattoo apprenticeships and skim through a few websites, making more notes as I go.

By the time I’m satisfied that my list isn’t missing anything important, it’s late and I’m exhausted. Jessie and Noah left hours ago, so the shop is silent and empty. I should go home and get some rest. I have three clients tomorrow that are going to take up most of my day. Not to mention the dozen or so other little things I need to do around the shop. I reach for the list I made, but the shop’s phone rings, breaking the silence. I flinch slightly at the shrill sound before glancing at the receiver. I immediately recognize the number, but I’m not sure why my sister would be calling the shop and not my cell. I reach for the phone to answer as it rings a second time.

“Henley, what’s up?”

Instead of answering my question, she asks one of her own. “Why are you still at work?”

I smile. “Someone has to keep this place running.”

“It doesn’t always need to be you,” she says.

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