Page 8 of Weatherman

The buzz of the tattoo gun mixed with classic AC/DC. Table bent over a client’s shoulder, coloring in an elaborate python coiling around the guy’s arm. The 3D effect was stunning and made Weatherman want something like it. The other piece Table had done for him was very simple, just the words of his college’s motto scripted on his forearm.Levo Oculos Meos In Montes—“I lift my eyes to the mountains.”

“Hey, Weatherman. Bring any rain with you?” Table called out as he dipped more ink. The sweating man in the chair took a breath and grimaced as the buzzing started up again. “It’s drier than a mummy’s ass out there.”

“Not this time. How’s life with Lori?”

Table grinned from ear to ear. “Gets better every day. God knew what he was doin’ when he sent her to me.”

Weatherman’s lips broke into a wide smile. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks. How’s your mama?”

“The doctor said the side effects could be mild or severe, few or many. From what she’s going through right now, they’re at the severe end.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, brother.”

Weatherman sighed. “Yeah, me too. It can’t be helped, though, and there aren’t a lot of alternatives. At least we have a chance of beating it.”

“Your mom’s always been a fighter. Wish there was better news, but I get it. The club will stand by you and her, whatever happens.”

A burn started in the back of Weatherman’s eyes. He’d lived most of his life with only one person he could count on for anything. Now, he had a whole family ready to have his back whenever he called and then some. “I understand Lori’s running a daycare kind of thing.”

Table huffed and wiped the man’s arm. “Ain’t no ‘kinda’ about it. My house is filled with so much kid shit that I have to camp out in the garage to keep my man card. She’s got two other mothers who trade off days. I’ve been out lookin’ for a place to make into a center for them.” He wiped again and shook his head. “God knows I love my woman and my kids, but I’m tired of steppin’ on plastic blocks and stacking cups.”

Weatherman laughed aloud. In the five years Lori and Table had been together, they had produced two boys in addition to Angel, Table’s daughter by his first wife. This was a surprise, as they didn’t believe Lori could get pregnant. Angel was now in first grade. Cameron was four, and Mitchell was two. Currently, Lori was pregnant again, and more than one remark had been made about Table and Stud being in competition to see who could produce the most children.

The client let out a bark of comradery. “My kid has a bazillion Legos. I swear the damn things breed overnight. Them little pieces are the perfect size and shape to dig into the soles of your feet when you’re not lookin’.” He groaned. “How much longer you thinkin’?”

“I can go all night, brother, but if you’re ready for a break, I am too.”

The client nodded. “Yeah, I think I’m done this round. Great job so far. Even my wife likes it.”

Table chuckled as he wiped the man’s arm with antiseptic. “That’s good. I’d hate it for you if she didn’t. I won’t go over aftercare this time. Been down this road a time or two, eh?”

The man laughed. “Yeah, I know the drill. Courtney’s thing is her hair. Gets it done up every few weeks over at the salon. My thing is my ink. Don’t know what I want after the snake is done, but I’ll figure something out.”

Table swiped the credit card, and the client left with his arm swathed in white gauze and plastic wrap. The tattoo artist turned to Weatherman. “Wanna go to the house and grab a bite?”

“Sure. I got time before I gotta hit the road.”

Table squirted sanitizer on his hands and rubbed them together. “Sucks that you got a two-hour commute ahead of you.”

“I’ll take the southern route back to Knoxville and ride the Tail. Only a few more broadcasts and I’ll be here permanently. Interviewed today with the forestry service. All I gotta do is pass the test and I’m in.”

“Can you handle it with all that’s going on?”

Weatherman took a deep breath. “Helps clear my head to have something else to focus on.”

Table nodded. “I get that, brother. Let’s get over to the house. Lori’s itchin’ to see you.”

They rode in tandem down the road, Table leading and Weatherman just behind him. Greenery flashed by as the bikes roared over the asphalt. Signs of the season changes were there despite the late-summer heat. The vibrant greens of the mountains had started to change to fall colors.

Table pulled off at a hidden spot next to a nondescript mailbox. The house was nestled deep in a forested area and wasn’t visible from the main road. Weatherman glanced up at the state-of-the-art security cameras that dotted the driveway. It opened to a mountain dream spot. A perfectly manicured lawn surrounded a gorgeous modern two-story home in the middle of a clearing. A separate four-car garage and storage shed sat next to it. Few people knew Lori’s past and that she’d inherited a very substantial amount of money. She and Table had this place built special for their growing family. It was a little slice of heaven, tucked away with one of the area’s many creeks running through the backyard.

Lori came out of the house with a baby nestled under her arm and partially on her pregnant belly. Weatherman smiled as a tiny blonde dynamo burst through the door past her and sprinted over the grass to him.

“Uncle Wedder!”

Weatherman winced at the moniker his mentor’s daughter gave him. She had trouble saying “Weatherman” and had dubbed him “Wedder” when she started learning how to speak. The name stuck. “Hey, pooh-bear. How’s my favorite girl?” He scooped her up, and she hugged his neck hard enough to choke him.

---