Page 21 of Under the Ink

“Thanks.”

“How many hours in the chair—give or take?”

“For both sleeves? Hmm.” She tried to total up all the sessions in her head. “Probably around forty, give or take.” But that didn’t countallthe hours she’d been inked—just the sleeves.

“Damn.”

“I’m not positive, though, because I was getting a lot of other tattoos around the same time.”

“You tryin’ to win an award or something?”

“No. I just like them.” That wasn’t a total lie. She loved what they did for her—and the way they made her appear was a bonus side effect. Most people were polite but didn’t want to get close, and that was more than fine with Naomi.

“You know I’m gonna wanna see the others at some point.” When Naomi shot him what she hoped was a warning look, he gave her another easy smile. “I promise I’ll show you mine first.”

Although Naomi wasn’t looking for a relationship, this guy was definitely a smooth talker and saidalmostthe right thing. “I’m not hanging in a museum.”

“Hanging?Oh, I get it. Sorry, darlin’. I can’t help myself. I was a tattoo artist in a former life…so ink fascinates me. Most people have stories behind each piece, and I find that interesting. No harm intended.”

“No problem.” She wasn’t going to make him all the more curious by telling him that every single one of her tattoos had one big shared story.

“How much did all them set you back?”

“Total? I’m not sure. Thousands.”

“Yeah. Not surprised. I’m sure your artist loved you.”

“Actually, the sleeves are by different artists.” The look Andy gave her made her feel like she’d committed a cardinal sin—but he had no idea. Once she’d decided to get the tattoos, she got them done as quickly as possible. And the first artist hadn’t had time for her for months after finishing the first…so she hired someone else. And she wasn’t going to explain herself to Andy or anyone else.

But he said, “That’s impressive. They look like they were done by the same person.”

“Yeah.” Naomi smiled, nodding her head. Okay, so maybe she could stick it out for the duration of the tour. She was making friends—well,afriend—and the work was simple. Plus, she really wanted to check out the entire country to find a place that spoke to her. And it wouldn’t cost her a dime.

Just in this short time, she’d determined that Denver was not it. Besides, it was way too damn close to Winchester. She planned to get the hell out of Colorado and never look back.

“Thereyou are, Andy.” As the big guy got closer, he spied Naomi on the other side of the roadie. “Hangin’ with the new girl. Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Well, dipshit, that’s how I found out her name’s Naomi.”

“Naomi, huh?” The new guy reminded her of Zakk Wylde—super long blond hair, a long beard, and bulky all over. She knew without a doubt that he had to be one of the guys who did all the heavy lifting. “You the new Jimmy?”

“I guess.”

Andy said, “This here’s Mississippi. Sippi for short.”

“Is that where you’re from?”

“No. They call me that ‘cause they say I’m wide like the Mississippi River. Real name’s Malcolm. And I hate it. Sippi is okay by me.”

“Then I’ll call you that.” If she could remember it. These guys were definitely okay, and things were feeling calmer and less stressed as time passed. These guys might never be friends in the traditional sense, but at least they could be work acquaintances.

“You ever been here before?”

“Denver?”

Sippi started laughing—harder than seemed to be warranted. “No. The Coliseum.”

“No.” To both—but she wasn’t about to admit it based on how funny he’d thought her clarifying question was.

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