Page 4 of Ink

“Will do.” Knowing my bestie how I did, I wasn’t surprised when she added, “The water here is awesome, but I hope you have way more fun than me. With a sexy tattoo artist who pops your cherry so you don’t have to worry about being the only virgin on campus.”

“You're ridiculous.” I turned into the parking lot, shaking my head.

“And that’s why you love me,” she quipped.

“Only because I didn’t know better when we became best friends,” I teased, pulling into a parking spot. “Good luck finding a hottie who’ll help you out with the same potential problem I’ll have when I get to college since you’ve never slept with anyone either.”

“I wish,” she muttered. “But we both know my mom would literally throw herself between any interesting guy and me to make sure nothing happens.”

“For real.”

We shared a laugh over the mental image of her mom shoving between Rachel and some random man on the beach before hanging up. Then I hopped out of my Jeep.

I was nervous as I walked into Hellbound Studio, but that didn’t stop me from going inside. I’d wanted a tattoo for two years, but since I only turned eighteen last month, I hadn’t been able to get one until then. My birthday was so close to my parents’ anniversary, so I decided just to wait and have it done today since that would bring extra meaning to the tattoo.

My nerves combined with the summer heat, making my palms sweaty as I crossed the parking lot. I rubbed them against my shorts before taking a deep breath. Then I yanked the door open and strode inside, trying to look more confident than I felt when the guy behind the counter looked up and flashed me a grin.

He didn’t look much older than me, but he had several tattoos on his left arm, so he fit with the place. “Hey, how can I help you?”

“I have an appointment with Onyx.”

He tapped on the keyboard, then asked, “Annika Lee?”

I nodded. “Yup.”

“And this is your first tattoo?”

Another nod. “Yeah.”

He scanned this information. “Looks like you already filled out all the paperwork online, so I just need to see your driver’s license.”

I grabbed my wallet from my purse and tugged out my identification. Sliding it across the counter, I murmured, “Here you go.”

He scanned my license into their system before handing it back to me. “Now you’re all set for when Onyx is ready to take you back. Should be any minute now.”

“Great.”

Faster was definitely better, as far as I was concerned. Although I’d been looking forward to this day for so long, I didn’t trust myself not to chicken out before my appointment even got started.

As he answered the ringing phone, I wandered over to the waiting area. When I searched online for a tattoo shop, Hellbound Studio had been rated the best in Georgia, not just in my little town of Riverstone. It was on Main Street, across from The Fuel & Flame Diner, but I had never been to either business since the local motorcycle club owned them. The fit my uncle would pitch if he ever learned I came here would rival Rachel’s mom’s if she’d been with me.

Hellbound Studio wasn’t anything like I’d pictured in my head. The cinder block walls were painted white, and the floor was decorative concrete with a dark and light gray pattern. The wood beams in the ceiling were exposed, and so was the ductwork, giving the place an industrial feel. But the lighting was bright, and there wasn’t a speck of dust that I could see.

Instead of sitting down, I studied the framed pictures on the wall. They were sketches of what I assumed were tattoos that the Hellbound artists had done, and they were all impressive. “Annika?”

Turning, I smile at the man standing in front of the reception counter. “That’s me. You’re Onyx?”

“Yup,” he confirmed with a lift of his chin. “From the note when you booked your appointment, it sounded like you know exactly what you want. Did you bring any photos or drawings that I can use as a reference?”

Crossing to him, I pulled my phone from my purse to show him what I found online, pointing out the flowers first. “I was hoping you could do a heritage rose like this one.”

“I can draw that.”

Then I swiped to a photo of a heart-shaped pocket watch with Roman numerals on the face. “And I want the hands to point to eight and eleven.”

“Today’s date? It has special meaning for you?” he asked as he scrolled through the images I saved in a folder on my phone.

I swallowed the lump in my throat that was always there when I talked about my mom and dad. “It’s when my parents got married. I thought it would be a good way to honor them and how much they loved each other.”

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