Page 2 of Broken

I take the bat from Lucky. She is glaring at the ass doubled up on the floor. Fuck, is he crying? The annihilation of your junk will do that to a man. If his dick isn’t bent and pissing blood for a few days, it’ll be a damn miracle.

Lucky smiles smugly as Shane grabs his arm and practically drags the guy to his feet. I put the bat away and frown at the broken glass. It held candy Lucky offers to clients.

“I told him we couldn’t fit him in. And he needed to sober up before anyone would tattoo him.”

Lucky has full sleeves and tattoos going up her throat, the majority done by me. I’ve known her for five years. I’d do anything to keep her safe, including trying to keep my best friend away from her.

She is a sweetheart, despite the way people perceive her from her appearance. When she isn’t working here five days a week, she’s teaching lyrical hip hop dance to kids at a local studio.

“And stay out,” Shane says, swiping his hands together as if he tossed garbage. He slams the door, making the window beside it rattle. “Oops, sorry, got carried away,” he grins sheepishly.

“Clean this up,” I tell him, indicating the broken glass and candy.

As our apprentice, Shane gets all the shitty jobs. He doesn’t need to worry about the women, they are getting their things to leave. Clearly, they don’t want the ink badly enough.

You get to know the type. They think they want a tattoo because it’s a novelty, something to tell their friends. They almost always regret it. So, I don’t give a shit if they’re leaving.

There is a guy in Phoenix’s chair who’s been scrolling on his phone throughout the whole exchange and doesn’t care what’s going on. He is one of Phoenix’s long-time clients, who has seen far worse things than a drunk getting his ass handed to him by a woman.

When the women leave, and Shane is busy cleaning shit up, I head back to my own client.

“Does that kind of thing happen often?” Nina asks.

“No,” I tell her. “Could you stand?”

“Sure,” she hops off the chair, not in the least perturbed by my gruff response.

She’s removed her top, wearing only a strapless bra. Nina has numerous tattoos on her upper arms, hands, and calves. I’m tattooing a custom chest and shoulder piece I’m excited about. We met a couple of times to finish the design and I finally got a free afternoon to start working on it.

My station is already sterilized, the ink set out on my tray, with the coil liner machine I’ve had since my apprentice days. There is a lot of intricate work and fine line details in the outline of this tattoo.

I’d apprenticed with the original owner of Blackhawk Ink for three years. I decided to make a change in the direction my life was taking when I started working here.

When Brick retired due to back problems, he offered me first refusal to take over. Phoenix, who was also working here, came on board to make up the money. Art is my passion and all the designs I do these days are custom. I’m well known in the industry for my free hand work.

I rarely do walk-ins, unless they’re serious about what they want. Not some infinity symbol or their partner, or kid’s nameand date of birth bullshit. Long stupid quotes irritate the fuck out of me too.

There are other tattoo artists who will do that shit without a second thought. Not at Blackhawk Ink. Even Shane’s work is better than that. I’m training him to be the way I want him, to fit in with the ethos of my shop.

Once the stencil is on her skin and Nina is happy with the placement, we get her settled on the bed. I pull on gloves and sit down.

Tattooing someone is something I take seriously. This will be on them for life. I also take great pride in what I do. Fucking it up isn’t an option for me. Nina is okay with my silence and lays back quietly with her eyes closed.

I’ve gotten over the embarrassment of having to lean on intimate body parts. It isn’t a turn on for me when my arms are on a woman’s breasts, covered or uncovered. Nor do I bat an eye if they want tattoos around their pubic area. I’m desensitized to it, it’s work.

Not that I don’t appreciate a good set of tits, nor do I turn away from pussy, when it’s between me and a woman who wants my cock. Not a client who is trusting me not to ogle or touch her in a place she doesn’t need to be touched.

I’d been a piercer for a while during my apprenticeship and shoved needles through countless nipples, clitoral hoods, and dicks. It does nothing for me.

Small talk isn’t my thing. I prefer to focus on what I’m doing. Too bad Phoenix is a fucking talker. Usually with his clients, but he always has to try to pull everyone else in.

“Hey Lucky, you still on for drinks tonight?” he calls across the shop.

“Yeah,” she answers, re-stocking her candies into a new jar. “I’m in serious need of a drink, or four. It’s been a long week.”

“It’s only Wednesday,” Sumner points out, taking a seat at the counter.

“Which makes the drink even more necessary,” Lucky groans.

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