Page 4 of Show Me How
“It’s distracting for both of us, that’s all,” I clarify.
Bryce ventures over and hovers, her brutally honest gaze dragging over my work. “He just doesn’t want to risk you telling him something looks like shit.”
Owen tenses, and I pull the needle back before finishing the tail.
“She’s just fucking around,” I tell him before elbowing Bryce’s thigh. “And now, she’s going to take the garbage out back for me.”
Bryce rolls her eyes. “It looks good, Owen. You came to the best.”
“Bye, Bryce,” I say before getting back to work.
Her boots clack against the floor while I put the last sweep of blue on the piece and push away. The instant relief in my wrist when I set the machine down is almost as euphoric as my first full look at my latest design. The burst of pride in my chest never gets old.
“Alright, give me a minute to clean you up here before I bring the mirror over. You can stretch out a bit.”
I’ve been setting up my station the same way for the last thirteen years, so reaching for the proper supplies is instinct. I get Owen cleaned up quickly and then spread my favourite healing gel across it, making the colours appear brighter. With the mirror in my hand, I angle it just right and tell him to lookback. The approval that floods his expression is a high unlike anything else I’ve ever felt.
“Holy shit, Shade. You’re insane!”
With a chuckle, I move around on my stool and grab the camera from my table. “I’ll bring you over to the wall of mirrors once I grab a photo of this.”
“You got it.”
The lighting in the shop has already been tweaked to my preferred brightness, so snapping a good picture is easy. Once I’ve finished and helped him up from the chair, I stay back while he checks himself out in the backlit mirrors. The ache in my fingers is almost comforting as I get to work on cleaning the chair and tossing the used needle.
“I’m almost too scared to ask what your availability looks like for me to get another piece done,” Owen says on his way back.
I smirk. “Depends on what you want to do. A full piece like this . . . you’re looking at about a year. Something smaller, I can cut that in half and squeeze you in somewhere.”
“Christ.”
“Or I could hand you over to Bryce. She’salmostas good as me, just a lot less handsome.”
“Thanks for that,” Bryce calls from the back.
“She’s not as friendly either, but if you’re after skill, she’s got it in spades,” I say, quieter this time.
Owen nods thoughtfully, glancing down at his bare bicep. “She’s good?”
“All that ink on her skin may be from me, but a little less than half of mine is from her.” To prove my point, I yank the hem of my shirt up to under my pec, exposing the scorpion piece on my ribs. “This baby is all her.”
“I’m in,” he agrees instantly.
Chuckling, I slap his hand and guide him back to my station to finish with the aftercare.
“I’m going to wrap this for you, but you can take it off in a couple of days. This bitch is going to ooze for a bit here, so just make sure you keep it clean once the wrap comes off. Unscented soap, unscented lotion, all that shit. If anything starts looking funky, just give the shop a call.”
“You got it.”
Bryce comes over and hands him the debit machine. She snags the camera and starts looking through the photos.
“Got you a new client, Bryce,” I say.
“Oh yeah?” She looks him over, searching for skin bare enough for her to work on. “Bicep?”
“I was thinking that, yeah. You’re up for it?”
She stares at him, expression flat and giving nothing away. “Do you have an idea for the piece or just interested in me coming up with something?”
