Page 12 of Brand
The question was, why?
“Yeah, well if that’s what you’re looking to get done and you know that we’re known for other stuff, then why did you come here to get work done?”
“Oh, no,” she said quickly with a shake of her head. “I’m not here to get anything done.”
“So why the hellareyou here?” I asked and I could feel my head start to pound. I wasn’t in the mood for this going around in circles bullshit.
“Well, you’re the best shop in town, in my opinion, anyway, and I was hoping I could…maybe learn from you. You could teach me the ways of tattooing.”
I blinked, and blinked again. I had half a mind to look around to see if Sketch was hiding somewhere. Was this some kind of prank the guys were trying to pull on me?
“I mean, I’ll do all the grunt work,” she rushed to say when I’d been silent for far too long. “I’ll clean out the printer when it’s jammed. I’ll scrub down the bathrooms. I’ll take the trash out. Whatever. I don’t mean to sound desperate, but Ireallywant this.”
I didn’t miss how her voice was almost pleading or how her toes noticeably wiggled in her thin shoes. Or the way she bit her lip, so far on the left side her teeth were almost sinking into the corner of her mouth. I had to admit, it was kind of cute in an adorable sort of way.
“You want to be my apprentice?” I asked really slowly because I still wasn’t sure about what the fuck was going on.
“Yes,” she rushed to say in an excited tone.
“No,” I said as I shook my head. I wasn’t trying to be an asshole, but it seemed like a really bad idea. “I honestly don’t think that’s going to work.”
“P-please,” she said as she pulled open her bag and began to dig around blindly. “Just, here. Look at my stuff before you tell me no.” She stepped forward and my nose filled with the light scent of fresh powder and something floral. It wasn’t overly strong. In fact, I found myself taking in a deep breath through my nose to get more of the scent without even realizing it.
I flipped through her portfolio. It was a mix of painted prints and a few sketches done in pencil and charcoal. I had to admit that her work was good. The outdoor scenery ones were on point. Her figures were amazing too. And I realized that I’d stopped on a sketch of a naked woman. Her pose was almost one of a ballet dancer stuck in mid-arch. It was beautiful and this girl, Cami, had managed to capture the emotions on the woman’s face perfectly. My eyes easily became lost in the smooth lines and harsh shading. If she could transfer all of her talent to skin from a vibrating needle, then she had the potential to surpass all of us in this shop. And I wasn’t even ashamed to admit that. Though I wasn’t going to say that to her now. I didn’t want to get her hopes up in any sort of way.
“Be here at noon tomorrow,” I said against my better judgment.
“I have the job…or apprenticeship, rather?” she asked, a hopeful ring in her tone.
“You can help around the shop for a few days. I need to see how you interact with the guys here as well as the clients. Make it through this week and we can talk about it further.”
She flashed me an excited smile. There was something about her that I just couldn’t put my finger on. I blamed it on my over-curious mind. I had to know what a girl like her was doing down here and all but begging to learn how to put art on skin. I hoped this wasn’t some rebellious thing where she was doing her best to piss off her parents. The last thing this shop needed was any kind of drama.
“See you tomorrow. Thank you, Brand.” She picked up her portfolio and darted out of the shop without even stuffing it back in her expensive bag.
“What was that all about?” Sketch asked as he came out from his room. I imagined he caught at least some of what went on.
“Honestly, I don’t know, man. But starting tomorrow we are going to have some girl hanging out in the shop. I want to see how she fits in and then…”
Then what? Yeah, I had no idea what to even say. I really didn’t think it was a good idea but for some reason, my brain was trying to convince me otherwise, or telling me to at least give her a chance.
“A chick? Is she hot?” he asked as he walked to the front of the shop and scanned outside the huge windows. She was long gone, I imagined speeding off in her BMW or whatever she had.
“Don’t even,” I said hoping to stop that train right then. I didn’t need him messing with her, especially if I was going to keep her around. “I might take her on as a shop girl, or something.” The ‘or something’ was more right. But I didn’t want to get into it until I’d made a decision.
“Okay. Whatever.” He gave a lazy shrug then turned back to face me. He rattled on about the appointments we had lined up for the day as if nothing had even happened.
Out of the three of us, Sketch was definitely the most wild, though, Blade was a close second. Sketch was young and saw no problem in having a good time. Quickly followed by another good time, and then top that off with some more. Yes, he for one, never seemed to stop, and two, didn’t seem to care to have any kind of attachments. As far as women were concerned, that was.
He was still a prospect, but he was as loyal and hardworking as they came. Though he was young, barely nineteen, he had already been through the hardships of a hundred lifetimes. It was easy to tell that he needed the familiarity and camaraderie that the club offered.
Blade sometimes had an eerie coldness about him. He wasn’t one to let his feelings be known. He was kind of a hardass and wasn’t one to ask permission. Since the time he’d started working at the shop, I’d seen a slight change in him, though. There were times, when no one was around, that he became a tiny bit more relaxed. And when he was hanging out at the bar or clubhouse, he wasn’t so standoffish with everyone as he had once been. I could tell he was a hard one to crack. It was nice to see that he was letting people in a little, even if it was on his own terms.
I looked around the shop, a smile tugging at my lips. Some days, I couldn’t believe that I was really here. That this was all, in a sense, mine.
Ever since I turned twenty and felt the vibration of the buzzing needle in my hand, I’d been hooked. Growing up, I’d always had a pencil in my hand and a sketch pad resting on my lap. It didn’t matter what I was looking at, I’d draw it. When it was just me and my hand to the paper, it was the calmest I’d ever felt. That feeling now continued on when I dipped the needle in ink and made images permanent on flesh. I took pride in each piece I did. It was my own personal goal to never let anyone leave feeling like I’d just slapped something on them. As odd as it may sound, each person I tattooed walked away with a tiny sliver of my soul.
Sure, some days were long and some of the people that came in were difficult. But I’d take the bad as long as I got some of the good.
And there was that calm that I loved, that I felt down to my bones. Even just sitting there in the middle of the shop, looking out the front windows waiting for my next appointment, I felt the blissfulness of it all.
I just crossed my fingers that the calm wasn’t about to be shattered.
But somehow, I had a feeling things were going to be very different from here on out.
