Page 17 of When Sinners Dare

“And, to be fair, they’re good tits, Richie,” the woman at the back says. “Should be. Paid enough for them. What do you think?”

This is Richie?

Richie swings her head back into the room. “Rainy, I swear to god you are not helping here.”

“Ah, poor boy needs some lovin’. You come in here, sweetcheeks. I got you.”

I chuckle a little. Richie doesn’t.

First time she’s given me a real once over, though.

“Right. Well. Fuck off then. Black for me. White with two for her.” I nod and start turning. “And leave them outside. Just knock.”

My hand waves in acknowledgement, and I head back to get some coffee for all of us.

Two coffee cups placed outside their door, and I walk up front of the corridor to see where everything is. Two final doors greet me at the top end, one locked, one open. I push through it to walk straight into the main reception area. No one’s in here. Why would they be? It’s still six in the fucking morning. So, I sit at the desk and wait, unsure what else I’m supposed to be doing.

I end up flicking through some folders full of images. Clients that have already been done, presumably. There are three definite styles of tattoo’s going on. One’s heavy, muted colours and dynamic, not unlike what Viper’s cobra looks like. Another seems mostly black ink and shades of grey, white highlights. Tribal in nature. And the third’s got a playful feel about it. Cartoonish. None of them look like mine particularly, and that’s fine by me.

Eventually, the woman and Richie come out into the reception, still laughing. They say their goodbyes without really acknowledging me, so I keep flicking through the folders until I come to a page filled with some incredible back work. First shot is a black traced image of a dragon spread all over the shoulders and down the spine. Second is the first layer of colour. Third – another layer, burnt oranges and some arm work joining into it this time with flames beginning to emerge. Fourth – the finished piece. “Jesus,” mutters out of me.

“Yeah. Viper’s work. That’s old now.” I look up and find Richie staring at it with me, her face as mesmerised as mine. “And you don’t get shit wrong if that guy’s under you.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Doesn’t matter. You don’t need anything to do with him. Definitely won’t be doing his work.” She sits on the chair opposite me and boots up the computer. It springs to life, and she takes it straight to a scheduling page. “So, Kai Jenson, this is your diary. It’ll take a while for you to build up your own clients, but we’ve slotted you in for two a day this week. First one this morning at nine thirty. Should take an hour or so. Then another at two. See?” She points at the screen. “They’re mostly dull as fuck this week, but it’ll ease you in.”

“Okay.”

“Any calls asking for you after this, and Blade, or Jules when she’s in, will organise who you’re doing and when you’re doing it. You can log in on your phone.” She writes some passwords and numbers on a piece of paper and pushes it over to me. “But don’t just assume they’ve got things in the right order for you. Neither of them know shit about the time it takes to do some work versus others. You’ll need to make sure you understand what piece you’re doing on what client and reorganise that if need be. You feel me?”

“Got it.”

“Blade’s an ass, but he’s okay as long as you are. Jules will probably try to get in your pants.” I chuckle. She scowls at me and looks back at the screen. “Don’t fuck her. I don’t care how much you feel like it. Stay the hell away. Last guy fucked her and we were left with broken hearts and Blade having a breakdown ‘cause he couldn’t do all the shifts. There’s no relationships at work. Yeah?” I nod. “Everything okay upstairs?”

“Yeah. Fine.”

“Right. You’re in room four. That’s the one opposite mine. Should be set up okay, but you might want to move shit around. The one next to yours is Viper’s, and the one near the entrance to reception is the office. Stay out of both. You need anything, it should be in the back. Can’t find it, ask. Also,” she opens a drawer and pulls out a folder full of paper, “you need to read all this and sign it. Safety checks and insurance.” I take it from her. “It’s pretty simple in here. Treat the clients well. No screwing up, and behave. This isn’t inside. This is the real world, and they’re paying a lot of fucking money for the best. And that’s it.”

She stands as if she’s done with me and leaves the reception area to head out back again.

“Richie?” She stops but doesn’t look back. “Thanks.”

“Don’t let Viper down, Kai.”

And then she’s gone.

~

The first client is a guy called Andi something. All I do for him is a few small lines of wording that he wants beneath a star on his back and then some accents to the star. Richie was right. If this is the shit I’m gonna be doing, I’m gonna be bored within two days. But the second is called Ditch Reynolds. He’s almost totally covered in ink and pretty cool to work on. We chat a bit while he’s lying there, and I’m finishing up his leg work. Seems like I’m finalising a piece the last guy here started before fucking off. It’s relatively easy, but not my style. Why the hell anyone wants a lion tattooed on their calf muscle is beyond me.

Still, I get it down and back off to look at the piece under the light against the rest of it. Like it or not, no one will be able to tell it wasn’t the original guy’s work. It’s blended in perfectly, and I’ve even corrected some messy screw-ups the eyes had. For once, a sense of pride hits me about something decent in my life, and I take a photo to show him. Think it’s about the first time I’ve done something, on a payroll, that I’m proud of.

I apply the ointment with a spatula and then cover it with a SecondSkin bandage.“You’re done,” I say, stripping my gloves.

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