“Alyssa’s in town, and you’re not going to spend a Friday night working. Go have fun. Enjoy your time together.”
“You’re the best, Mr. Gallo,” Alyssa says, grabbing her serving tray off the table before climbing to her feet.
I get up too, going over to him to give him a kiss on the cheek. “You deserve a night off too, Dad.”
He smiles down at me with the same sweetness he’s shown me his entire life. I know every time he looks at me, he sees my mother. How could he not? It’s as if the universe hit copy, paste, and poof, I was born. “Life’s short, kid, and you two deserve to have a good time while she’s visiting. Lucio’s coming in tonight to help too. We’ve got this covered.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Completely.”
I love my dad. He’s been to hell and back—losing his wife and raising two kids on his own for a handful of years until Tilly changed everything.
He was never bitter or angry, always putting our needs before his own. I don’t know what I did to deserve growing up with such a loving and patient man, but I know I hit the dad jackpot the day I was born.
“You really are the best,” I tell him, repeating Alyssa’s statement.
“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, never fully understanding how much Brax and I appreciate him for being our rock after everything we went through with him, too.
“You know what I want to do tonight?” Alyssa asks as we head toward the back room to grab our purses.
“What?”
“A tattoo. You game?”
“You want me to do it?”
“Are your skills shit?”
“No,” I tell her.
I’d always loved art and drawing, but I never thought about being a tattoo artist until I spent some time in Florida with my cousins. There was something about their shop Inked that I fell absolutely in love with.
The last time I went for a visit, I decided there was nothing else I wanted to do. Bar life wasn’t for me, and I couldn’t bake a cupcake to save my life. I talked to my cousins about opening a branch of their shop on the Southside of Chicago, and when they agreed, I jumped in feetfirst without a second thought.
And as a bonus, they take turns coming to visit for special guest spots at the shop to tattoo some of the people in the neighborhood. It’s a win-win for everyone. I even converted the top floor of the shop to an apartment for when they’re here.
But what I didn’t know when I came up with the idea to do tattoos was how rigorous the training would be. My technique was crap for a few years, but every day, I got better.
Luckily, I have amazing artists who rent chairs at the shop, driving lots of traffic and helping build the business quicker than I would’ve been able to do alone.
“But they’re not the best either.”
“Can you trace handwriting?”
“I can do that.” It was the most basic and easiest thing for me to do. I spent years forging my dad’s signature. Who knew that talent would come in handy years later?
Alyssa pulls a small photo out of her purse and hands it to me. “I want what’s written on the back to be tattooed on my arm.”
The picture is of her father when he served in the military. The man was handsome when he was young. Strong jaw, full head of hair, and could fill out a uniform nicely. When I flip it over, a few words are scribbled on the back.
At least I’m not lost.
“You want this?” I ask her, glancing up from the paper.
She nods. “Ever since he passed away, I’ve wanted to get those words put on my skin in his handwriting. A permanent reminder of him.”
“If this is what you want, I can make it happen.”
