It was a fucking masterpiece.Trent had been working on Harper’s tattoo on and off for the better part of the day, holing up in his office between clients to get it finished.He’d spent way longer on research than usual and his eyes had started to rebel at the idea of Googling anything else.It all centered around a spectacular broadsword.The life-and-death symbolism of a double-edged sword would represent Harper’s victory over her attack.
In dreams, swords generally represented justice and courage.Harper had already shown courage in spades, and he hoped she had seen justice.
The handle was bejeweled in gemstones and Celtic symbols.He knew, from their conversation last night, that she’d want to know what it all meant, yet he hoped somehow that she’d let him wait to explain their symbolism until the moment he was actually tattooing them on her back.
The broadsword would run straight down her spine.She was least scarred there, which at first hadn’t made sense to him.Until he’d realized the knife would have been stopped when it met bone.A heavy feeling settled in his stomach.She was lucky her attacker hadn’t damaged her spine.
He’d need to get a sketch of her back so he could blow up the drawing and line it up to her scars.Flames, which he’d freestyle in, would reach around the rocks and ride up the outer sides of Harper’s back.
Leaning back in the chair, he rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair.
The office door swung open with a loud bang, and Trent looked up as it rebounded off the wall.
“What you up to?”
He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in.“Hey, Cuj.What’s up, man?”
“Wow.That’s a seriously bad tattoo.Nice work, dude.”
“I’m a fucking genius, I know.”He smiled.
“Modest too.”Cujo twisted the sketch of the tattoo on the table so he could see it better.“It’s for a girl, clearly.Gonna take a while.Who is she?”
How to describe Harper?Where did he begin?
“New client.”Trent watched Cujo trace his finger along the fiery edges.To talk about her situation with anyone, even his best friend, seemed like an abuse of her trust.
“She already tattooed?”Cujo moved from the table and took a seat on the arm of the sofa.
“No.”Trent pulled the drawing closer.It was crazy, but watching Cujo touch it irritated him.It belonged to Harper.And him.Something deeply personal between the two of them.
“Everything okay, dude?”
Best friend or not, Trent wasn’t ready to share his thoughts.“Yeah.Why?”
“You’re being a bit binary in your responses.You seem kinda cagey.”
Trent pursed his lips, picked up his pen, and started to spin it around his fingers.“Just not going into details.It’s her story, not mine.”
“Does she know what it’s going to take to sit for this?”
“No more than what she’s already been through.”The worst pain wouldn’t be physical.The true test would be when he put the tattoo machine against her back and drew the first outline.He could only imagine the emotional hell she would be in.
***
It was a dumb idea.Harper looked down at the white box in her hand and cursed.Trent had been so nice to her yesterday—insisting on getting her a cab home and even going so far as paying the driver in advance for her—that she’d wanted to do something to say thank you.The pastries had seemed like a great idea, but standing outside the studio now, Harper wasn’t feeling quite so certain.
Taking a deep breath, Harper squared her shoulders and walked into the store.Every tattoo station had someone in it, some lying on their fronts and others seated, and there was a line of people waiting at the desk.Harper blanched when she spotted a bald guy getting the image of a brain tattooed on his skull.She looked away quickly when he smiled at her, revealing a set of gold teeth.
A couple of young men were standing near the doorway engrossed in a booty-shaking rap video.A group of girls sat on the long, black sofa filling out pieces of paper attached to clipboards.Loud music blared and rock videos played on the flat-screen televisions as tattoo machines whirred in the background.Compared to the silence of the previous evening, it was an audible assault.
A tiny young woman with bright purple, bobbed hair sat at the front desk, the phone tucked between her ear and shoulder as she furiously typed something into a laptop.Her hair matched her metallic purple bustier and long purple nails.
Was Trent even here?Harper looked around until she saw the black baseball cap, the dark messy hair sticking out the back giving him away.He was doing the back of a man’s leg.A ferocious, fire-breathing dragon was taking shape, wrapping itself around the guy’s calf.
“Hi.Can I help you?”asked the reception girl.“Do you have an appointment?”She leaned forward on the desk, revealing incredibly realistic swirls of colorful flowers up one arm.
“Hey.No.I just… um… well, I came last night and saw Trent.He’s doing a design for me.I just brought these pastries by to say thanks.”Oh my goodness.How lame did this all sound?“I can see he’s really busy.Can I just leave them here and you can give them to him later?”
