Trent paused, the tip of his pencil poised over the paper.He had several suggestions for taking the edge off but wasn’t sure any of them would interest Harper.
“Like, take Tylenol,” she continued.“Or have a drink or something?I’m nervous that I’m going to flinch and you’ll make a mess.”
“I never make a mess.I told you.I’m amazing.We need to spend more time together so I can convince you of that.”Harper laughed, and he imagined her curled up on a white bed, her dark hair laid out around her.
“Can I do anything at all?”
He put the pencil back in the jar and walked over to the sofa, taking a seat at one end with his forearm resting over the sofa arm.
“To be honest, there isn’t a lot.”And boy, did he wish there was more, but who knew how Harper would cope?He’d had a hundred-pound cheerleader sail through a tattoo across her ribs, and linebacker faint at the sound of the tattoo machine.“Eat a decent meal before you come in.Want me to pick something up for you?”Or take you out for lunch?He didn’t think she was ready for that.But maybe after this process she would be.
“No, but thanks.I’m coming from José’s.I’ll grab something there.”
Trent hid his disappointment.“Have something high in protein.People have been known to pass out in the chair because they’ve built this up into something it isn’t.If you eat food beforehand, your blood sugar levels will be up and it will stop light-headedness.And you’ll be able to tolerate pain better if you aren’t cratchity because you’re hungry.”
“Cratchity?That’s not even a word,” Harper said, choking back what sounded like a giggle.
Trent closed his eyes and smiled.“Sure it is.Google it.”
“I’m going to.How do you even spell it anyway?If we were playing Scrabble, I’d challenge that word and get fifty points.”
“Scrabble, huh?”Could she get any cuter?“You certainly know how to party it up.Maybe I’ll let you challenge me sometime.”The idea of spending time with her, doing anything, grew more and more appealing.
“You’re on.”
They were both silent for a moment.“Are you sure there is nothing I can do for pain?”
“Not really, sweetheart.Topical numbing creams affect the skin surface and the chemicals in them can sometimes affect the tattoo.They also won’t last anywhere near as long as your session.Pain meds just thin your blood, which will make you bleed more—bad for you and gross for me.I have some numbing solution I can spray on once we’re underway.Only works on broken skin.”
“What about alcohol?”she asked hopefully.Usually, Trent had no patience for this kind of conversation.Yes, it hurt to get needles poked into your skin continuously for any period of time.You were either okay with that or not.Some people it hurt more.Some people it hurt less.He’d become a pro at identifying pussies as soon as they walked into the studio, passing them on to Lia, who had the patience of a saint.
It was different with Harper doing the asking though, and for the first time he found himself wishing he had better answers.
“As much as I imagine you’re a really cute drunk, it’s the same thing as pain meds.Thins the blood.My suggestion, for what it’s worth: Get a good night’s sleep tonight.Eat a decent meal before you come in.Bring music or games on your phone or something for distraction.Twenty minutes in, your endorphins will kick in anyway.Within an hour, I’ll spray your back if you can’t stand it.”
“I can’t believe I’m really going to do it,” Harper said quietly.
“You’d better or I’ll have to do this tattoo on Cujo while he’s sleeping.It’s too good to go to waste.”
“I can’t quite imagine that.”She laughed softly.“Sorry for disturbing you.I’ll let you get back to it.”
“No worries, Harper.I wish I had better answers, but I promise I’ll be as gentle as possible.I’m really looking forward to doing this for you.”
“I’m looking forward to you doing it for me too.It feels right.”
Didn’t it just?He knew exactly what she meant.There was a long, comfortable silence before either of them spoke.
“Good night, Trent.I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good night.”
He put the phone down and smiled.This was a good place to be.Doing big tattoos that were meaningful, in his own studio with his own team.He looked up at the ceiling and silently thanked Junior for having seen something more than the juvenile delinquent he’d caught spraying graffiti across the back of his studio.
He stood, straightening his jeans and returned to the table.The flames looked good and he picked up the pencil to resume sketching.He’d barely laid pencil to paper when the phone disturbed him again.He considered ignoring it, letting it go to voice mail for Pixie to deal with in the morning, but the private number could be Harper with more questions.
“Second Circle Tattoos.”
“Trent Andrews?”
