Without a word, he picks up a tattoo gun from his tray and proceeds to set a sterile needle on it.
“When did you do your first tattoo?”
“In juvie. With a needle someone stole from the infirmary and ink from a pen. Then, I worked at a parlor for a bit when I came out. And after my brief stay in prison, I moved to Japan, where I learned with a true master of the craft.”
“The one who tattooed the geisha on you?”
He nods. “I stayed ten months with him then came to the US. I found a few parlors to work with and saved up as much as I could to start my own thing. When Kill came up with the idea to buy back The Devil’s Court, Eli and I quickly followed him into it. From then on, money came faster, and I was able to invest in this building.”
“A true rise to success.”
“I’m doing what I can with what I have. Alright, red. I’m going to make the first line. I’ll go slow, but try to stay perfectly still, okay?”
I nod and stare at the ceiling, praying the pain isn’t as bad as my expectations. His tattoo gun is a lot smaller than I thought and battery-powered, so it might be a good sign.
The noise of it turning on startles me, but I don’t move. And because he warns me just before he sets the needle on my skin, I’m not surprised by the contact. The sensation isn’t too uncomfortable and more like heat than actual pain. My skin warms up around the area he’s poking, but the breaching itself doesn’t hurt for long.
“Was that okay?” he asks, lifting up the tattoo gun and turning it off.
“Yeah, it really doesn’t hurt that much.”
“It can get overwhelming after a while, so let me know if you feel sick or need a break, alright?”
“I will.”
“Perfect. Let’s get on with it, red. You have a therapy session pending.”
Something tells me that I could stay silent the whole time, and we’d still be good. His attitude toward me, despite how terribly I handled the situation with Vivienne, is proof of it. Jake doesn’t resent me, even though he has every right to.
But I need to apologize and empty my heart to him because he deserves it. I need him to understand and believe that I’ll never treat him like that ever again. I’m growing out of my insecurities and problematic patterns. From this day forward, I will always put him first.
He’s my wombat, and I will never take him for granted ever again.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Jake
I didn’t expect Gen to show uplike this, asking for a tattoo. She should be at work, and yet she’s here, sitting on a tattooing chair with nothing but a flimsy piece of paper to hide her perfect tits. This looks like a grand gesture if I’ve ever seen one, trusting me to ink her skin forever.
No way I’ll be a dick about it, though. So, as tempting as it is to mark her with “Property of Jacob Daniel Clarke”, I’ll do something she’ll love, something she needs. This is the closure she’s craved all this time.
The shitshow at her brother’s really threw us off, didn’t it? Even now, with the trust she’s putting in me, an uncomfortable tension lingers between us.
“I saw my mother earlier,” she explains. Her voice is uneven, either from the nerves, her emotions, or the slight pain of the needle.
“How was she doing? Still her charming self?”
“She tried to bullshit me into leaving you. Making it sound like she was looking out for me. I don’t know how it happened, but I… snapped.”
“You did?”
“Yes. I called her out on all her bullshit and the trauma she caused me. Even called her a self-centered bitch.”
A low chuckle rumbles in my chest. “I would have loved to see that.”
“The place has cameras, so that might be negotiable.”
“You did it in public?” I wonder, impressed. Her cheeks get rosy with embarrassment.
