“Alright, I’m ready for you.” I wave the girl over to show her the design. Exactly what she wanted, and ready to be printed onto a stencil.
“Oh perfect, thank you Ty,” she gushes, putting her hand over mine.
I quickly move it.
“Good. I’ll print it off and we’ll get started. Come on back and get seated. It shouldn’t be a long tattoo, maybe an hour.”
This girl, I’m not even bothering to learn her name, hums like she’s trying to goad me by saying, “We’ll see.”
I walk to the printer, and I hear her push open the saloon door that separates the lobby and the back. Once she’s gone, I start swearing in Spanish under my breath.
This is going to be so fucking bad. I’m already done with her and I have to touch her for an hour. Fuck my life. Fuck my job. Fuck my past, immature, drunk self who thought hooking up would help me get over Roxie. Goddamn it.
“I haven’t heard you let out a string of curses like that in a while. You okay?” Asher steps up behind me, speaking quietly as he reaches for the forms by the printer.
“I just want to get this done with. Is Roxie okay?”
“Yeah, she ate. Nearly fucking bit off my finger when I tried to take a fry, but she ate. Now she’s working on an art piece. She’s talented.”
“I know,” I smirk with pride.
“Um, Ty?” The girl at my station calls out loudly across the room and I do everything in my power to not have my shoulders drop in annoyance or defeat.I have to be a professional. I have to be a professional. I cannot tell this girl to fuck off. I cannot tell this girl to fuck off. No matter how much Ifucking want to.
“Be right there,” I try to say in a polite voice but it sounds fake-as-shit to my ears.
“You sure you don’t want me to…” Asher says, but I cut him off.
“I got it.”
I take the printed design and head over to my station where she’s sitting on the chair, straddling the seat like she thinks she can lay back at all. Her long tan legs hang on either side, exposed in the jean shorts she’s wearing. Thank god she’s already got a tanktop on because I would probably throw her out if she tried to take off her shirt for a shoulder piece.
“You can sit with your back against the seat. It’s not a big deal,” I say, sitting on my stool and pulling clean gloves on, bringing my tray over close where all my ink and stuff is sitting.
“No, that’s okay.” She watches me move, and I can see she’s arching her back so her ass pushes out further. Taking a deep breath, I try my very best not to shake my head. What the fuck?
This might have enticed me a while ago, simply because I was lonely and she’s clearly throwing signs out. But now? No.Hell no.No way I’m entertaining this whatsoever.
Instead, I shut down. Instead of asking her to move, or anything, I just start shaving her shoulder and getting the setting cream on before laying the stencil over top and handing her a mirror to see.
“Good?” I ask monotone as shit.
“Well,” she looks in the mirror, moving her blonde hair over her shoulder in a way that she did that night. And when I actually look at her, I can see that she knows what she’s doing. “What do you think? Is it sexy?”
“It’s not my tattoo.”
“But you could look at it,” she says huskily, “or bite my shoulder again if you wanted.”
“Let’s get one fucking thing straight, okay?” I say with an undertone of anger as I yank the mirror from her hand. “Whatever happened in the past,happened in the past. This naked selfie, loaded innuendos, the touching and shit? Done. There will be no more. Or I’ll kick you out.”
“I’m paying you,” she scoffs, cheeks red like she didn’t expect me to call her out.
“You haven’t yet. And does it look like I fucking care?” I growl, my eyes narrow at her. There’s no doubt that she understands my stance now.
“Ty,” she says softly, scoffing like she can’t believe what I’m telling her.
“Do you understand? Or do I need to ban you?”
Her blue eyes harden and I know that instead of trying to get into my pants now, she’s going to make my life a living hell.
