“Do you want to check out the placement? I can step out so you can take a look in the mirror.”
She waves me off. “I trust you.”
She really does. I don’t know why. I haven’t shown her any of my work. For all she knows, I could be the shittiest tattooer of all time. I’m not, but she doesn’t know that.
I won’t take her trust lightly.
“Anyway, that woman is well-connected in Westborough society circles and this could come back to bite me in the ass. I was hoping to make some contacts at the wedding and maybe book out the rest of the year with weddings. So I lost out on those possible bookings. And if she retaliates, it could be bad.”
“What will you do if she retaliates?”
I keep the conversation going as I start the tattoo. This is going to be a large piece, in full colour, so I expect it will take many hours to complete. I might need to get Becca to come back here with me a couple more times to finish working on it. Not that I mind. Anything that lets us spend more time together is fine by me.
Becca hardly notices that I’ve started, not even moving a muscle as I begin the line work.
“I’ll have to look into offering other services, I suppose. Maybe family shoots, or boudoir. I’m not sure yet. I’m hoping this all blows over and she lets it be.”
I hum a reply, just a noise to let her know I heard. She could be in trouble if this woman is as well-connected as Becca says she is. A woman like that could potentially ruin Becca’s career with gossip and lies.
“But enough about her. I want to know more about you. We’re going to be here a while so I might as well learn a little more about you while we’re at this.”
I spray her leg and wipe her down, removing blood and ink so I can see what I’m doing. Tattooing is messy work, but it can be so rewarding.
“Okay, let’s see. You’ve met Travis, my brother. Did you know that I have five sisters too? Most people are surprised to hear that.”
“Five? That’s a lot of estrogen in one place. It must have been interesting growing up in your house.” Becca laughs. “How many times were you given a makeover. Be honest.”
Much of my childhood was spent in my sisters’ dresses with poorly applied lipstick, but that’s not something I want Becca to know. At least not yet. I’m sure she’ll see pictures if she ever meets my Mom.
“Umm, yeah,” I chuckle. “More times than I’d like to admit. Travis and I both had it rough, what with being the only two boys and the youngest of all of us.”
“You and Travis must be pretty close. How’d you guys get to be in the band together?”
I stop for a second and think. “You know, I don’t know that it was ever a conscious decision? I started playing guitar and met the rest of the guys, and Travis just sort of tagged along. He picked up a bass somewhere and taught himself to play.”
“That seems a little strange,” she says. “Did he show any interest in music before that?”
“You know, now that I think of it? Not really? When we were younger, he loved working with my dad in his shop. He loved building stuff and fixing things. I can’t even recall him listening to music before we started the band.”
I used to spend hours drawing, and Travis spent the same amount of time building stuff. I’m not entirely certain how either of us found music, let alone wound up being in a successful band.
I wonder if Travis is even happy?
“Well, it sounds like your family is nice, at least. And big. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have such a big family. It’s been just me and my mom for as long as I can remember. If I saw my dad walking down the street, I wouldn’t even recognize him. I can’t remember what he looks like and my mother didn’t keep a single picture.”
“Shit, that’s depressing.”
“A little. But I’m used to it. It’s all I’ve ever known.”
We’ve been at this for a while and I’ve finished the line work already. One of the reasons I get as many clients as I do is that I work quickly without sacrificing quality of the tattoo.
I spray down Becca’s thigh and wipe it clean again.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Want to order something and keep working after? Or have you had enough already? I can wrap you up and we can continue another day.”
Becca twists her body in an attempt to look at my work so far. “I want to keep going but I’m also starving and desperately in need of coffee.”
“Here,” I tell her. “I’ll step out and bring some of this stuff to the autoclave for cleaning. You get up and have a look in the mirror and when I come back, I’ll wrap you up so we can get something to eat.”
