Red is the only other artist left from the old days, and that means something to me. It’s taken me years to change the shop into the kind of place I want it to be, fighting against my asshole father’s legacy, developing a style that’s my own.
Most of the old-timers left after I started changing things, and artists have come and gone over the years, but Red always stuck around.
“What’s the occasion?” I ask.
He chuckles. “You’re a hell of a guy, Caesar.”
I raise an eyebrow to him. “What does that mean?”
“I was just thinking to myself, I wouldn’t have stayed at Blade all these years for anyone but you.”
The bartender deposits my whiskey shot and beer. I throw back the liquor immediately, then tighten my brow at Red. “Is that so?”
He grunts. “You know what I’m trying to say?”
“Yeah,” I answer, then chug from the beer. “You’re retiring. Am I right?”
“It’s time.”
“The place won’t be the same without you.”
Red chuckles. “Now you’re getting soft, Caesar.”
I punch his arm. “Fuck you,” I laugh roughly, and then we hit our glasses together and each swig from our beer. It hurts to see him go, like an era is ending, but I’m happy for the old guy, too, and this has been a long time coming.
“How much longer you want to work?” I ask.
Red shrugs. “I’ve got a couple months of appointments to finish up.” He leans against the bar and eyes me. “How about you?”
“What about me?”
“Billie is ready to take over the shop. You’ve already named her as your successor. And you’re barely ever in these days.” Red shakes his head. “I don’t know. You’ve been on a hiring spree. Place is pretty full.”
“Nope,” I answer flatly. “I’m not done yet.”
Red looks surprised by that, but I just turn to my beer. Mack comes back to mind, along with the dreams I once had of running the shop with him.
Life is funny. I’ve realized part of that dream and made my mark in the tattooing world, but somehow, in a way I can’t explain, I know that I have more to do. I’m not satisfied yet, even with everything I’ve accomplished.
“Game of pool?” I ask Red.
My old friend cocks up half a smile. “I’ll rack.”
A couple of hours later, I leave the bar. It’s dark out, and I’m a little wobbly on my feet, so I decide to call myself a ride back home. There aren’t a hell of a lot of people I can relax with, but Red is one of them, and I feel pleasantly tired after the night of talking shit and swapping stories.
“Excuse me.”
Irritation prickles up the back of my neck. The voice is hesitant, almost scared. I don’t have to look up to know who it is. “Listen, kid,” I say to the sidewalk. “I’m just waiting for my ride. Can you give me a little fucking peace?”
When he doesn’t say anything, I glance up. The kid is staring at me, wrestling through something. He opens and closes his mouth, searching for his words, energy buzzing off of him.
Fuck, he’s a cutie.
“I’m trying to find out more about Mack.”
I glance at my phone, impatient for the car to pick me up. “Well, you’re shit out of luck. I don’t know where he is.”
“Oh.” He says it softly, kind of stunned.
