Claire’s nickname for me hits me with a case of nostalgia, and I grin up at her.
Her purple hair is streaked with silver at the temples, and she’s holding a paper bag that smells like heaven. She seems older than I remember. Her laugh lines are a little deeper and she has a nose piercing she didn’t have before.
“Hey, Cee Cee.” I sit up straight to stretch my back.
“Lunchtime, folks,” she announces, setting down the bags of food on the break table. “I got those protein wraps you like, Ride.”
I wipe my brow with the back of my arm. “Thanks. Almost finished.”
Claire winks at Allie. “He gets like this—too focused for his own good. You doing okay, honey? He treating you right?”
Allie nods enthusiastically. “It hurts a lot less than I thought it would.”
“That’s because he’s one of the best,” Claire says with unmistakable pride in her voice. “Other than me, of course. I taught him everything he knows.”
“Except humility,” I mutter at Allie’s arm as Claire’s laugh rings through the shop.
“Never claimed to have that,” she retorts, ruffling my hair as she passes. “Food’s getting cold, ya’ll. Wrap it up.”
I finish the last scale I’m working on and sit back to admire my work. The outline of the dragon is complete, with some preliminary shading along the spine. It’s good—better than good. It’s exactly what I envisioned when I designed it.
“We need to stop here for today,” I say, wiping away the excess ink. “How do you feel?”
“Like I could keep going,” she answers. But the slight tremor in her hand tells me she’s reached her limit.
“First session’s always the hardest,” I say, applying some protection cream to the fresh tattoo. “We’ve got three more sessions before it’ll be complete. Just remember, this is a marathon, not a sprint, okay?”
She nods as she examines her arm in the mirror, eyes wide with excitement. “It’s already so bad ass. I can’t wait to see it when it’s finished.”
After she leaves, I pull out my phone to see a text from Noia asking how everything is going. I text her back to give her an update and shove it back into my pocket.
A few minutes later, with my lunch wrap halfway to my mouth, I get an alert.
KITTEN:That’s incredible. How do you feel?
Not ready to talk about it yet, I go with blunt.
ME:Better than expected.Gotta go. TTYL
Finished with lunch, I toss the wrapper in the trash and wipe my hands on my jeans.
“I’m going to head upstairs for a bit,” I tell Jax, who’s sitting at the front counter sketching.
He barely looks up. “Sure, man. Your two o’clock cancelled and your next appointment’s not until four.”
My two o’clock was Noia. I grin and shake my head.
I grab my jacket and head toward the back of the shop where a narrow staircase leads to the second floor, my heart pounding nervously against my ribs as I climb.
Sliding the key into the lock, I open the door, and step inside.
The apartment is completely empty. There’s no furniture, not even a light bulb in the ceiling fixture—just white walls and the afternoon sun streaking through uncovered windows across bare scuffed hardwoodfloors.
“What the hell?” I mutter, my voice a lonely echo in the vacant space.
I take my time walking through each room. There’s a living area that connects to a small kitchen, a bathroom with a decent-sized shower, toilet and sink, and a bedroom with built-in closets standing open and empty.
Running my hand along the wall, I test the texture of the paint beneath my fingertips. It’s real. The apartment exists, but for some reason it’s not furnished or lived in.
