Page 8 of Ink

I guess that checks out with the way she’s dressed. She looks like she’d be an admin in a church or some shit with the amount of cleavage and leg she’s showing.

Do churches have admins?

They’ve gotta. Otherwise, where the fuck do chicks learn to dress like this?

“Cool.” I nod. “It’s pretty straightforward…” I trail off as I click through the programs, showing her where everything is. “Basically, all you need to do is answer the phones, take appointments for us, and handle any walk-ins or questions clients may have. Each artist and piercer has their own hours listed here on the wall.” I motion to the schedule that’s taped on the wall. “If they have an open spot during their hours of availability, feel free to schedule them in for basic shit. If it’s a larger piece or somethin’ custom, they’re obviously going to need more time to see if it’s somethin’ they’re interested in. And they’ll need to talk with the client. You know how it goes…” I pause as I side-eye her. She’s nodding along like she fully understands what I’m saying, but we both know she doesn’t have the first fucking clue. “The case along the front window has all the body jewelry we offer. Prices for each piercing are on the wall next to this one and the jewelry prices are in this book.” I continue as I open up one of the desk drawers to show the book. “Jewelry and the piercing are two separate charges. We aren’t fuckin’ Claire’s.”

My eyes narrow as I try to get a glimpse of her earlobes. Does this woman even have her ears pierced?

Jesus Christ, Gage hired a chick that doesn’t have a piercing.

He owes me big fucking time.

“Did you get all of that?”

“I think so.”

She’s so soft-spoken.

She’s going to get eaten alive in this city. I’m surprised she hasn’t already.

“Alright.” I nod. “We’ll start with this, and I’ll show you more tomorrow. You good with stayin’ until close?”

She nods her head.

She’s still avoiding eye contact, and it’s got me grinding my jaw. “Look at me,” I demand.

Her startled hazel eyes shoot to mine. Behind the innocence of them, fear is swirling in thick black clouds.

What are you scared of?

Before I can ask any more questions, her eyes move to the screen as she reaches for the mouse, clicking away.

Dismissed.

I’ll give her that.

For now.

“I’ll check in with you later,” I call over my shoulder, and I push off the desk and head towards my room to get ready for my first client.

I can’t help but wonder if I’m an idiot for letting Gage hire her.

Chapter

Five

SUTTON

Idon’t think I could feel more out of place if I tried.

Growing up in a small town and then working in that same small town, you learn very quickly that people are going to judge you. There’s no question about it. It’s just the way it is. They could wear ten-year-old sweats from when K-Mart was still a thing that have holes in places holes shouldn’t be, covered in bleach stains, and they’ll still have the audacity to judge every single little hair on your head. Someone always has something to say about someone.

It’s that same small-town thinking that engrained in my brain that people with tattoos, piercings, or hair that is any color other than black, brown or blonde are all convicted criminals. And if you were seen associating with them in any capacity, you were guilty by association. Ironic that so far, they’ve been the most welcoming people since I’ve arrived in Ravenna Heights.

I remember my best friend in high school had gotten her nose pierced and got a few pink streaks dyed in her hair for her sixteenth birthday. She and I had always talked about what colors we would do once we were finally allowed to. Hers was always pink and mine blue. I thought it was the coolest thing that her mom finally let her do it and mistakenly told my dad about it one night during dinner. I’ll never forget the way he looked me dead in the eyes and told me no daughter of his will have a nose ring and if I get mine done, the only thing I’ll ever be in life is a prostitute on a street corner.

That friend and I eventually drifted apart. I always got the feeling I was holding her back in a way that she didn’t want to say to my face. I got it. I really did. I wasn’t allowed to go to any of the parties or functions that she was allowed at.