19. Chapter 19
Chapter 19
Avery
The summer days pass quickly, and I settle into a sort of routine at work. I usually spend the first two hours at the shop doing office duties. I’ve organized my various tasks into different days so I can get everything done and still have time to learn the tattooing side of things. Things in the office are running smoothly now. I’m not sure how they were before I started working here, but I’d like to think I’m making a positive difference. Not that Corbin has said or done anything that might hint that he approves of what I’ve done. But he is being a little nicer to me, I think. I try not to read into his small gestures of kindness. It’s not like he’s buying me flowers. He gave me a freaking sketchbook to draw in while I’m at work.
I ignore the small part of me that whispers that for someone like Corbin, that is a big deal. He’s not the kind of person to be nice for the sake of it. I get the feeling you need to earn his respect. I know he and I started off on the wrong foot, but I think things are going well now. I wouldn’t exactly call us friends, but he’s being cordial most days, even if he’s not outright friendly. He’s not joking around with me the way he does with Jessie and Noah. I’m not sure we’ll ever get there; but he makes time to show me things I haven’t seen before.
The other day, he was tattooing a client and using a shading technique I hadn’t seen before. When I asked him about it, he didn’t huff in annoyance at the interruption. In fact, he’d looked sort of pleased that I’d asked. He explained his reasoning behind using the technique and the way it would affect the finished design. We’d talked while he worked and for the first time, I’d felt at ease in his presence. There was still the underlying sexual awareness, of course. I doubt that will ever go away. It’s too bad. I’d like to be able to work with him without constantly wanting to jump his bones. Maybe that will come in time.
Today, Corbin has a full schedule and I’ve been fielding calls all afternoon for people hoping to sweet talk their way into an earlier time slot than the website is telling them. It’s irritating. Don’t these people know how to read? Do they think the website is somehow lying to them? I don’t know how people at call centers deal with things like this all day long. By the time I finish telling the 5 th person in a row that Corbin is booked up until November and no, he doesn’t accept walk-ins, I want to throw the phone out into the street and hope a passing truck runs it over.
“Ugh!” I groan, glaring at the phone, daring it to ring again.
“Just forward it to the answering service,” Corbin says. “You don’t have time to keep telling them the same shit they can read online.”
“You don’t need to tell me twice,” I say, pressing the buttons to forward incoming calls.
“I’ve got a client coming for a cover-up soon,” he says. “This one will be a little difficult. It’ll be good for you to see it.”
Excitement courses through me at Corbin’s invitation. I try to tell myself that I’m just looking forward to seeing something new, but I know the truth. I’m excited that Corbin went out of his way to invite me to watch him work. I’m excited to watch him work. Idiot. He’s training you. That’s literally why you’re here. Still, he doesn’t usually give me a heads-up about what he’s doing. I’ve had to just tag along and ask questions and hope I’m not annoying him. But maybe he’s finally starting to realize I’m serious about learning to tattoo .
Ten minutes later, I hear the bell above the door ring. Looking over, I see a tall, gorgeous woman standing there. I’m immediately struck by a sense of familiarity. She looks like she’s a little older than me, but not older than mid-thirties. Her cool, blue eyes are striking when combined with her long, dark hair. She’s got the kind of curves that I’d need plastic surgery to achieve. Thanks, genetics. I’m pretty sure everything she’s rocking is totally natural. I’m immediately intimidated by this beautiful woman. Before I can figure out why she looks so familiar, she spots Corbin and smiles, transforming her from gorgeous to insanely gorgeous.
“Corbin,” she says, walking toward him with her arms wide.
To my utter shock, Corbin gives her a brilliant, full smile. It’s the kind of smile I’ve never seen from him. The force of that full smile hits me hard and it’s not even directed at me.
“Izzy,” he says. It’s been too long.”
The woman—Izzy—plants a kiss on Corbin’s cheek before pulling him in for a hug that seems to last far too long. Something hot sizzles in my chest and I look away from them, turning my attention to the computer, though I don’t have anything open on the screen. I just need an excuse to look away from Corbin and the stunningly beautiful woman who looks like she was made for him. It’s no use, though. I can still hear the two of them talking, catching up like two old friends. I didn’t even think Corbin had friends .
“Avery?”
It takes me a second to realize that Corbin is saying my name. Blinking, I turn to look at him. He’s still standing too close to Izzy, but at least they’re not hugging anymore. Though I doubt I’ll be able to forget the sight of her kissing his cheek. Or the way Corbin’s smile completely transformed his face from stern to something resembling happy.
“Yes?” I manage.
“You want to come along?” Corbin asks.
I nod quickly. “Yep. Coming.”
He gestures toward his station. “This way,” he tells Izzy.
For her part, she gives me an assessing look before turning to walk with Corbin. I can’t help but notice that he doesn’t introduce me to his friend. It’s just as well. She seems perfectly happy to keep her focus on Corbin and pretend I’m not there. So, I do my best to stay out of the way while Corbin sets up for Izzy’s tattoo. The two of them chat while he works. Well, Izzy chats while he mostly listens, nodding occasionally. She strikes me as the type of woman who likes to be heard. Happy to be the center of attention.
Izzy strips off her leather jacket while Corbin works and hangs it on the back of the chair. Leather? In the middle of a humid Boston summer? I’m not sure that makes the most sense, but who am I to argue with fashion? The jacket looks like it was custom made for her. Not to mention the white tank she’s wearing under it, or the jeans that look practically painted onto her ass.
“LA is so boring these days,” she says, resting her hand on Corbin’s forearm with a familiarity that can’t be mistaken. “I wish you’d come out to visit me. Liven things up again.”
Again? I file that tidbit away for later. I wonder if the two of them were once a couple. He doesn’t strike me as her type, but there’s no denying that they would make a gorgeous couple. She seems the type to be a little higher maintenance than Corbin would like, but what do I know? I grew up with rich parents and every convenience possible. Just because I do my best to steer clear of that life now doesn’t mean anything. I could have turned out just as high maintenance if certain things had gone differently for me.
Against my will, my gaze is drawn to the woman and the way she interacts with Corbin. There’s a familiarity there that I haven’t seen him have with anyone else. Maybe his sister, but that had been platonic. But this? This is something else entirely. I’m not sure I like it. There’s something almost predatory about the way Izzy watches him. And she couldn’t have been more dismissive of me if I were furniture. I’m not sure if that’s supposed to make me feel inferior or not. If so, it’s not working. I’m annoyed, but it has nothing to do with her treatment of me and everything to do with the way she’s acting around my boss. Which pisses me off .
I have no reason to be bothered by Izzy and Corbin together. Not that they’re together. But if they ever were together, it’s none of my business. He can see who he wants to. I tell myself to ignore whatever strange emotion I’m feeling and focus on learning what I can from this tattoo session. It works for a while. Right up until the moment Izzy unzips her pants and exposes her perfect ass to the entire shop.
It’s not her ass that bothers me. It’s not even the fact that it’s definitely better than my ass. It’s the way she did it. She’d stood up so that her zipper was eye-level with Corbin’s face before slowly lowering the zipper, all without breaking eye contact. Then, she’d turned slowly around until her ass was in his face before working those skin-tight jeans down over her hips and ass. If she’d been wearing panties underneath, I missed them altogether.
“Lie down,” Corbin says, his voice slightly gruffer than normal. “Face down.”
If he hadn’t been talking to another woman, those words would have sent a shiver of something dark and sexy through me. But Izzy’s presence, coupled with her near nudity, succeeds in doing something I hadn’t thought possible. My attraction to Corbin has all but vanished. In its place is something closer to rage. It’s not anger I can justify, but I can’t seem to help it.
To his credit, Corbin immediately covers Izzy’s exposed ass as soon as she lies down. When he’s finished draping her, there’s only a patch of skin visible on her left cheek about the size of a dollar bill. In the center of the exposed patch is a word.
“Since the letters are in black, I’ll need to use darker ink and shadowing to cover it,” Corbin says.
It takes me a second to realize he’s talking to me and not Miss-Perfect-Ass.
“Makes sense,” I say, studying the tattoo.
I can see now that it’s a name. ‘Rob’. I wonder who Rob was to Izzy. It’s clear that he’s not important to her anymore. Or at least not important enough to have his name on her ass anymore. I’ve never considered getting someone’s name tattooed on my body. I try to imagine someone being that important to me, but I fall short. I eye Corbin for a moment, my eyes trailing over the dozens of tattoos that cover his arms. I wonder how many tattoos he has. I wonder if he’s got someone’s name on him. Maybe Izzy’s? My annoyance makes a resurgence and I shake off that idea immediately.
I do my best to focus on what Corbin is doing and to ignore Izzy’s incessant talking. She’s barely taken a breath since she walked in the door. I know she’s a paying client, but damn the woman is annoying. I don’t know how Corbin can stand it. If I weren’t trying to learn from his techniques, I’d have abandoned this tattoo within the first few minutes.
I do my best to tune her out while Corbin talks me through what he’s doing and why. He’s a better teacher than I’d expected him to be when he first agreed to take me on. I hadn’t expected him to have the patience to explain even the simple things to me. I’d assumed he’d get irritated with teaching me after the first few days, but the opposite has happened. He’s somehow become more patient as the days have passed. It’s almost like he’s settling into his role as my mentor just as I’ve settled into my role as his apprentice. There’s still that pesky jolt of awareness that happens whenever I’m near him, but I’ve almost gotten used to it. I still wish I could turn it off, but I’ll take the small win.
By the time Corbin finishes covering Rob’s name with a gorgeous jewel-toned butterfly, I’m beyond ready to get away from her. Her chatter finally died down somewhere around the second half hour of shading, which made me eternally grateful. Corbin stretches his fingers as Izzy stands to check out her ass in the mirror.
“You’ve been quiet,” Corbin says, pulling my gaze to his.
He looks almost amused, and I can only guess it’s because he’s thinking the same thing I am. That it’s impossible to get a word in around that woman. We don’t say anything, but a moment passes where I’m certain we’re both wishing we could.
“Did you have any questions about the technique?” he asks.
I shake my head, holding up my notebook where I’d been taking notes while he worked.
“I think I’m good for now,” I say. “Thanks.”
He nods. “No problem.”
“Do you need me to help clean up? ”
“Nah,” he says. “Go see if Jessie needs help. I’ve got this.”
Nodding, I stand. “It was nice to meet you,” I say to Izzy.
She looks at me as if seeing me for the first time. Then she gives me a dismissive wave and a half-hearted smile as I turn to go. I almost laugh at her attitude as I walk away. She’s clearly only got eyes for Corbin. Something warms inside my chest as I realize why that shared moment between us felt so good. He’d been just as annoyed by Izzy as I was. It was his way of silently agreeing with me. Which means her interest is one-sided. That shouldn’t make me as happy as it does, so I try my best to pretend something else is responsible for my sudden good mood. I’m not sure it works though.
I make my way over to where Jessie is talking to a client about a piercing. I’ve watched her pierce several people over the past few weeks. It’s interesting to watch her process, and now I know there’s more to it than just stabbing flesh randomly. There’s a science to it. An art that I can appreciate, even if I don’t think it’s for me. At first, I’d been worried I might be squeamish when it came to watching the needle puncture the flesh, but it doesn’t seem to bother me. And Jessie has been extremely forthcoming when it comes to explaining piercing techniques and protocols. I’m sure she won’t mind some company for this one. She turns to me and smiles when I walk over to join her .
“This is our new apprentice, Avery,” she says, introducing me to the man.
He smiles. “Nice to meet you. I’m Paul.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“The policy at Elemental Ink is that all piercings that are of a sensitive nature have two employees present in the room,” Jessie says.
I glance between the two of them, wondering what exactly this man is planning to pierce. I don’t ask though because the man is nodding.
“Of course,” he says, unbothered by the stipulation.
“Are you comfortable with Avery being in the room with us during your piercing?” Jessie asks. “I’ll be doing the piercing, but she’ll be there for propriety and for learning, of course.”
Paul nods again. “Fine by me.”
Jessie smiles. “Great. Let me get your paperwork and ID scanned in and get everything set up. I’ll take you back in a bit.”
He dips his head in acknowledgement. “Sounds good.”
“Just have a seat out front and Avery will bring you back when we’re ready.”
With that, Jessie turns and walks back toward the computer and scanner. I give Paul a sheepish smile before hurrying to follow Jessie.
“What’s he getting pierced?” I ask in a low whisper.
“He wants his frenulum pierced,” she says in a tone that suggests I should know what the hell that is .
I run through my mental list of anatomical parts and come up short.
“What’s that?” I ask.
Jessie grins as she looks over the paperwork Paul filled out and signs it.
“It’s a piece of connective tissue on the underside of the penis. Near the head.”