16. Tess
TESS
“ I can’t believe you’re getting ready to re-open the studio tomorrow,” I say, slipping my hand into Art’s as we stand surveying the newly renovated tattoo shop. “Only a few weeks ago, I thought we’d never get to see the place looking like this again.”
His fingers tighten around mine and he looks down into my face. “ We’re getting to open the studio tomorrow, you mean. This place is both our baby now.”
“I know. I’m so excited to get started.”
I won’t be tattooing anyone, of course. I’m going to be a new addition to the tattoo studio, taking bookings, reordering stock, greeting clients. This will free up more of Art’s time, so he’ll be able to continue to work on his pro bono cases, while taking on more paid work.
The structure of the building had been saved, and though we’d needed a new staircase and a substantial amount of the flooring had to be replaced, it could have been worse. Thank God the insurance had been up to date.
Art had spent much of the past couple of months working on new artwork for the walls—large black and white pieces of various genres. Combined with a new paint scheme of red and grey, the studio has a fresh, modern feel to it.
While the fire damage was being dealt with, we found a short-term let nearby and it made sense for us to live there, together.
Once we started, we hadn’t wanted to stop, so as soon as we learned that the flat would be ready at the same time as the shop, we barely needed to have the conversation.
We both instinctively knew we’d be living there together.
Art turns to me and pulls me in closer, before kissing me with soft, feathering kisses on the corner of my mouth, across my jaw, and to my ear. “You ready to be my first customer?” he says softly against my lobe.
“I’m only your first customer if you let me pay.”
“Bullshit. I’m not letting you pay.”
“But I want to. You’re supposed to be working with more paying customers, remember?”
He stares at me, and lifts his eyebrows. “Tess. Shut the hell up and sit in the chair. Remember what I said, if I tattoo complete strangers for free, I’m not taking money from the woman I love.”
I laugh. “Okay, okay. I’m sitting down.”
I slip into the soft leather chair and recline so I lay flat. Art’s tough-looking, handsome face comes into view above me. I barely see the tattoos and piercings anymore. They’re just a part of who he is, like the cat-shaped birthmark I have on my calf, or the scars that litter my inner arms.
He cleans my skin, cool wipes against hot flesh. “So you’re really gonna let me do this? Your first ever tattoo.”
“You’re taking my tattoo virginity,” I say with a flirtatious smile.
“And I’ll take the rest of you later,” he smirks, sending a thrill through me.
I bite my lower lip and the moment of fun passes, replaced by a more serious air.
Art prepares the ink then pauses above me. “You can still back out. You know it won’t make me think any differently of you.”
“I know.” I force down my nerves. “I want this. Hide my scars.”
“What you’ve chosen is perfect.”
I nod. Cherry blossom, a symbol not only of new life and change, but also of how fleeting life is. “I think so, too.”
And he presses the needle to my skin.