2. TWO
TWO
CORY
Present Day
My hand vibrated with the buzz of the tattoo gun as I packed in the last bit of color into the neo-traditional phoenix I’d been working on for the past six hours. The girl sat like a champ up until the last hour or so, and then needed a break what seemed like every ten minutes. Needless to say, it turned what would’ve been another half hour of work into an hour. But I planned for this sort of thing when I scheduled my appointments.
“All right, love, it’s done.” I wiped the extra ink off with a saline solution. “Go check it out in the mirror.”
The girl jumped up, the excitement and nerves of the big reveal were at odds in her features. This was my favorite part, aside from the actual tattooing, and I watched her reactions closely.
“Oh, my god, shut up!” The girl held her shirt under her armpit as she twisted and turned, examining the art embracing her ribcage.
“I hope you like it! There’s no going back now if you don’t.” Smiling at the girl in the mirror, I gathered the cling wrap and aftercare products ready to send her home.
“Like it? I love it! Like, are you freaking kidding me right now?” She was significantly happier than she was just five minutes ago.
Crazy what not having needles puncturing your skin at mind-blowing speeds can do for a person’s mood.
I laughed, snapped a few pictures for my portfolio and socials, and then got started on wrapping the girl’s abdomen with the clear film. “Leave this on for the next four to six hours, and then you’re going to wash it gently with this.” I passed her a bottle of special antibacterial foam soap. “Aftercare is pretty simple, but incredibly important, so don’t fuck it up. Keep it clean and keep it hydrated. When it starts peeling and scabbing, don’t touch it. It’s going to be itchy, but seriously, don’t touch it. And keep it out of the sun for a while.”
“Thank you so much, Cory! I don’t know how you do it! This is seriously amazing.”
I stood and followed the girl out to the front of the shop where she paid in cash, bless her soul.
“You’re delNKquent tattoos on Instagram, right? I wanna make sure I can tag you.”
“Yup, that’s me! Thanks for letting me stab you for a couple of hours. Keeps me out of prison.” I reached for my Red Bull and bag of Doritos, the bag crinkling loudly as I opened it. Without a doubt, my diet could probably use some work, but that was a problem for tomorrow Cory. Today Cory got very little sleep last night and forgot her wallet on the kitchen counter at her house. This was just what I had in my car, but if I was being honest with myself, it likely would’ve been lunch—wallet or no wallet.
The girl exited the shop with a laugh, and the high I was riding slowly drained from my body, leaving a bored and restless feeling in my bones.
“You got any more appointments today?” Glen asked as he joined me at the counter, flipping through the scheduling book in search of his answer.
Glen was in his late fifties with a thick, gray beard that matched the long hair he had tied back in a ponytail at the base of his skull. He looked tough on the outside, with skin that had a rough, leathery look to it, and was covered in tattoos ranging from innocent to obscene. His knuckles read “True Evil,” and I was never sure if that was a statement about himself or just a statement in general. His appearance may have given off scary biker dude vibes, but in reality, he was a big softie.
When I first came to Black Stem Studio and laid eyes on my mentor, I felt instantly intimidated, but then he opened his mouth.
“You’re Cory?” The disbelief that I was a girl and not a man was a common reaction. I was getting ready to defend my ability when he stood up and held out his hand. “Thank Christ. I’m getting real tired of all these twatsticks. Think you can show ’em how to pull a clean line?”
I loved him from that moment on.
He also turned out to be every bit the amazing tattooer and mentor I’d heard he was. He was patient and informative, but held me accountable for my work and my mistakes. If I messed up, he was hard on me, and rightfully so being the permanent nature of the job. After the shop closed, he’d pull out some fake skin and make me practice whatever it was I screwed up.
In a lot of ways, Glen was the closest thing I had to a father figure. Not that my dad was dead, he just sucked.
I glanced at where a few of the other guys were still tattooing clients. “Nah. I’m meeting a client to go over some sketches in an hour.”
He threw me a knowing look and nodded. “Right-o, kid. Let me know how it goes. I’m rooting for ya.”
I headed back to my station and started cleaning up. I wasn’t meeting a client, and Glen knew it. In fact, he was the only person other than Kinsley I’d told about my plans to open my own tattoo shop. In part, because the other artists at Black Stem Studio weren’t necessarily the most supportive. The guys weren’t overtly vicious, but I found myself constantly needing to prove myself to them, even now. It was little comments like, “Wow! You actually did a really good job on that one,” and, “You pulled that off way cleaner than other chicks.” They sounded like compliments but were really insults because if I was a man, like ninety percent of the people in this industry, they wouldn’t be surprised at my talent or skill.
The other reason? If I couldn’t secure the building—if the other interested party that my real estate agent mentioned had started the leasing process, finalized the deal—I didn’t want to come back with my tail between my legs, ultimately confirming all of their thoughts about me.
That I was a girl in a male dominated industry trying to be something I wasn’t.
Because, yes, I was a woman, but I could tattoo circles around those twatsticks.
I’d busted my ass to get where I was, working ten to twelve-hour days, six days a week. I’d missed parties and birthdays, going out with friends, and holidays with Glen and Kins, all to get where I was trying to go—to achieve the dream I’d been chasing for almost a decade. And it was finally within reach.
When I first told Glen, I was nervous he’d take it personally, or that he’d see me as competition, but he’d been my biggest supporter, other than Kinsley. He had some weird comparison about Koi fish and pond sizes that honestly went right over my head, but he had been by my side, helping me get all of my proverbial ducks in a row since the beginning.
Waving goodbye to him on my way out, I climbed into my black Jeep Wrangler. It was my first “big girl purchase” and I kept it immaculate. I rolled down the windows, letting the warm breeze fill the car with the first hints of summer, and reached for my sunglasses as I started the journey twenty minutes north through the streets of Boston.
The building I was hoping to lease wasn’t too far from Glen’s shop, which was honestly a bit of a relief because I wasn’t sure how to not work with Glen. I started my entire tattooing career at that shop with that man, and going off on my own felt bittersweet. I’d just have to drag his ass to lunch at the deli he loved.
My phone rang through the car speakers, Kinsley’s name lighting up on the center display. I answered with a smile.
“Hi, Kins.”
“Hey, babes! Where are you?”
My smile broadened. “On my way to look at what will hopefully be my new shop.”
Her squeals were loud, and I bumped the volume down a couple of notches. “That’s so exciting! You’ll have to tell me how it goes.”
“You know I will.” I stopped at a red light.
“Can’t wait! Anyway, I was calling because I wanted to know what you were doing this weekend? I snagged some tickets to a Rihanna concert and I know you love her.”
Kinsley was the Associate Director of Marketing for one of the biggest PR firms in Boston. She got free tickets for concerts and shows, and got invited to lavish parties all the time through work and the connections she made, and usually I loved it. Being friends with a boss bitch had its perks, but in that moment I hated it. Or rather, I hated that I couldn’t take her up on it.
My smile faded on a groan. “You’re kidding me! I’m booked open to close all weekend.”
“Can you reschedule them?”
“I wish I could, but I really need the money. Especially if I get this place. I’m so close, Kins.”
Kinsley was quiet a moment and then she sighed. “I know you are, and I’m so proud of you! I just wish you didn’t have to work so much to do it.”
“You and me both,” I agreed. And truly, I did. No one hated my inability to go out more than me. Missing out was one of the things I hated the most about trying to start my business.
Her chipper tone appeared a moment later. “Well, once you’ve got your shop, we’re going out and you’re getting laid! You’re too uptight.”
I laughed. “I do not need to get laid. My vibrator does an excellent job, thank you.”
“The fact that you think your vibrator does the job is evidence enough that you need to get some. It’s literally been two years since you got with Mystery Man at my wedding, which, I’m still pissed you won’t tell me who it was, by the way.”
Shaking my head, I turned down the street the building was on. “I told you, I don’t know his name and I still don’t want to.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I don’t know how you’re just going to forget the best sex of your life.”
Trust me, I’m not, I thought as I pulled up to the building and parked.
“Hey, Kins, I just got to the place so I’ve got to go. I’ll let you know what happens.”
“Okay, good luck! I love you!”
“Love you too,” I said before I opened my door and took it all in .
It was the perfect place for a tattoo shop. Not in the heart of the city where commuting to work would be damn near impossible and clients could never find parking, but close enough to get the foot traffic and attention.
Carla was already waiting at the back door, ever the punctual real estate agent, and I couldn’t tell from her expression whether it was good news or not. My heart, which felt like it was beating way too fast to be normal, was loud in my ears.
I shouldn’t have had the Red Bull.
“Cory, hi!” Carla extended her hand. “It’s nice to see you again. How was your drive?”
In the city, it was never, “How are you?” and always, “How was your drive?” They were pretty much synonymous, anyway.
I smiled and shook her hand. “The drive was good! How about yourself?”
Carla waved a hand flippantly through the air. “Oh, you know. It probably would’ve been faster to walk, but I didn’t wear the shoes for that.”
I looked down and noticed the trademark, red-soled heels. My mother had several similar pairs lining the walls of her walk-in closet.
“Anyway.” Carla’s voice brought my attention back up. “I’ll go ahead and get to what I know you’re wondering.” She drew out the last word, whether for dramatic effect, her natural speaking pattern, or to drive me insane, I didn’t know. It felt like ages between that sentence and the continuation, but she did finally continue. “It is still available to lease, if you’re interested.”
The relief was instantaneous, and the tension in my shoulders eased. “Thank God! That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.”
Carla laughed. “I thought it might be. The other party backed out, so she’s all yours if you want her.”
“Of course, but what happened with the other party? Why’d they back out?”
She shrugged. “Oh, they decided that they wanted to be more in the heart of the city. Apparently money isn’t an object for them.” She laughed and continued. “So, what do you say? Want to take another look?”
“Yeah. Yes, please.” I decided to ignore the comment that insinuated that money was very much an object for me because she wasn’t wrong.
Carla opened the door and held it open for me to walk through.
It was just as I remembered from the first time I came to look at it, which was to say it was perfect.
Black epoxy floors ran the length of the space and came to a stop at naturally distressed brick walls that interior designers no doubt paid an arm and a leg trying to replicate. Natural light from the late afternoon sun flooded in through the large window at the front of the building, lending a bit of airiness to the otherwise dark space.
As we walked further into the room, I could see exactly how I’d set it all up. I’d put the counter toward the front, over by the window. I’d hang some curtains as a partition right before the chairs so no one could see clients from the street, and the—
“So, what do you think?”
I turned to face Carla, snapping out of my daydreaming. A smile lightened my face. “Where do I sign?”
***
The ride back to my house was a blur of quiet excitement. My body felt like I’d accidentally swallowed my tattoo gun, and I found it impossible to stop smiling.
I did it!
DelINKquent Tattoos was finally going to be a real place, not just in my heart and in my head. There was still a lot that needed to happen between opening and now, but this felt huge, like my dreams were solidifying.
When I pulled up to my house in a Winchester suburb, Kinsley and Glen were already waiting outside, the former with champagne and the latter with flowers.
“How did you guys know I got it?” I embraced my friends with hugs.
Kinsley shrugged. “Oh, we didn’t, but if it didn’t work out, I figured we could just chug the champagne as a coping mechanism.”
“I was going to toss the bouquet behind your bushes,” Glen added.
Rolling my eyes, I motioned them up the stairs, letting them inside the house where we were immediately swarmed.
“Okay, okay, Siren! Let us get in the door!” I grabbed both sides of my excited pitbull’s face, giving scratches as I guided her out of the way.
Besides Kinsley and Glen, Siren was my best friend. She was a three-year-old rescue I had fallen in love with the moment I laid eyes on her two years ago. She was the sweetest, most gentle girl, who also happened to be the best cuddler and the greatest listener.
“I wasn’t really expecting people, so I don’t have much for food. I was just going to eat a Pop-Tart.” I threw my keys on the table.
Glen opened the fridge and helped himself to a beer. I may not have had food, but beer? I always had beer. And tequila. “I’m not eating your sugared cardboard. We ordered a pizza.”
That got a laugh out of all of us.
As Kinsley passed by on her way to the cabinet that held my glasses, she leaned in and whispered, “I know we’re celebrating the start of your new business tonight, but I figured, while you’re in a good mood, I should tell you I think I found the perfect guy for you!”
“I don’t need a guy,” I said at the exact moment that Glen said, “She doesn’t need a guy.” Because of course he managed to hear her. The man could hear everything.
She waved a hand to shush us. “You’re going to love him. Trust me!”
** *
I was running late, which wasn’t typically like me, but this was a date. A date I did not want to be going on, but Kinsley hadn’t let the subject go since she brought it up three weeks ago.
In reality, I didn’t have time to be going on dates. I was busting my ass trying to get the shop set up and ready to open in July. It was a fast turnaround, just short of a month and a half, but I had the necessary permits and the space was pretty much ready to go. The rest was just a matter of getting all the equipment in and the other artists set up.
“Are you there yet?” Kinsley’s singsong voice came through the phone, which was the complete opposite of how I felt.
“Yeah, I’m working up to getting out of the car.”
“Good! Should I let you go? Should I come to the restaurant in disguise and make sure you behave?”
I laughed. “No, you don’t need to babysit me, Kins, but do I seriously have to do this?” I pulled at the hem of my dress as I got out of the car to make sure I wasn’t indecently exposed to the public. When I felt confident my outfit was in place, I began walking toward the restaurant. “It’s just going to be two hours of him talking about himself and his interests, realizing my dick is probably bigger than his, and then eating generic Italian food in awkward silence.”
Kinsley’s laughter calmed some of my nerves. I thought about rescinding my original answer to having her show up in disguise, but knowing Kinsley, she’d show up in a bowler hat, sunglasses, and a fake mustache. All of which would look incredibly not inconspicuous on a hot, blonde chick .
“Okay, one, it’s free Italian food and you love Italian food, and two, he’s so not the kind of guy to talk solely about himself. He’s super sweet, and I think you guys will have more in common than you think. You really don’t remember him from the wedding?”
“You had a bajillion-and-one guests in attendance, and I’m fairly certain I drank half the country club’s stock of tequila, so no, I don’t remember anyone named Garrett.”
“Well, I’m a matchmaker, so trust me!”
She wasn’t, but I wasn’t about to tell her that setting up one friend back in college doesn’t make someone a matchmaker. Besides, I was fairly certain those friends had divorced.
“All right, I’ll give him a shot. But if this date sucks, you’re done trying to set me up with people.”
The entrance to the restaurant loomed before me, and I paused, waiting for confirmation from my friend.
She hesitated. “I’m only agreeing because I’m certain that after this, I won’t have to set you up with anyone else.”
I rolled my eyes, smiling. “Whatever you say. I’m going to get in there and get this over with.”
“I want all the deets! The juicy bits, too!”
A snort escaped with my chuckle. “Bye, Kins!”
“Have fun!”
With that, I hung up the phone and tucked it back into my purse. Taking a deep breath, I looked up at the sky and wished on all the stars that I could fast forward through this event and get back home to Siren.
I reached for the door handle and missed .
A large, strong, and familiar looking hand clasped the handle in its grip. “Lovely weather we’re having.”
That voice. But no . . . it couldn’t be. There were literally like two hundred people at the Beauchamp-Turner wedding.
I turned around slowly, and looked up into bright cerulean eyes. Eyes that I had most definitely stared into before while orgasming. Eyes that had been at the forefront of my mind every time I used my vibrator since.
Well, shit.