10. Chapter 10
Chapter 10
Corbin
Saturdays are usually the busiest days at the shop. I love Saturdays, for that reason. It’s the one day of the week where I don’t take consultation appointments. I spend the entire day with clients, bringing their visions to life on their skin. It’s never boring and, in a strange way, it feels rewarding. I know there are still some people who look down on people with tattoos and think being a tattoo artist isn’t a real career. I think people who think that way are narrow-minded idiots. Being allowed to permanently alter someone’s body is a privilege that I don’t take lightly. I love what I do. I love being able to help someone express themselves in the way they want. Anyone who looks down on that can kiss my ass.
Today, Jessie and Noah are working alongside me in the shop. I’m lucky that the three of us get along as well as we do, especially working in such close quarters. Even if you count Jessie’s constant need to irritate the shit out of me, I know things could be a hell of a lot worse. The first piercer I hired hated my guts and didn’t even try to hide it. She left for another shop after four months, thankfully. For a while afterward, I got by doing the piercings myself. I’m licensed to do it, after all. But I don’t enjoy it as much as tattooing. I also lost out on a lot of business because many of my clients didn’t want a man piercing them below the waist. Which is fair. Luckily, Jessie seems to have built a rapport with men and women alike. I haven’t had a single complaint about her skills as a piercer. Plus, it frees up more of my time so I can stick to doing what I love.
By three o’clock, I’ve already seen two clients. One was a woman getting an ex’s name covered with a large floral piece. The other was here for another session on his sleeve. Not a bad start to the day. Jessie and I are eating a late lunch before my next client arrives when I hear the bell above the door ring. Noah is currently tattooing a client, and I have another half hour before my client is due to arrive. I look at Jessie, but she just shrugs and sighs.
“I’ll go see who it is,” she says, lowering her sandwich back to her plate.
“No, I got it,” I say, already standing. “Finish your lunch. If they want a piercing, you want me to have them wait?”
She takes a bite of her sandwich and nods. “Tell them it’ll be 20 minutes,” she says around a mouthful of food.
“Didn’t you ever learn it’s rude to talk with your mouth full?” I tease as I pass her on my way to the front of the shop.
Jessie just flips me the bird and continues eating. I’m still smiling when I walk through the door and into the public part of the shop, but that smile dies quickly when I see who’s standing at the counter. If it isn’t the naughty angel herself. Avery. I feel a little thrill shoot through me at the sight of her. That annoys me, so I tamp it down and paste an indifferent look on my face as I look her over. She’s wearing jeans again, but this time her shirt is blue. Her dark hair is down, falling in a straight curtain to her shoulders. Her expression is guarded, but it’s easy to understand why. I made it clear last time she was here that she’s not welcome back.
I know she’s probably here to get her sketchbook, but there’s a small part of me that’s just a little excited to see her again. Even if she is a liar. It takes me a second to notice there’s someone else with her. A short redhead wearing designer jeans and a fascinated expression peers around the shop. They’re both so obviously out of place here that I almost laugh. This must be another bored, rich friend of hers.
“Come to try and lie your way into a job again?” I say as I approach the counter.
Avery’s gaze flies to mine and I can see the moment she squares her shoulders, as if preparing to do battle. Damn if it doesn’t turn me on, just a little.
“No,” she says, doing her best to look down her nose at me, even though I’m at least a foot taller than she is. “I’m here for my sketchbook,” she says, her voice stiff and impersonal.
I admire her for trying to take the high ground from the start. Too bad for her, I don’t care about the high ground. I give her a confused look as if I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“What sketchbook?” I ask.
I see a flash of fear in her eyes before she quickly masks it with a defiant scowl. “The one I left yesterday? About this big?” She holds her hands out in front of her to indicate the size of the book. “You had to have seen it. I forgot it when you threw me out yesterday.”
“Oh, you mean when you came here under false pretenses, wasted my time, and lied to me about wanting a tattoo? Is that when you allegedly left this sketchbook of yours? ”
Her nostrils flare and I can see anger flash in her eyes now. It doesn’t take much to push her buttons. The thought nearly makes me smile. I don’t know what it is about this woman, but being able to rile her seems to be the highlight of my day so far.
“I wasn’t lying about wanting a tattoo,” she says stiffly. “I just don’t know exactly what I want or where I want it, yet.”
I roll my eyes. “Sure,” I scoff. “Because pampered, rich girls like you always want to let someone like me ink them.”
“Someone like you?” she asks, brows raised. “An asshole, you mean?”
I hear the redhead try and fail to muffle a laugh behind her and narrow my eyes. “I see you brought back-up this time.” Leaning across the counter toward her, I lower my voice. “What’s the matter? Afraid I might make good on that threat from last night?”
Her eyes flare again with something like anger, but there’s another kind of heat in them. The same one I saw last night when I’d had her delicate throat in my hand. My hand flexes at the memory of being wrapped around her neck, feeling her pulse flutter against my fingers as she’d tried to remain unaffected. And now my dick is hard. Fuck.
Avery finally manages to scoff and roll her eyes. “In your dreams. I just need my portfolio, and you’ll never have to see me again. ”
That thought should relieve me. Never seeing her again is what I want, right? She’s a liar, and the kind of woman who looks down her nose at someone like me who’s covered in tattoos and barely finished high school. I should be tossing her sketchbook at her and ushering her out the door as quickly as possible. I should be hoping to never see her again. But something makes me hesitate. For some reason, I want to keep riling her for a little longer. I want to keep pushing her buttons and see how far she’ll go before she snaps. So far, she’s been full of sassy comebacks, matching me every time. Few people try that when it comes to me. It’s interesting to watch.
“You’ll have to make an appointment,” I say. “I’m incredibly busy.”
Her mouth drops open in shock, and this time my mouth does twitch up into an amused grin.
“I just need my portfolio,” she says, her voice even, but growing harder in tone. “I don’t need to take up any more of your time.”
I shrug, glancing at my watch. “You’ve already taken up too much of my time today.”
Her eyes narrow and she speaks through gritted teeth. “If you’d have just given me my property the first time I asked, I’d have been gone already.”
She’s right, I know. I’m the one prolonging this encounter. But, in my defense, it’s fun. I enjoy seeing her face heat with an angry blush. I like the way her eyes flash with annoyance. And damn it, I like the way she doesn’t back down. She’s tougher than I expected .
I’m dimly aware that the buzzing of Noah’s tattoo machine has ceased, and I wonder if Avery and I have become the main attraction in the shop. Not that I care. She’s the one who’s here without an appointment, taking up my valuable time. Sure, it’s my lunch break, but she doesn’t know that.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Rules are rules,” I say. “You’ll need an appointment. You can go to our website and book one easily.”
Avery crosses her arms, mimicking my stance. Her voice is dripping with sarcasm. “Which option should I choose? The one that says, ‘Pointless conversation with asshole tattoo artist?’”
I hear a snicker from behind me and turn to see Noah trying and failing to hide his smile. When he notices me looking at him with raised brows, he clears his throat and returns to tattooing his client. The steady buzz of the machine fills the shop again. When I turn back to face Avery and her friend, her expression is conciliatory.
“Look,” she says in a polite tone. “I know we got off on the wrong foot. That was my fault, and I’m sorry. I should have been honest about why I was here. I was hoping that you’d overlook that when you saw my work. I was clearly in the wrong. But I have an appointment in half an hour with another artist and I need my portfolio.”
“Did you lie to them, too?” I ask. “Do they think you’re getting a tramp stamp? Those are coming back in style, you know. ”
She shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “No. I was honest. Unlike you, he doesn’t have a reputation for refusing to take on apprentices. In fact, he seemed eager to meet me. So, if you’ll just give me my portfolio, I’ll be on my way.”
I push aside my annoyance at her finding another artist so quickly. It’s what anyone would have done in her place if they were serious about pursuing this career. It’s obvious she’s serious, however absurd the idea seems on the surface. I just wonder why. Not that it matters. I want her gone. I don’t care about her reasons for thinking she wants to be a tattoo artist. There is one thing I do wonder, though.
“Who’s your next victim? Does he know you like to lie to get your way?”
She opens her mouth to speak, but the redhead beats her to it. “We’re going to Custom Skin,” she says, her voice acidic. “Can you stop holding her stuff hostage or do we need to get the police involved?”
I’m pretty sure it’s an empty threat because Avery seemed very against police yesterday when I’d threatened to call them. Not that I was planning to do it. She hadn’t known that. But that’s not the part of the redhead’s comment that bothers me. She’d said they’re planning to go to Custom Skin. Avery is hoping to apprentice there. I eye the woman before me, trying to imagine her working alongside the likes of Matt Young. I hate the idea for several reasons .
The first reason is that the mere idea of her apprenticing alongside Matt-Fucking-Young is ridiculous. I’ve seen her art, and I’ve seen Matt’s work. She’s way out of his league. She can do better than him and his shop. Not that I’m telling her that.
The second reason—and the one I’m blaming for the surge of anger I feel—is that Matt Young is a piece of shit. He preys on women, especially those who work for him. He tends to take on apprentices who are pretty and young, under the guise of mentoring them to become great tattoo artists. But most of them have ended up quitting before they finish a year with him. And only a handful have continued working in the field after. The tattoo world spans the globe, but stories and reputations tend to follow people. Matt is a talented enough artist, which is why he’s still doing business. But most respected artists try not to associate with him once they discover the person behind the art.
Again, I try to picture Avery working alongside him and I want to punch something. She’s just the type of woman Matt would go for. She’s young, na?ve, and sexy in an innocent way. It’s that innocence that Matt would home in on and want to corrupt. Hell, hadn’t I had the same thoughts last night? But I know I’m nothing like him. I may have fucked with her last night, but I’m not the kind of man to abuse my power that way. If she were my apprentice, I’d treat her the same way I treat Jessie and Noah. As an employee and nothing more. For some reason, that thought irritates me too .
All this whirls through my mind in the few seconds we stand there. To them, it probably looks like I’m still fucking with Avery, debating whether to give her back her book. Not that I ever truly intended to keep it. I’m not a thief. I just like verbally sparring with her. But now that I know she’s going to take it to vie for an apprenticeship with Matt-Fucking-Young, I’m inclined to keep it a little longer.
Avery sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose as if willing herself to remain calm. When she meets my gaze again, she gives me a small smile. Her voice is sickeningly sweet when she speaks.
“Can I please have my portfolio?”
I eye her for a moment before answering.
“No.”
Her mouth drops open in shock. She clearly didn’t expect me not to give in to her demands. She throws up her hands, clearly finished with being polite. That didn’t last long.
“Why are you being such a dick?!”
“It’s just his nature,” a voice says from behind me. “He can’t help it.”
Great. Fucking Jess is here to help these women gang up on me. I turn to glare at her.
“I don’t recall asking for your input,” I bite off.
She just shrugs. “Just trying to be helpful and informative, boss. ”
“As your boss, I’m ordering you to go back to your station,” I say, knowing damned well she’s not going to listen.
She winces dramatically. “Wish I could, but I could see you needed my help out here.”
“No. I don’t.”
“Sure, you do,” she says in a cheerful voice. Turning to Avery, she smiles. “Good to see you again. Your work is good.”
“Thanks,” Avery says, glancing between the two of us. “Can I have it back?”
“No,” I say at the same time Jessie says, “Sure.”
I glare at my piercer again. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”
I don’t give her time to answer before pointing toward the back of the shop. Jessie sighs dramatically and lets me lead her a few feet away.
“She wants it so she can meet with Matt Young at Custom Skin,” I say in a low voice.
Jessie’s smile disappears and she gives me a meaningful look. It’s clear she understands what I’m not saying. She sighs. “You can’t just keep it. You’re not a thief, boss.”
“I know,” I say. “But I don’t like the idea of sending some unsuspecting girl to work with that creep.”
She nods. “I get that. And I agree. But if you won’t work with her, what choice does she have? It’s not your job to save the whole world. ”
I sigh, raking a hand through my hair. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
She eyes me for a moment. “Then what are you doing?”
I open my mouth to answer, but the truth is, I don’t know what I’m doing. I just know I don’t want to send this woman to be ruined by someone like Matt Young. Her work is good. I may not want an apprentice, but she should have the chance to at least see if she’d be good at tattooing. If she works with Matt, I doubt she’ll get that chance.
“You need to figure it out,” Jessie says in a low voice. “And fast.”
She’s right, I know. But I still don’t like it. “Shit.”
Jessie grins up at me for a second before turning back to face Avery with a smile. “On second thought, I don’t think I can help you after all. Sorry.”
Avery’s face falls and she shoots me a glare. “What did you say to her? Did you threaten to fire her? I bet you did. That sounds like a suitably dickish thing to do.”
“He’d never fire me,” Jessie says, smiling up at me. “He can’t live without me.”
“The idea is starting to grow on me,” I mutter.
Jessie just laughs.
I walk back over to the counter where Avery is still waiting. “Cancel your appointment at Custom Skin. Come back Monday at 11am and we’ll discuss terms.”
She blinks her hazel eyes up at me, clearly confused. “Terms? For what? ”
“Your apprenticeship,” I say, turning to walk back to my office.
I close the door and then do something I rarely do. I lock it. I need a few minutes of quiet to think about the verbal commitment I just made. I’ve never mentored another artist. The idea has never occurred to me. And honestly, I’ve never felt up to the task. I’ve never felt qualified enough to teach someone else. I’m a damned good tattoo artist, but I’m not a teacher. I don’t have the patience for it. I fall into my chair with a sigh.
“Fuck.”
I somehow need to teach this woman how to be a tattoo artist while doing my best to keep my hands off her. I’m not an idiot. It’s clear as day that I’m attracted to her. And I’d have to be blind not to see that she’s attracted to me, too. But that doesn’t matter. I don’t allow workplace relationships. I don’t want drama in my shop. I don’t want any favoritism. I damned sure don’t want the inevitable chaos that comes when relationships eventually end. I’ve learned over the years that it’s best to keep work separate from anything personal. The closest thing I have to a personal relationship with my employees is letting Jessie get away with teasing me without firing her.
So, whatever this odd attraction is between me and Avery, I need to make sure she knows it’s never going anywhere. It’s to be ignored. If she wants me to teach her, she needs to focus solely on the work. And I need to focus on figuring out how to teach someone who knows nothing about tattooing. This is going to be a shitshow.