12. Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Corbin
I don’t emerge from my office until I’m certain Avery and her friend are gone. I’m not in the mood to play nice with them or try to explain my decision. Hell, I'm not even sure I can explain it to myself. I should have known Jessie wouldn’t let me get away that easily, though. When I open my office door, she's waiting for me, a knowing grin on her face.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I say. “ It’s creepy.”
If anything, her smile grows wider. “I like her.”
I roll my eyes at her. “You don’t even know her.”
I brush past her on my way to the small employee break room in the back. Of course, she follows me. My sandwich is still sitting there, half-eaten. I probably have time to finish it before my next client arrives, but I don’t have much appetite anymore. All I can think of is the agreement I just made and how badly I’m going to fuck it up.
“I’m a good judge of character,” Jessie says. “Sometimes.”
I eye her at that muttered word. “Sometimes?”
She shrugs. “Better than I used to be.”
That’s the closest she ever comes to talking about her past. Cryptic comments that lead to more questions than answers. I’m about to ask her what she means by that when I hear the bell over the front door open and Noah call out a greeting.
“I guess we’ll find out if you’re right,” I mutter as I wrap up my sandwich and put it in the fridge.
“I think this could be a good thing,” Jessie says. “We need some help around here. You work too hard. Having someone to handle the simple, daily stuff could help lighten your load a little. I know how much you hate being in that office.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Why are you so nosy?”
“Perceptive,” she corrects. “And it’s obvious to anyone who knows you. Noah can see it, too. ”
“Noah can see what?” Noah asks as he enters the room.
“That he likes tattooing but hates everything else,” Jessie says.
“I don’t hate it,” I mutter.
“Oh, yeah,” Noah says. “I just figured that was your normal crankiness, though.”
“I’m not cranky,” I snap, making them both laugh. Taking a breath, I will my voice into a semblance of calm. “What? I’m not.”
Jessie pats me on the shoulder. “Of course not.”
“I hate you both,” I say, making my way to the door that leads back to the front of the shop.
“No, you don’t,” Jessie says.
“You love us,” Noah says at the same time.
“Feels more like a hostage situation,” I mutter.
I ignore their laughter and teasing as I go greet my next client. He’s a little early, but I don’t mind. Focusing on work will take my mind off my latest predicament. At least, that’s what I hope will happen. Instead, I keep seeing Avery’s face when she realized I changed my mind. Her expression had been a mix of shock and confusion. But behind that, there had been excitement. She hadn’t quite smiled, but I could tell she wanted to. And for some reason that makes me feel good. Which pisses me off.
Maybe Noah and Jessie are right, and I am just a cranky asshole. Not that they’d called me an asshole. No, only Avery had done that. Several times, in fact. The memory almost makes me laugh. She’d also called me a dick. Not that I can fault her for hurling insults at me. She was right, after all. I’ve been nothing but an asshole to her. But she’d deserved it. At least in the beginning. I can’t really justify my actions last night at the club. I’m still not sure what came over me.
Seeing her in that red dress had short-circuited something in my brain and my primitive side had taken over. I’d felt an overwhelming need to possess her. To show her that she was powerless against me if I chose. Not that I would ever force myself on her, or anyone. But she didn’t need forcing. She’d been completely willing, even if she had fought against her attraction to me. Fuck. Now I’m back to thinking about what it would be like to have her. That’s the last thing I need to be thinking about. She’s going to be my employee. And I don’t fuck my employees. Hell, I don’t even allow workplace relationships. It’s one of the rules. So, I need to stop thinking with my dick and focus on the best way to properly train Avery in the shortest amount of time. The sooner I get her out of Elemental Ink, the better for my sanity.
I spend most of the nearly two hours that I’m tattooing trying to brainstorm a strategy for training an apprentice as fast as possible. Then, I try to think of ways to make her quit as soon as possible. That would get her out of my hair and get me off the hook, right? But that would probably just send her running to Custom Skin and Matt-Fucking-Young. Which is the whole reason I’d agreed to take her on in the first place. Running her off won’t work. I can’t pawn her off on Noah. He’s good, but he’s still a little green. I’ve got about 5 years’ experience on him. Besides, he has a wife and kids at home and no time to take on training someone. It wouldn’t be fair of me to even ask him. I got myself into this mess. It’s up to me to deal with the consequences.
When I finish with my last client for the night, my hands, wrists, and neck ache. All I want is to go home to my apartment and sit on my tiny balcony with a cold beer. But Avery is coming on Monday, and I need to have a plan for what her apprenticeship will look like. Most tattoo apprenticeships last years. I’m not sure Avery knows that. Does she think this is something she can pick up in a few months and be good at? Just because she’s a decent artist doesn’t mean she’ll be good at tattooing. I need to make it clear to her that if she wants me to train her, it’s going to be a long commitment. I don’t want to devote time and energy into training someone who isn’t committed to it.
Sitting at my desk, I pull out a pen and paper and start making a list of rules and expectations. Most of them are the same as the ones Jessie, Noah and I already follow. But I add a few more that are more specific to what I’ll require of an apprentice. She needs to know that it’s probably going to be months before she’s allowed to use a tattoo machine. Even then, it won’t be on human skin. I won’t risk my name and the shop’s reputation by letting an untrained artist fuck up someone’s tattoo .
After an hour, I’ve added more than a dozen more items to my list. And I still think I’m missing some things. I’ve never trained anyone, and it’s been years since my own apprenticeship. Things are constantly changing in this business, so I don’t even know what I might be forgetting. Opening my laptop, I do an internet search for tattoo apprenticeships and skim through a few websites, making more notes as I go.
By the time I’m satisfied that my list isn’t missing anything important, it’s late and I’m exhausted. Jessie and Noah left hours ago, so the shop is silent and empty. I should go home and get some rest. I have three clients tomorrow that are going to take up most of my day. Not to mention the dozen or so other little things I need to do around the shop. I reach for the list I made, but the shop’s phone rings, breaking the silence. I flinch slightly at the shrill sound before glancing at the receiver. I immediately recognize the number, but I’m not sure why my sister would be calling the shop and not my cell. I reach for the phone to answer as it rings a second time.
“Henley, what’s up?”
Instead of answering my question, she asks one of her own. “Why are you still at work?”
I smile. “Someone has to keep this place running.”
“It doesn’t always need to be you,” she says.
I rub my eyes wearily. “I don’t trust anyone else to do it right.”
I can hear her sigh. “Maybe that’s your problem. ”
I laugh. “I’m sure that’s just one of many. You’ve got a list at this point, right?”
“You know I do,” she says brightly. “But that’s not why I’m calling.”
“Is everything okay?” I ask. “Why did you call the shop, anyway?”
“Because you’re not answering your cell,” she says with an air of frustration.
Confused, I fish my phone from my pocket and glance at it. The screen is black.
“Huh,” I say. “It’s dead.”
Henley sighs again. “Typical.”
“Add it to the list,” I say, grinning at her annoyance.
She just laughs. “Don’t you have anywhere fun to be on a Saturday night?”
Rubbing the back of my neck, I lean back in my chair. “No place else I’d rather be.”
“Liar.”
“Not that I don’t love these sibling bonding moments, but did you call for a reason?” I ask again.
“Actually, yes,” she says. “I was calling to check on you after last night. You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say. “You know I’m not a big fan of the club life.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she says. “But you need to get out more.”
“And I did. Just last night. ”
I can practically hear her frowning at me through the phone. “I guess I’ll have to settle for once every six months,” she mutters.
I laugh, but I’m trying to remember when I last went out to do something that wasn’t work-related or some mundane errand. I’m having a hard time remembering. Henley may be right, but I’ll never admit that to her.
“You didn’t just call to check on me,” I say, changing the subject. “What do you want?”
“Why do you assume I want something?” she asks, her voice taking on a slightly hurt tone.
“Because you would have texted if it was just to check on me.”
“How do you know I didn’t?” she counters. “Your phone is dead, remember?”
Shaking my head, I just smile. “What is it?”
“Fine,” she grumbles. When she speaks again, her voice shifts to a sweet tone. “I was hoping you could squeeze me in for an appointment in the next couple of weeks.”
“Ah,” I say. “She wants a favor.”
“Not a favor,” she says. “I’ll pay you.”
“Do you know how much I charge these days?” I ask, skeptical.
“I’m not saying I don’t want the family discount.”
“There is no family discount,” I say. “Actually, I should charge you more because your family.”
“Considering how fucked up our family is, you’re probably right,” Henley says drily .
We both laugh, though it was never funny. Growing up in our family felt more like survival than anything amusing, but for me and Henley, humor has always been our coping mechanism. That, and avoidance.
“What day were you thinking?” I ask, changing the subject as I pull up my scheduling program on my laptop.
“I know you’re busy,” she says. “So, tell me when you have an opening.”
“I don’t have any openings,” I say. “Except for Sundays, but that’s when I usually catch up on office shit.”
“You need an assistant,” Henley says. “Or an office manager.”
My thoughts go to Avery and her apprenticeship.
“Actually, I’m working on something along those lines,” I say. “I’ve got an apprentice starting soon. She’s going to help around the shop. She’ll handle some of the day-to-day things, so I have more time to tattoo my freeloading sister.”
“Hey! I said I’m paying.”
“I don’t want your money,” I say. “But I do want some of those turtle brownies from Jensen’s Bakery.”
Henley lives on the other side of the city, only two blocks from the best brownies I’ve ever tasted. I know I can make the trip over to buy them myself, but it’s hard to make time with my limited time off.
“Fine,” Henley says on a sigh. “Anything else? ”
“Get Jessie some snickerdoodles,” I say. “I don’t understand it, but she loves those things. Trash cookies, if you ask me.”
“Hey, they’re not that bad. Better than sugar cookies. Now, those are trash cookies.”
“True,” I agree.
“Okay,” she says. “I’ll bring brownies and cookies in exchange for tattoo time. Man, I love having a brother who’s an amazing tattoo artist.”
“I feel so used,” I say, injecting a hurt tone into my words.
She laughs. “Fine. I also just love you. Is that better?”
“It’ll do.”
“Tell me about this apprentice,” Henley says, changing the subject. “Isn’t taking on an apprentice more work for you, not less?”
I sigh. “Sort of. At first, she’s going to just be working in the shop. Learning the operations, the rules, protocol. Everything she can do without touching a client or tattooing anyone. So, after the first week or two, my life should get a little easier at work. Once I start training her to tattoo, that will change again. But that’s months down the road.”
I ignore the little voice in my head telling me that having Avery around me for hours every day and not being able to act on the attraction I feel is going to make my life a living hell. I don’t need to discuss that with Henley. I can only imagine her take on the situation. She’d probably tell me I’m crazy for agreeing to something that’s probably going to end in disaster.
“Since when do you take on apprentices, anyway?” she asks.
“I don’t,” I say with a sigh. “It’s complicated.”
“I’m listening,” she says.
I hesitate for a moment before deciding how much I should tell my sister. She’s always been perceptive, especially when it comes to me. I stopped lying to her back when I was a teenager, when it became obvious that I’d never be successful at it. She can somehow sniff out dishonesty. I think it’s why she excelled at business school and is such a cutthroat businesswoman now.
“Her name is Avery,” I say.
“Is she cute?” Henley interrupts.
I laugh. “No hitting on my employees.”
“You’re so boring,” she mutters.
“Boring is good. It keeps my life calm. The way I like it.”
“Fine,” she says. “But you’re missing out. Tell me more about Avery.”
“She just graduated from college. Majored in art and business, I think. Something like that. But her portfolio is good. She’s a talented artist. And she wants to learn.”
“Okay,” Henley says, drawing out the word. “But why did you decide to take her on?”
I decide to skirt around the question, since I’m still not totally sure why I decided to give Avery a chance. Part of it had to do with keeping her out of Matt Young’s clutches. But I could have just warned her about him if that’s all I wanted to do. I didn’t need to hire her.
“You said yourself, I work too hard,” I finally say. “And Jessie has been bitching at me about getting some help around here. Besides, I hate the office stuff.”
“So, hire an office manager,” she says. “You don’t need to sign on to be someone’s teacher for that.”
She’s right, I know. I could have hired an office manager months ago. Hell, I might still need to once Avery’s apprenticeship is over. But that’s a problem for the future. I’ve been running the shop fine so far without a manager. I can do it for a while longer.
“I know,” I say. “But she’s good. And if I can teach her, I think it’ll be good for the future of the industry.”
“Look at you, molding young minds,” Henley teases.
“Shut up,” I say, laughing. “I just know that there are lots of places out there that don’t take the time to teach properly. I don’t want talent to go to waste by turning her into a mediocre artist.”
“Makes sense, I guess,” she says. “I’m just surprised my grumpy big brother is taking the time to be someone’s mentor. Inspiring the future generation of tattoo artists, one apprentice at a time.”
“I don’t know why I’m even talking to you,” I mutter.
“Because you love me,” she says in a sunny tone.
“Can’t imagine why.”
She laughs. “Is next Sunday okay for my session?” she asks, switching gears again .
I think about the coming week as I look through my schedule. “That should be fine. 1pm okay?”
“Perfect,” she says. “And I’ll bring tons of yummy baked goods.”
“Don’t tell anyone I can be bribed by brownies,” I say.
“They wouldn’t believe me if I did. You’re too mean to everyone else.”
“I’m not mean,” I say. “I’m just selective about who I associate with.”
Henley laughs again. “Selective about who you’re not an asshole to, you mean?”
“Keep it up and I’m going to add an actual asshole to your back next week.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she says. “You’ve got too much pride in your work for that.”
“Who says it wouldn’t be quality work?” I taunt. “It’ll be the most realistic-looking asshole you’ve ever seen.”
“Fine,” she says through her laughter. “I’ll be nice.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“I’ll see you next Sunday,” she says. “And thanks, Corbin. For what it’s worth, you really are an amazing brother.”
“Stop kissing my ass,” I say. Then, in a more serious tone, I add, “Love you, Hen.”
“I love you, too.”
I end the call, still smiling. As fucked up as our family was, it’s surprising that Henley and I turned out as normal as we did. I’m amazed every day at how far we both came from where we started. Not that anyone but us knows about that journey.
I look around at the business I built with a sense of pride and a small amount of wonder. Some days I’m still not sure how I managed to get here. I know some people would scoff at a tattoo shop as a source of pride; but when I look around this building, I can see all the years of struggle and sacrifice that got me here.
I spent so many years trying to become a successful tattoo artist, working in other shops, going on the road, making a name for myself, finally opening my own shop. Then, I spent a long time building this place into what I envisioned. Then there were years where I was worried it would fail. Now, I finally have a team working with me, an extensive client base, and a waitlist that most artists would envy. It hits me that everything I’ve worked for is here, in my hands. And I’ve been too caught up in everyday life to even realize it. I keep working and striving toward the next goal or the one after that, not taking the time to enjoy where I am. The man I was 5 years ago would be ecstatic to be here now. This was the dream for so long. And I didn’t even notice when it came true.
I sit back in my chair and blink at the realization. It’s not like I didn’t know I’ve been successful for a while now. It’s not like I’ve been oblivious. It’s just that I haven’t really looked at it from the perspective of the past. I’ve been so busy trying to stay on top that I missed out on enjoying the fact that I arrived there in the first place. Maybe Jessie and Henley are right. I’ve been working too hard. I do need to start delegating more around here. Starting with my new apprentice.