7. Cisco
Cisco
“ A lright, I’m gonna stay up here and give you time to check the space out.
” Ernesto leaned against the wall, positioning himself underneath the shop’s AC vent.
Sweat rolled down his agent’s forehead at an alarming rate, but that was what Ernesto got for wearing a three-piece suit during a heat wave.
Cisco left Ernesto to fan himself as he walked through what was once an office building.
There were remnants of clunky desks and ancient-looking computers littering some of the space.
Besides the few remaining pieces of old technology, the property was vacant, giving Cisco a blank canvas to imagine what his shop could look like.
There were four distinct areas, plus a receptionist area. He could hire four new artists, all specializing in different areas. Line work, shading, color, and maybe cover-ups. A piercer would be nice to have as well.
The location for this shop was ideal, surrounded by restaurants, bars, and local shops. He may have to field a few drunks attempting to get tattoos, but what parlor didn’t deal with that shit? It was a small price to pay for a location in the heart of the city.
As it was, the building was in good shape.
He’d have to paint the walls to match his gothic aesthetic.
Right now, they were a horrid beige color that made him want to claw his eyes out.
Ernesto mentioned the building recently got new tile floors, but he would replace the tile with dark wood flooring.
As far as projects went, it seemed straightforward and something that wouldn’t break the bank.
By the time Cisco made it back to the front, Ernesto had lost some of the redness to his cheeks and was no longer sweating buckets. His realtor smiled. “So, what do you think? Good property, no?”
“It’s a damn good property,” Cisco agreed.
The floor-to-ceiling windows behind Ernesto looked out onto the busy street.
It wasn’t even a weekend, and there were still crowds of people coming to and from the various businesses.
A tattoo shop would thrive under these conditions.
The asking price for this property was steep, but the evidence as to why was outside.
“If you are seriously considering this, then you’re gonna need to make an offer and fast.” Ernesto always told it as it was and didn’t sugarcoat anything.
It was one of the reasons Cisco liked working with him so much.
Another being Ernesto was a proud Mexican man who fought hard for his clients, especially the brown men who got passed up time and time again for their white counterparts.
It was all a part of business, no matter how shitty it was.
“What are your thoughts about the place?” Cisco trusted Ernesto’s professional opinion.
Ernesto gestured at the window to the crowds walking by.
“This is a prime location. It’s different from your other two, meaning you’re going to get a new clientele and probably a steady flow of them.
The space is fantastic. With a few renos to put your stamp on it, you’ll have this place up and running in no time.
If it were me, man, I’d put my hat in the ring for this one. ”
It was a damn good location, and the space was perfect to take on a few new talented artists.
Both Golden City Tattoo shops could run themselves at this point and have an established clientele.
It would allow Cisco to spend more of his time at this location to get it on its feet and train his staff, at least until he found a shop manager.
He had more primos who would be all too willing to take the position.
His decision was made. “Make an offer,” he told Ernesto.
The man’s lips curled up in a smile. “Good choice, man. We’ll put in asking price, all cash like normal?”
Cisco nodded. “I’m willing to go up in price if it becomes a bidding war.” For a location like this, he imagined he’d be paying a little more than the asking price, and he was willing to dish out the extra funds if necessary. It would be worth it if it secured this shop.
Although everything was happening quickly, and Ernesto was already walking to the door, this moment was not lost on him. Ten years ago, if someone would have told him he’d have two successful tattoo shops with a third on the way, and be part owner of a music venue, he wouldn’t have believed it.
Ten years ago, Cisco was in a much different place, both mentally and physically.
A major event threatened to upend his entire life and take away his chance of a future.
Even after everything came to light and he was free of the demons attempting to ruin his life, the damage was already done. It took him years to restore himself.
And now he was a first-generation college graduate with two, almost three successful business endeavors.
His immigrant parents didn’t like tattoos, but they were still fiercely proud of him.
Cisco thought he was getting his mom more on board with tattoos, and he secretly hoped he would be able to give her a small one.
He’d happily risk his father’s wrath. It would be worth it.
The sweltering heat hit his body the moment they stepped out of the building.
The weather didn’t seem to deter the groups of people walking down the sidewalk.
The sushi restaurant across the street was particularly popular, with a line starting to form on the street.
A large handmade sign indicated it was happy hour and advertised all their happy hour deals.
“Look, you’ll be next to a popular restaurant and a wine store that’s opening soon.
” Ernesto gestured to the stucco building next door.
It looked like the building was pulled out of a picturesque town in Italy and moved here.
A trellis with leafy vines decorated the front of the store.
By the window was an arrangement of colorful potted plants.
The curb appeal of the wine shop was hard to resist.
“Too bad wine sucks,” Ernesto mumbled under his breath.
As if summoning the winemakers themselves, the door opened on the shop, chiming a bell from up above the door frame.
An older, stout white man stepped out first. His salt-and-pepper hair—or rather what was left of it because of his receding hairline—was cropped close to his head, neat and tidy.
He was clean-shaven and wore neatly pressed brown trousers with a bright yellow polo shirt.
He looked as if he could be on his way to go golfing.
The man exuded wealth, reminding him of someone’s rich grandpa who enjoyed spoiling his grandchildren.
Then a woman stepped out behind him. She was younger, with a darker complexion the color of clay. He nearly looked away until he caught her features in his peripheral vision. Long, dark hair covered her face, but Cisco didn’t need to see it to know those long, gorgeous legs belonged to Marisol.
Who had still not answered him about the concert.
Before he could fully think out his plan, Cisco changed directions and started to walk toward the mysterious older man and Marisol. “Hey, where ya going?” Ernesto asked, but Cisco ignored him. Neither the man nor Marisol took notice of Cisco until he was right in front of them.
Cisco watched all the color drain from Marisol’s face, her eyes widening at his abrupt appearance. He couldn’t blame her for her reaction. She probably thought she was free of him.
“Hi,” was his brilliant greeting. Now the attention of the older man was on him too. He didn’t seem mad, just curious.
“Hi there. Are you here about the opening?” the man asked.
Cisco didn’t understand what he meant until he saw the red and white “Help Wanted” sign hung precariously on the window.
“Oh, no. Actually, I’m interested in purchasing the building next door.” Cisco gestured to the neighboring shop.
The man stuck out his bottom lip and nodded as if Cisco had just gotten a right answer on a test. “You don’t say? What business are you in?”
“Tattooing. Looking to open my next tattoo shop here.” Cisco waited for judgment to follow.
To the man’s credit, he only looked more intrigued.
“Fascinating. What does that entail?” He looked ready to hear Cisco’s full business plan.
Talking about his business was not the reason Cisco approached the two of them.
He wanted to speak to Marisol, who had still not acknowledged his presence other than shock.
He didn’t know how to get out of this conversation and was about to share his business plan with this strange man before Marisol found her voice. She gently touched the man’s arm, and he turned to face her. His face softened as he smiled.
“Daddy,” she started, answering Cisco’s unasked question about their relationship. “Do you mind waiting for me in the car? Cisco is a…friend. I want to catch up with him really quickly.” She batted her long eyelashes at her father, who nodded.
“Travis Roberts,” he said, extending his hand.
Cisco took it. “Francisco Ramos, but you can call me Cisco.”
“It was nice to meet you, Cisco,” he said and let his hand drop. He leaned over to kiss Marisol’s forehead before heading to a black Bentley, leaving the two of them alone.
Marisol rounded on Cisco. “What are you doing here?” she asked accusatorially, as if he planned on following her.
“I really was here to look at the shop next door,” he said. “I had no idea it was next to”—he looked back at the wine store and gestured to it—“this.”
“Yeah, my father owns a winery and has outsourced to local shops for years. This is his first brick and mortar shop,” she explained, eyes darting between Cisco and the car.
The windows were tinted, but he’d bet her father was watching their entire interaction.
It explained why Marisol was so stiff and looked ready to bolt.
She had been tense in his chair, but eventually eased up.
He doubted he’d get the same reaction from her now.
He had a unique opportunity at hand, and although it wasn’t the ideal time, he didn’t want to waste it. “About next Saturday?—”
“It’s fine if you want to take someone else,” Marisol interrupted. “I know you were just being kind. ”
Being kind was opening the door for her or picking up something she dropped. No, Cisco wasn’t being kind. He was interested. “No, the offer still stands. I would like for you to go with me.”
“Oh,” she said softly, an undeniable smile ghosting her lips.
Of course, he could be interpreting her nervousness for reluctance, and maybe she was not interested in going out with him. That would suck, but he would accept her no.
“I…still haven’t had time to check my calendar. Can I let you know tomorrow? I have your number still.”
He supposed it was a good sign she hadn’t thrown his card away. Still, he couldn’t help the disappointment that took over. “Sure. I’ll talk to you tomorrow then.”
“Tomorrow,” she agreed. “Goodbye, Cisco.” Marisol offered him a tight smile before she walked away from him.
Her short, fitted skirt hugged her ass perfectly.
It was long enough to cover her tattoo though, which was what she wanted.
Even when she slid into the front seat of her father’s car, she took great care to keep her thigh concealed.
She shut the door with a resounding thud.
Cisco didn’t move back to his car until the Bentley drove down the road, taking Marisol and her answer about tomorrow further away.