2. Julian #2
I hold my hand up. Absolutely not. Not on my fucking watch.
“I’m going to stop you right there. First, I’m a queer man.
I do not give a fuck about your gender. In fact, I prefer tattooing women.
” They just sit better, are more fun and talkative.
They’re all around warriors when it comes to pain.
“This has nothing to do with your race, gender, or any other bullshit besides the fact I’d bet my life that translation is wrong.
If you actually go and make sure it’s correct before asking me to put it permanently on your body, I’d be happy to tattoo you. Until then, we’re done here.”
“Where’s the owner? This is ridiculous!”
I ignore her. I’m done with this and I know Ian would have my back. “Anna, please give this nice lady her deposit back.” Where is Ian anyway?
“I’m going to give you a terrible review.”
“Right, well, you better get on that.” I stand, dismissing her and turning to my station to pretend to busy myself.
She stands still, stunned that I’m not giving in. I am not. She snatches her bag from my station, nearly knocking over the bottles of ink I’d prepared for her tattoo I will now not be doing.
She storms to the front, and I busy myself while I hear her bitch some more. Whatever. I’m not putting my name on it. It’s not that I care when people get tattoos in other languages that aren’t their own, but for fuck’s sake, do your damn research. It’s permanent.
The door slams with her exit. “Fucking fuck.” I throw my gloves at my station.
“What a bitch.” Anna bounces over to me and cocks her head in front of my face. “Hey. It’s okay, Jules. She was unreasonable. You’re fine.”
Hearing her say that out loud makes me breathe a bit easier.
Anna and I have this love-hate thing I kind of fucking love and she kind of fucking hates. She’s been here since day one.
She rubs my arm and I give her a grateful smile.
“Where is Ian anyway?” I say.
“Jules.” I look up at her confused face. “It’s the eighth.”
It takes a minute to understand. Maddox. “Shit. I feel like a dick.” I’d been so busy today I didn’t even realize the date. I don’t live by calendars, I live by sticky notes at my station, notebooks, and my notes app. Oh, and by Anna screaming at me if I forget something. Which is often.
My mind is still fogged from that lady. It takes a minute for my brain to start braining sometimes. I get so fixated on shit like this. I hate it. I don’t want this to ruin my day, but I already know it’s going to stay on my mind for a while.
I was right not to give her the tattoo. I know that. Still, what if I should’ve. Maybe I should have. I mean, it is her body. She wants it. I would have just—
“Jules.” I look at her. “You okay?”
“Uh, yeah. I just hate confrontation.”
She bounces and drops into my seat. “He’ll be here soon.” I’m happy now I didn’t call him to deal with her. That’s the last thing he would have needed today. “In the meantime. Tattoo me.”
“What?”
“You’re all set up. Whatever you want.” I survey her body; there isn’t much bare skin left.
Anna is a five-foot-two Vietnamese woman made of equal parts chaos and unfiltered mischief.
Her aqua-blue hair is twisted into two small pigtail buns perched high on her head.
A hoop glints in her nose. Two snakebite studs line her lower lip. A bar pierces the bridge of her nose.
She’s covered in tattoos. The most space she has is on her face, and even there she’s got a few. Music notes trail from her left cheekbone along her temple. On her right cheek sits a tiny flaming heart, and near her hairline says the word Madd in small script. I assume for Maddox.
Aside from her face she’s completely covered in ink from the neck down. Artwork layered over more artwork. She’s wearing a black tank top and green plaid flannel that hangs loosely on her smaller frame. It was probably Maddox’s. She wears it nearly every day.
“Okay, but you can’t look.” I pull on new gloves and look at the colors I’ve already pulled out.
“No dicks.” She shivers. “It’s like a tiny little jump-scare every time I see one in the wild.”
“Usually just makes me want to jump on one.” I wink.
She slaps my arm. “Gross.”
I laugh as she gets settled. I choose a small spot on her thigh, right above her knee.
It’s basically all I could find. She’s got thin black bicycle shorts on underneath the black denim ripped shorts she’s wearing.
“You know I wouldn’t embarrass you.” And I wouldn’t.
However, I will get my revenge. “Eyes closed, darlin’. ”
Trusting me way too fucking much, she closes her eyes and I get to work.
I let the buzz of the machine center my brain.
I don’t like disappointing people, but there was no way I was doing that tattoo, and I need to be more confident in my decisions.
I just second-guess shit and I hate it. “I shouldn’t have done it, right?
” I ask quietly over the buzz of the tattoo gun.
“You weren’t wrong, Jules. You did the right thing.”
I know I did, but hearing her say that eases the pressure lingering in my lungs.
Anna sits like a rock, as expected. “Almost done, sweetheart.”
“You’re the devil.”
I chuckle at the tiny smirk on her pretty black lips.
Finishing up, I wipe her down a little nervously.
We’re no strangers to pranks. One time I had a date and she switched out the condom I had in my wallet with a tiny fun-sized glow-in-the-dark one.
The look on that man’s face was priceless.
I was pissed at the time, but now looking back . . . okay, that shit was funny.
We’ve just never done pranks this . . . permanent.
“Okay, baby doll.”
“I’m going to kill you, aren’t I?”
“You love me too much.” She gags.
Opening her eyes, it takes her a moment to find it in the sea of tattoos. Then she finds the tiny rubber duck tattoo wearing a shell bra on her thigh. When she does her eyes darken on it before her glare locks with mine. “Oh you motherfu—”
“Hey, guys.” Ian comes through the door and Anna is forgotten.
To put it in simple terms.
Ian is fucking hot.
Auburn hair, tattoos covering most of his body. He’s got one on his throat that spreads down to his chest. I’ve seen him without his shirt on, and it looks like his entire chest disappears with the midnight black and punch of stars in the galaxy. Maddox did it, Anna told me.
“Ian, sweetie pie, you’re going to need a new artist.”
He sighs, going to his station. My eyes don’t leave the loose red tank top he’s wearing.
His toned arms are decorated with more tattoos.
One arm has a theme—woods, forest animals.
They pop against his pale skin in crisp dark black-and-gray ink.
His other arm is a patchwork of different designs, some that belong to me from when I first started out. “Why’s that, Grems?”
“Because I’m going to kill Julian.” She smiles wide. It somehow makes her look more feral. I don’t think she’s had her incisors surgically sharpened, but they look like vampire teeth nonetheless.
“What did Julian do now?” He quirks his brow like we’re fighting children. She stares at the fresh tattoo, and it takes him a minute to see it before the yellow duck sticks out to him. “Oh, you’re evil.” He laughs at me.
I smile, then remember why I had to tattoo her to begin with. “We may have a problem.”
“Oh yeah?” He turns to me, giving me his full attention.
“That client I had this morning. She wanted me to tattoo a song she translated on an app. I refused. She got really pissed. Went full-on ‘I want to speak to your manager.’ I just couldn’t do it. If it was wrong and my name’s attached to it . . . I can’t do that. She said she’s leaving a review.”
“Oh no, whatever will we do?” Ian snorts. “Don’t worry about it, you did the right thing. People need to have more care about what they’re putting on their body.”
“I wasn’t rude. I promise.”
Ian’s eyes swing to mine with a bit of confusion then sympathy. “I don’t think you have a rude bone in your body.”
Heat spreads across my chest.
“Pathetic,” Anna whispers.
“Fuck off,” I hiss.
I watch Ian go back to Maddox’s station. It’s real unfortunate that the one person in this shop known for her mayhem and mischief knows about my stupid crush. Not that I told her, but I swear she’s like a fucking secrets magician.
I ignore her and watch him sit down and open a drawer, putting something inside.
No one’s allowed in that chair. I wonder what goes through his mind when he sits there.
We should hire another artist. A piercer would be a good idea too.
Make a dent in our waitlist. I want to bring it up, but not today of all days.
“When’s your next appointment?” I ask him.
“At one. Then I have another at five.”
“That late?”
He shrugs. “I want to keep busy.”
The eighth.
“Do you want to go out and grab something to eat after that?” I ask, already knowing what his face is about to tell me.
“Uh, not today.” He smiles sadly. I figured, but I wanted to ask.
This is the thing about having a crush on Ian. It’s pointless. While I care deeply about this guy, I know there’s no space for me. I made peace with that long ago. Ian will never belong to me.
Ian belongs to a ghost.