Chapter 7
SEVEN
HARPER
Ximena is really excited to pop the champagne, and impatient, too.
“We can’t keep waiting. Everyone’s here already.”
“Not everyone,” seven-year-old Bruiser pipes up. “Dad’s not here.”
Ximena rolls her eyes and I step in front of Bruiser so he doesn’t see her disrespect for his father. I try to protect his relationship with his dad even if things in the past couple of years between Z and me haven’t always been…
Look, no one ever said life was going to be all roses and sunshine, right?
Bruiser has a dad who’s around… sometimes. It’s more than I could say when I was a kid. And when Z is here, he’s really great and present. Mostly.
For me, anyway.
I know Bruiser’s always hungry for more of his dad’s attention and I do my damndest to foster their relationship.
Z is just always so tired ever since he started doing these longer hauls.
But he’s obsessed with the bigger dollar amount he can make on them, even though I’ve got the shop now and bring in a good income, too.
But Z won’t stop talking about putting a downpayment on a house and getting Bruiser into one of the best school districts in Austin.
Dream, dream, dream.
That’s all we ever seem to do.
When will we stop dreaming and start living? I wonder sometimes.
With my shop, I try not to let the days pass me by for that reason. I want to make sure I’m living my dreams.
Because as far as I can tell, I have everything I’ve always wanted. If it’s not as shiny as it was in the movies and on TV, well, I always knew that was fiction.
It’s a helluva lot more amazing out here in the real world than I really thought I’d ever get, if I’m being honest.
I’ve got the best damn kid in the whole fucking universe. If he’s a little quiet sometimes and I worry about him, well, that’s just par for the course of being a good parent, right? Being the complete opposite of the way my parents were.
I was absolutely terrified every second when he was a baby, and still am most of the time, if I’m honest. But occasionally here and there, I think maybe I’m starting to get the swing of things.
Opening my own tattoo shop and making my own money has helped, confidence-wise.
“Accept it. He’s not coming,” Ximena says after Z’s still a no-show a half hour later, and I don’t miss the scathing judgment in her voice.
“Hush,” I whisper, seeing Bruiser on his knees at the front couch of the shop, face pressed to the window.
Louder I say, “I’m sure Z got held up in traffic, so let’s get on with the celebration. Someone has to be in bed early for school tomorrow.”
Any other first-grader might start to whine or throw a fit, but Bruiser’s head just drops and he turns around on the couch and plops disappointedly onto his butt.
“Okay, let’s get this party started,” Ximena says, clapping with the enthusiasm that’s suddenly completely deflated for me at seeing my son’s disappointment. Sometimes I think I could forgive Z anything except the way he continually disappoints our son.
Just be on Goddamned time for once. How hard is that? Doesn’t he see how the kid looks at him like he hung the damn moon?
“The amazing Harper Tucker has brought this shop from just a no-name hole-in-the-wall to a prestige location in just three years, giving my broke ass a job—”
“As the best shop manager in town,” I manage to break in, trying to get back into the swing of things. This celebration isn’t just for me, it’s for the whole shop. The last few years have been a real bitch to get us to this three-year anniversary.
Ximena grins at me. “Naturally with me at the helm as the world’s best shop manager.”
Some good-natured boos come from the crowd—Ximena’s cousins are here celebrating with us.
Not just Elio and Lorenzo who I first interned with when I was learning to ink.
But also Gael, Ramiro, and Reina, who interned with Elio, too, but came to work with me when other shops weren’t hiring back after the pandemic, and I had plenty of open chairs.
Yes, officially we compete with Elio, but unofficially they’re a sister shop in town and we refer clients back and forth. Especially now that we’re both building bigger reputations and booking further out.
Social media has really helped. Not to mention that the last couple years, I’ve really developed my style.
When Elio first realized I was good with fine line, he set me up as his single-needle specialist. From there I’ve gone onto do a lot of work in micro-realism, which has been a hit lately in Austin.
I still do smaller pieces mostly—skulls, pets, creepy abstracts, gothic florals—but you can charge top dollar if you know what you’re doing. And I know what I’m doing.
More than that, I’ve gotten to become part of the artistic vibe here in Austin, which has been really special. Beyond Ximena and the cousins, I’ve gotten to know the tattoo community at large, and even helped paint a mural near Zilker Park last year.
I’m learning family can be more than just where you come from. I’m determined to teach Bruiser the same, so he never has to feel alone and out of options the way Z and I did. Those first few weeks when we didn’t have anywhere to sleep before Dani took us in still keeps me up some nights.
I know now what a fluke her kindness was and how much worse shit could’ve gone for us. Plenty of street kids get lost in the seedier alleys of Sixth Street and never make it out.
Especially pregnant, even if I didn’t know it at the time, and being so desperate… I mean, I thought things were bad at Darlene’s house, but at least then I had a roof over my head. I didn’t really know the meaning of desperation yet.
Outside on the little patio beside the shop that’s shared between us and Rosalita’s—the most authentic Mexican food you can get outside of Mexico City, or so Elio and Lorenzo claim—the band starts up.
Toss a rock and you’ll hit a musician here in Austin, and Ximena and her cousins are all talented in one way or another.
The recognizable opening bass lines of Seven Nation Army make me smile.
Elio opens every day at his shop with the song.
Sometimes I keep the tradition, and even hearing the thumping bass melody makes me itch for a tattoo machine even though my forearm aches from inking all day.
But at least Bruiser’s bopping his head along to the music, momentarily distracted from watching for his dad.
“Speech!” Reina calls out, raising her drink.
“Speech, speech!” the others join in, and I feel my cheeks heat up.
I don’t do this. I don’t do being the center of attention in a good way.
Usually when people are looking at me, it’s because I fucked something up or because I’m that crazy bitch from deep in the East Texas woods who showed up pregnant and homeless and somehow clawed her way into having something that looks like a real Goddamn life.
But Ximena’s already pushing me toward the center of the little crowd gathered on the patio, and Bruiser’s watching me with those big eyes, and fuck it—why not?
Eight years ago I was sleeping in Dani’s spare bedroom wondering if I’d ever stop feeling like the ground was gonna give out under me any second.
“Alright, alright,” I say, holding up my hands. “I’m not good at this shit, so bear with me.”
A few laughs ripple through the group.
“Three years ago, I had no fucking clue what I was doing. Still don’t, most days.
” More laughter. “But you assholes—” I gesture at Reina, Gael, Ramiro “—you took a chance on working with a twenty-two-year-old who’d barely started inking professionally.
And definitely shouldn’t have been given a loan for this shop. ”
Everybody laughs because they know it’s fucking true.
The loan officer was staring at my tits for most of the loan interview as he ran my credit history and I could see that even he was surprised I had five years of good credit.
It was only because Helen convinced me to open a gas card and pay it off every month—even though she was the one making the payments at first. She said it would pay off in a circumstance exactly like this.
I grin out at my new family even as there’s a sting of old pain thinking about Helen. But God knows I’ve tried my best to learn from past mistakes and to do right by the people I love now.
“You could’ve gone anywhere or waited for Elio to have openings. But you came here, to this shitty little space with the fucked-up AC that still doesn’t work right—”
“Preach!” Gael calls out.
“—and you made it not shitty. You made it ours.”
The words catch in my throat a little. I clear it and keep going.
“And Ximena, you magnificent pain in my ass, you kept this place running when I was so deep in my own head about designs and bookings that I would’ve let the whole business side fall apart. You’ve got my back even when I’m being Scorpio as hell, which is basically always.”
Ximena blows me a kiss. “Damn right.”
I look over at Elio and Lorenzo. “And you two... you gave a scared kid a chance when nobody else would. You taught me everything. You didn’t have to do that. Most people wouldn’t have.”
Elio raises his bottle toward me. “We just gave you the tools. You built this.”
Something hot and uncomfortable tightens in my chest. The good kind of uncomfortable. The kind that makes my eyes sting.
“To Harper!” someone shouts.
“To the best fucking boss in Austin!” Ramiro adds. There’s a round of cheers and raised drinks.
“Hey, what about me?” Elio grandstands, only making everybody laugh more.
“Wait, wait,” Gael jumps in, grinning. “I gotta say something too.”
“Oh God,” I mutter, but I’m smiling.