4. Kaden
Kaden
There’s a certain calm that washes over me whenever I’m alone in the studio. When I can stream my music without anyone complaining, and the buzzing sound from the tattoo machine helps me zone in on the design I’m doing—I’m thriving.
Mom always said I’m a lone wolf and I guess that’s true—
“Ah, fuck!” My customer Jude’s words are muffled behind the face mask. I’ve been working on his back for some months now. He was basically glued to the door when we opened up again, begging for an appointment.
He told me he had this idea to do this right before the pandemic hit, but never got the chance before we all closed down. And then he saw my art online and was hooked.
So, I couldn’t exactly turn him down when he came asking, even though I really wanted to when I saw his design—two huge dragons, and a whole lot of shading, covering most of his back.
I knew it was going to be months of work, and I didn’t feel ready.
I still don’t feel ready some days, but I’ve got to keep a roof over my head, so here I am.
“You okay, man?” I lift the needle and wipe off the excess ink.
“Yeah…” he drawls, not that convincing.
“Your body’s not gonna thank you for not eating and drinking enough.”
Not sure who he’s trying to impress by refusing to hydrate, even though I’ve told him to, but it ain’t me.
“Yeah, no, I’m fine. I had a big breakfast,” he mumbles.
Whatever you say, man.
“How much longer though?”
I tilt my head back and forth. “Not more than forty minutes, I’d say.”
“Fuck!” He exhales. “Okay. Go!”
“You sure?”
“I mean, unless you…?”
I chuckle. “Nah, I’m good.”
I crack my neck, dip the needle back into the ink, ready to keep going when the doorbell chimes. I turn my head to see Seth walk in, a few strands of hair sticking out under his black snapback.
“Hey, babe!” he grins, sticking the thermometer in his ear. Yep, that’s on me. I basically threatened Kit into enforcing that everyone has to take their temperature before entering the shop.
I nod my chin at him. “Sup?”
He nods his head to the beat of “Follow” by Breaking Benjamin streaming through the speakers.
“Sully’s not in?” he grins, turning his snapback on backwards.
I snicker and shake my head.
Iggy Sullivan doesn’t approve of my taste in music. As if hers isn’t an outright assault on eardrums. Luckily for me, she’s an undergrad at UCSD, and only works here part-time, and I take full advantage of that.
The thermometer beeps, clearing Seth, and he grabs a face mask from the box beside the door, putting it on as he walks over.
“Hey, Jude!” he says. “All good?”
“Will be when this is finished,” Jude chuckles.
Seth’s laughs that hoarse laugh of his and walks around the counter to take a closer look.
“That looks sick, dude!” he says. “You’re running Ghost Black?” He bends down and examines the details.
“Yeah,” I nod. “0.35 mm Magnum.”
“Sweet!” He straightens and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Kit in yet?”
“He’s in the back with Diaz.” I nod my head in the general direction of the garage behind the studio where Kit keeps his bikes. “Why?”
“I’m borrowing his pickup.”
I scoff. “Yeah, right. Good luck with that!”
“With a face like this? Babe, I don’t need luck.” He winks, taking the face mask off as he goes. I shake my head and turn back again, picking up the machine to start back up where I left off when Jude mutters something under his breath.
“Sorry?”
“Uhm,” he clears his throat. “I’m sorry, this is so not my business, but he’s gay, right?” he rushes out.
“Seth? Yeah, he is.” I frown. “Why?” Not sure where this is going, and I swear to god, if I find out I’ve spent months tattooing some homophobe, I’m going to be so fucking—
“Uhm, is he single?”