Chapter 10 Hunter
HUNTER
“I heard you went to Chinatown,” Tate says as I sit at my station, prepping for my first client of the day.
“News travels fast,” I say, not surprised by that in the slightest. “It was a nice time.”
Tate slides across the area on a wheely chair she grabbed from someone else’s station. “Did you ask her out yet?”
“No.”
Her eyes narrow on me, and she gets in my personal space and drops her voice. “Why not?”
I huff out a sigh as I tear off a sheet of paper towel. “We barely know each other.”
“But I know you and I know her, and it’s perfect. I don’t usually stick my nose in where it doesn’t belong, but—”
Timber lets out a loud laugh, causing Tate to turn and glare at him. “I’m not sure you’ve ever said something so funny and unbelievably false before, Tate. You always stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. That’s why we love you so much.”
“It’s the Italian in me,” she says.
“It’s the Gallo in you,” Timber replies. “They’re all nosy as hell. You’ll see. I’ve never met a family so in each other’s business. And they’re the absolute worst at keeping secrets too.”
Tate glares at him. “I think it’s how all families are. We’re not abnormal.”
“I don’t tell my family shit. We all have our secrets, and we know better than to let one slip.
Sure, my family can’t keep a secret as a collective, but we all have our own individual secrets and know better.
You guys…” Timber shakes his head. “You share everything, and I mean everything. Word to the wise, Hunter, if you’re gonna date the cousin, Tate will know everything too. ”
“Are you bitching about my family? You seem to love them when you’re scarfing down their meatballs and pasta,” Tate says to him.
“Best meatballs ever, and I do love them, but I don’t know if I could deal with everyone knowing my business all the time. My family is as tight-lipped as they come.”
“I’m sad for you,” she says to him. “If you can’t share the deepest, darkest parts of yourself with the people who are supposed to love you the most, who can you share them with?”
“I keep all the deep, dark shit to myself,” he tells her. “The way it was meant to be.”
Tate just shakes her head. “Ignore him. Anyway, what’s taking you so long?”
“I’m not in the right headspace, Tate,” I tell her, finding the entire conversation weird because she’s now my boss. When we were only friends, this would’ve been an easier conversation, but now, my employment hinges on too much.
Tate leans back in the chair, crossing her arms in front of her chest, and studies me. “Zoey isn’t Natalie. And all that shit went down in a bad way. It wasn’t your fault, and you deserve to find someone who’s going to love you in the good and the bad. I mean, those are the vows we take, yeah?”
Sometimes I forget how long I’ve known Tate and that she knows a lot more about my life than anyone else does.
Maybe I felt there was a safety in telling her things when we’d only see each other at tattoo conventions.
There was a level of anonymity in the distance of our friendship back then that isn’t there now.
“Yeah. Some of us believe them, and some of us don’t,” I reply, grinding my teeth as I tear off a few more sheets, making a pile.
“Zoey wants someone who believes in those words too. I’m not going to get too into your business…”
“Too late,” Timber mutters, but he scurries away in a hurry when Tate throws a wicked glare at him from across the room.
“But when I see two people I care about and know are perfect for each other, I can’t help but say something. And I promise, if shit goes bad, it won’t have any bearing on your job here at Inked Southside.”
Famous last words. I’ve heard that shit before from friends who have set me up with people they knew, and as soon as it ended, I never heard from the friend again.
Even if it wasn’t my fault when things fell apart after a few dates.
Shit always gets too complicated, and lines blur until there’s nothing left.
“I’ll think about it,” I tell her, hoping it’ll be enough for her to drop the subject, even for a short time.
The smile on her face is instantaneous. “Good. That makes me happy.”
“If you’re happy, I’m happy,” I reply.
“What do you have to lose, Hunter?” Tate says as she uses her feet to propel herself and the chair back to its original location. “She might be your perfect match.”
I continue prepping, milling over everything Tate said. Could Zoey be a great match for me? Absolutely. Am I ready for that level of commitment? Part of me wants to say yes, but I made a promise to myself that I’d put Amira first, at least for a little while longer.
I need to give my daughter my full attention, pushing aside everything I may need for now. When things settle down and Natalie finishes treatment, I’ll think about opening my heart again and dipping my toe back in the dating pool.
“What are you doing for dinner tonight?” Tate asks as she walks by, carrying a box of new T-shirts she ordered for the front of the shop.
“I was going to grab a sandwich from down the street.”
“You can come with me. My family does a small dinner every Monday at the bar.”
“Can I come?” Timber asks.
“No.” Her answer is immediate. She doesn’t even look at him when she says the word.
“Jerk,” Timber mumbles. “A meatball, at least?”
“I’ll bring you two,” she replies as she drops the box onto a waiting room chair. “Happy?”
“Very,” he tells her.
“I don’t know,” I say to her.
“Everyone here has been there. I’m not asking you to do something they haven’t done themselves. I promise to behave. We won’t even talk to Zoey.”
I eye her, and although she looks sincere, I doubt she’ll keep that promise. “Fine. I’ll drop in for some food.”
“Good. You should have enough time between your second and third client. They’re small designs to start, but your third will take you the rest of your night.”
“Great,” I mumble. If I didn’t have a backache already, my night would end with one.
Melanie pops her head around the corner from the stock room. “I want a slice of lasagna.”
Tate groans. “Fine. I’ll bring a box of food back with me. There are always leftovers.”
“Maybe Betty will box them up for you,” Timber says, rubbing his hands together like he’s already dreaming of sinking his teeth into the meatballs he keeps going on about.
The front door opens, and an older gentleman walks in, looking like he’s lost. “I have an appointment,” he says, smoothing back his hair that has been blown around by the wind.
“What’s your name?” Tate asks as she walks around the reception desk to peek at the schedule.
“Luke.”
“Ah, Luke. Yes, you’re with Hunter today. He’s one of our best,” she says, giving me what seems like high praise, but little does Luke know, she says that about all of us.
I stand up, walk toward the front of the shop, and hold out a hand to Luke. “I’m Hunter.”
“Luke,” he replies, taking my hand in his, but his gaze is moving everywhere and nowhere at the same time. “Sorry, I’m a bit nervous.” He pulls his hand back, wiping it on his shirt. “I’ve never done this before.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll go slow,” I tell him.
Over the years, I’ve had more first-timers than I can count. Most of them come back for another tattoo after they realize it isn’t as scary as they thought or the pain isn’t as bad as they believed.
But Luke is a bit surprising. He isn’t like my usual newbies. He’s older, probably around sixty. Way older than most of the people who walk in here without any other ink.
I motion toward a waiting room chair. “Do you know what you’d like to get?”
“Something simple,” he replies as he slides into the seat next to where I planted my ass. “I’d like a rose, all black ink, along with a name.”
“What name?” I ask, wondering if I should give him my speech about adding names to your skin and the curse it usually puts on the future of the relationship.
I wish someone would’ve given me that talk before my dumb ass put Natalie’s name on my forearm, which has now been covered up as if it was never there.
“Grace,” he whispers. “She is my wife. Was.” He glances at his lap, his lips curving downward like his eyes. “She passed last year, and I want to pay tribute to her.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say, my heart aching for this man I don’t even know.
“She was the love of my life. I was a lucky man to find someone to love me the way she did, and I’d like to pay tribute to her in some small way. I want to carry a reminder of her on me forever, so when my cold, lifeless body is in the ground, she’ll always be with me.”
“I can do that for you. Why don’t you come back to my station, and we’ll pick out a rose design you’d like, unless you have something already in mind.”
“I don’t have one in particular,” he says as he pushes himself up from the chair.
“We’ll find you something,” I promise him as I stand too, motioning for him to follow me to my area.
It takes a bit longer than I anticipated for Luke to select the right rose. He’s picky, but I wouldn’t expect anything less for a tribute tattoo to the woman you love and lost.
“What’s this going to feel like?” he asks as I’m about to draw the first line.
“Some people say a bee sting, but I don’t know. To me, it’s more of a light and pinpointed burning. It’s not unbearable. You’ll be okay, and if you need a break, just let me know.”
“My wife passed of cancer. The pain she went through was more than I ever thought a person could take. I think I’ll be fine, Hunter. It can’t be any worse than the agony I felt when she died.”
I know the grief I went through when my parents died. It’s the only thing I can compare to what he must’ve gone through. I know it’s not the same, but the hurt and heartbreak were so deep, I sometimes felt like I couldn’t escape it, no matter how hard I tried.