Shit—I know a fainter when I see one.
“Here. Hang on.” I kill the needle, jump up from the stool and jog,run,practically, to the kitchen, the freezer. Rummage around for the ice pack I know is in here, grab it, and dash back out.
“Try this.” I drop onto my stool, scoot forward, and put the cool plastic at the top of his chest, the base of his neck. Pushing down the collar of his T-shirt a bit so it hits the skin?—
He jerks away. “The fuck are you doing?”
“I…” I withdraw the ice pack. God, and I thoughtIwas jumpy. “Sorry. It’s a pulse point. Ice—it’ll—on your sternum. Fights back the fainting response.”
“Oh.” Tink nods and takes the ice pack, his warm fingertips on my cool, gloved ones. “Thanks.”
I can see the sheen of sweat glimmer on his forehead as he settles it back on the bottom of his neck, carefully.
“Fuck,” he mutters, grimacing, as his eyes flutter shut again. “You must think I’m a total asshole. Can’t even get a tattoo.”
“Eh, we’ve all got our shit,” I mumble. “Besides, beauty is pain, or whatever they say. Except the pain doesn’t last. Just the?—”
“Yeah.” He swallows, removes the ice pack, and looks at his tattoo again. The color back in his cheeks and lips. Those dark eyes bright again. “The beauty.”
CHAPTER 26
TINK
By that night,the pain’s almost gone.
Absentmindedly, I run a fingertip over the second skin wrap on the inside of my arm. Not so much a sting, but just kind of a dull throb. I already kind of wish I hadn’t gotten it on my dominant arm, but too late for that.
Too late to go back on a lot of things now.
“All right, people, look alive.” Pan strides across the floor of the shop, clapping his hands and smacking them together in anticipation. “Big night for everyone.”
“Let’s hope not,” Kit says. “How about a normal sized night?” He shoves a drawer shut on a metal tool chest and locks it.
A few paces away at the piercing station, Blue clocks it and snorts.
“You really think someone’s gonna pinch your fucking inks or something?” he says.
“No.” Kit’s cheeks darken a little. “I don’t want their dirty fingers all over it, at the very least,” he says, emphasis ondirty. He eyes Blue up and down and lifts his head as Fox comes in from the loft.
“What’s good, Fox?”
“Rugs?”
“Not much. We made a bunch of popcorn and I have about a bajillion movies lined up for her.”
“So cool, cool.” Kit nods, then looks at me. “You okay?”
Yeah, I’m fine. Kit used to be the one in charge of the float, but he never really liked doing it. Not that I like doing it either, but. It does let me keep an eye on Pan, and I think that’s going to be more crucial tonight than ever.
“All right, all right,” Pan says, rubbing his palms together again. “So, you’re babysitting—“ He points at Kit, who scowls.
“I would not call it that,” Kit mutters.
“You two”—Pan points his index and pinky fingers at Blue and Fox like bullhorns—“are watching the door and keeping people from roughing stuff up?—”
They glance at each other and nod.
“And we”—Pan darts a finger between the two of us—“are going to rake as much money off of these idiots as possible.”
