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Squeezing my eyes shut,I held the needle in my hand as I attempted to breach the cartilage. With my surgical gloves on, I felt a bit like a surgeon ready to dismember this earlobe! Not that I would say that to the client, they tend to get a little iffy when you want to lop off body parts. Truth be told though, I hated watching the needle part.
No matter how often I did this, I always got nauseous. And well, when it was your job, it wasn’t something you advertised. I’d devised a way to stop from passing out on people. It was simple, really. I squeezed my eyes closed just before I plunged the needle through. Brilliant, right?
“Um, are you supposed to have your eyes closed?” the nasally voice of the overly perfumed soccer mom asked, breaking through my concentration.
Ugh, I hated when they noticed. Couldn’t they just let me have my process? I didn’t go to their jobs and tell them how to calculate numbers or some baloney-maloney mumbo jumbo! Geez, people and their expectations these days.
Mumbling to myself in response, “Keep your eyes open.” I realized too late it might’ve been louder than I intended. Not to mention, possibly a bit mimicky. Okay, there was no might. It totally did and it wasn’t the smartest thing I’d done today. I tended to forget that regardless of my eyes being closed, it didn’t mean they couldn’t still see me.
Apparently, my object permanence hadn’t advanced past childhood because I still believed if I couldn’t see the monsters, they couldn’t see me. Tragic really.
“Did you justmockme?”
It was on the tip of my tongue, but I held back the urge to do it again. See? I could be a grown-up when it called for it.
Squinting to appease the harpy, because yes, despite her calling me out, I still had my eyes closed. I lifted one eye to check if the needle was hidden from my purview. It was a bit of an ironic thing, to be a body piercer and yet hate the sight of needles. It really hindered my ability to stab people with sharp objects. Which double irony, I also enjoyed! This job should’ve been right up my alley. It was just the whole ‘eyes closing near needles thing’ people kept complaining about.
Seriously, people were the worst.
“Nope, that’s something Idefinitelydid not do, darlin’. Now, hold still and I’ll get you fixed up real nice. I’ve almost got it.”
Sticking out my tongue, another part of my process, and keeping one eye closed, I angled myself to push the needle in the correct placement on her ear. The stupid cartilage was always so tricky. Like, why did it have to be so hard?
“Okay, on the count of three,” I began, but before I could say one though, she interrupted me.
“Wait! I’m having second thoughts.”
Ignoring her, I counted off in my head.One, two, three. Pushing it forward, I squinted again as the needle pressed through. The customer tensed, but I ignored her and slid the hoop into the hollow needle, and then pulled it completely out. Snapping the clasp closed, I tossed the needle into the sharp’s container, happy to be rid of it and did a little ‘ta-da’ with my hands.
Stepping back, I felt proud of myself and smiled at my handy work, but as usual, no one appreciated the effort it took for me to do this job, nor my jazz hands. They were severely underrated. The customer looked at me in shock, a hand clutched to her chest. Furrowing my brow, I tried to figure out what was going on.
“What? Do I have something on me?” Patting myself down, I didn’t feel anything in my search. Instead of answering, she hopped up and stormed out of the store, knocking into people as she went.
“You’re welcome,” I called after her. “Don’t forget to clean it twice a day!”
The other employees turned at my shout, before rolling their eyes, and returning to whatever they were doing. They were used to me by now, and quite frankly, her only storming out was a better ending than most of my piercing jobs.
Cleaning up my area, I put everything back just the way Tatzilla liked it. The boss was very particular about certain things, and unless I wanted to reorganize the entire supply roomagain, I made sure to at least do as requested, even if I grumbled about it while doing it. I could follow directions when I wanted to. It was thewanted topart that was the key.
“James!”
“So close.”
Muttering, I dropped my head and shuffled my feet in my platform shoes to the back office. I caught Bubba snickering behind his hand as I walked by, making an “ooooh, you got in trouble” face at me. Being the ever-classy Southern Belle I was, I stuck out my studded tongue at him. At least it was decorative.
“How can I help you today, Evans?” I cooed in my best charming voice while I blinked my eyes at him. I even held my hands behind my back, the perfect picture of innocence as I teetered on my feet.
Tatzilla sat behind his desk, his tattooed arms crossed as he glowered at me. His dark espresso eyes lasered into me, and I didn’t recall a time when the man wasn’t making some sort of disappointed, angry face in my general direction. He was only a few years older, but half the time, I felt like an errant child who’d disappointed him simply by breathing. He very much had that ‘being called down to the principal’s office’ vibe about him.
“Cut the shit, James. Why did your client run out of here like her ass was on fire?”
Tatzilla glared, daring me to lie as he lifted his perfectly pierced brow. Which, thank you very much, I did! Now,thatpiercingwas a fun one!
Zeroing in on his eyes, I ignored the way my pulse spiked at the intensity I found there. Every time I was in a room alone with the tattooed beast of a man, I simultaneously wanted to punch him and make out with him. It was a bizarre feeling.
“Oh, you mean the completely satisfied customer I just had?” I countered with my best sickly-sweet voice.
“Is that what you callsatisfied?” I ignored the sexual innuendo and kept up my act.
