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Turning to face him, I sighed, really fucking done with men in general tonight.
“Then what is the point, Murray?”
“The point is, you’re traipsing around here, acting like hot shit, when you need to be remembering you’re still an apprentice. You don’t get to make decisions. I do.”
“I’ve been an apprentice for over three years, Murray,” I snapped, relishing the surprised look on his face.
It was rare that I got riled up enough to talk back, but tonight I’d seriously had enough.
“I’ve done everything you and the other guys around here have asked. I’ve made your coffees. I’ve gotten you lunch. I’ve cleaned and cleaned andcleanedyour messes, day after day. And in all these years, my time with a machine in my hand has gone down, not up. Why is that, Murray? Huh? Why is it that the better I got at tattooing, the less you seemed inclined toletme actually tattoo?”
“I don’t think I like what you’re insinuating, Ricki.” His voice was low, and a bit scary, if I was being honest. Murray had always been a bit of a grumpy asshole, but he’d never been overtly threatening to me. But, as I stood there, trapped in the small supply closet with his big, burly body between me and the door, I was suddenly less sure of my outburst than I’d been a few minutes ago.
“I’m just saying,” I said, my tone much calmer than before. “I’d like to be a full-fledged artist eventually, Murray. What is preventing that from happening?”
Murray stood there, glaring at me while he considered my question, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the last three years of my life had been a massive waste of time.
“Get out there and get that tat finished, then you’re done for the night.”
With that, he turned and stomped from the room, leaving me no more informed than I had been before.
Making my way back to where I had left Francesca, her back now exposed but her front properly covered, I began to assemble my machine, taking care to ensure everything was in good working order. Once I had my station ready, I cleaned and prepped the area where she wanted the piece.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to use a stencil?”
“I’ve seen your freehand work,” Frankie said, her confidence in me and my work really refreshing. “Even your worst doodles are spectacular, Ricki. I have no doubt you’ll do right by me.”
Blowing out a breath, I picked up the machine, the familiar weight of it in my hand calming my mind and settling my pulse.
This.
This is what I loved. It was why I put up with all of Murray’s bullshit. Because with a tattoo machine in my hand, I could make magic.
And I would do so again right now, for my friend.
Setting to work, I leaned forward, careful to keep my head out of the way of the light I had placed beside my chair. The thing about tattooing with UV ink is that you needed a UV light in order to see what you were doing; otherwise, it was nearly invisible and you would have no idea where you’d been putting your lines.
Starting with the premise of the basic sketch Frankie had shown me, I began to draw, the vision in my head taking shape on the gorgeous, smooth skin before me. Over the next hour and a half, I put down ink, turning something so simple into something truly incredible. The crisp, flowing lines made the wolf look as though she was howling, her elegant throat and gently curving ears marking her clearly as a powerful female.
It was fucking sick.
I loved it.
When I was finished, I took a few photos before I cleaned and wrapped it, going over standard aftercare with Frankie while Murray and a couple of his regular hangarounds glared our way. When I had cleaned up, I headed out of the shop, tossing a small wave over my shoulder so that I wouldn’t look like a complete bitch.
Even though I really wanted to be.
Frankie was waiting for me, her eyes bright in the light of the shop’s neon sign as she smiled my way.
“Seriously, Ricki. I can’t thank you enough for fitting me in. I really appreciate you working with my tight timeline.”
“Speaking of which, are you gonna tell me where you’re going in such a hurry?”
The smile Frankie had previously been wearing dimmed a little, and I frowned.
What the hell was that about?
“It’s a bit of a long story,” she replied.
