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“Why the fuck would you want your art on this asshole?”
Thanks, Aurora.
“Cedar, stop.” Aria steps to her sister, hands to her biceps, but she doesn’t remove her blue eyes from me.
“When?” I meet her stare with my own, accepting her challenge proudly, knowing that I’ll be at a complete disadvantage once I get in Cedar’s chair.
I don’t know her work, if she’s heavy handed, or what she’s going to permanently ink in my skin.
Maybe she’s trying for a dick on my face.
“No, Rex!” Aria is back at my chest, tapping at my pec.
“Right now.” Cedar tilts her head, her grin spreading across her face like a demon who’s just got their last soul contract needed to retire.
“Nothing on the face and nothing that will connect the media to you or Aria.”
We’re walking to the front of the shop before Aria can protest more, but it doesn’t stop Aurora from pulling at Cedar.
“Stop. Don’t give him your art, C.”
“Aurora.” Cedar halts at the glass door and grabs Aurora’s shoulders. “You have to stop. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
Without another word, she pushes out into the night air and disappears.
It also doesn’t evade me that Cedar does not acknowledge my request.
“Rex, you don’t have to appease her.” Aria’s hands are on my stomach, pulling my attention back to her beautifully lined eyes and cute nose.
“I know, but if it’s going to make her feel better, I’m ok with it.” I wrap Aria up and slip out into the night air, passing Jon with a nod of acknowledgment, to find the new guy perched across the street on watch. “Besides,” I lean down to whisper in Aria’s ear. “The faster I can get this over with, the faster I can be back inside you.”
She squeaks, heat radiating from her as we step into the tattoo parlor next door.
It’s after hours for most businesses, so the shop is dark except for the light at Cedar’s chair in the back corner of the open floor.
Artwork adorns every inch of the walls, ranging in styles and colors over toned designs. Canvases hang over each chair we pass as if the artist there gets a small part of the space to showcase some of their work. The ceilings are tall, painted black to hide the ductwork and wires that cross it and make it appear more open.
“What do you have in mind?” It’s Aria that gets the question out before I do when my ass meets the wrapped leather of Cedar’s workstation.
“Your name.” She says plainly over a shoulder, her hands already inside a pair of black gloves that pour and mix small caps of color on her toolbox.
“Hell no.” Aria stands directly behind her best friend, arms crossed in defiance of the shit that is about to go down.
“Ok,” I say to Cedar’s back, completely content with having Aria’s branding on my skin for the rest of my life.
“It’s bad fucking luck, Rex!” she interjects, throwing her arms up in protest. “What the fuck?!”
“It’s only bad luck if you believe it to be.” I shrug and meet Aria’s weary eyes.
“We don’t need to test the fucking universe, Rex.” She shakes her head at me, but Cedar doesn’t stop her prep of my next tattoo.
“If it’s meant to be then it doesn’t matter.” Cedar offers, spinning from her work with a tattoo gun in her hand. She fixes a small piece on the equipment, tests the pedal that brings the buzzing noise to life, and sets it on the small table next to me. “No amount of bad luck will make a difference. However,” she straddles the stool near my knee, pulling at her gloves to seatthem better on her hands. “If it doesn’t work out, then he’s gotta live with the reminder for the rest of his life.”
The rest of my life…
Hell yes.
“Where do I sign up?” I’m smiling, but I’m as serious as I’ve ever been. Aria’s concerned features meet mine as she wrings her hands in front of her.
