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When I swing open the door, the bell above it chimes. The studio is small but nice. I only have one tattoo bed. It doesn’t have the same feel as a shop with other artists. But right now, I need to lessen the triggers if I can, and Martina helped me realize that perhaps an open studio wasn’t the best environment for me.
I move to let Raine inside, and though I’ve said the shop is no big deal, it feels like a big deal to show her this place. I already know she’ll love it. The girl loves almost everything. But I feel as if I’m introducing her to a different side of myself. She knows Jack, owner of the Local. She even knows Jack the artist. But she doesn’t reallyknow Jack the tattoo artist. There’s a difference. Tattooing is intimate. When a client sits for a tattoo, they are putting an immense amount of trust into my hands. It always awes me a little when someone trusts me to make a permanent change to their body. Over the last month, I’ve been amazed at how easily people have put their trust in me. Ollie volunteered himself as my first client.I don’t really care what it is, he said when I asked what sort of tattoo he’d like.I care!Nina hollered from the next room. Ollie only sighed and said,I dunno, Jackie, just put the girls’ names on me or some shite like that.
Tattooing myself was easy. Giving Ollie his first tattoo was a little anxiety-inducing, but it wasn’t so bad. I spell-checked the girls’ names about thirty times. My mentor, Shauna, came to help me get things up and running at the studio and sat for a bigger piece. It shouldn’t have taken as long as it did, but Shauna didn’t mind that I needed more breaks than an artist normally would. With each tattoo, I’ve had to trust myself a little more. But tattooing Raine... it feels a lot more intimidating than tattooing myself, or my brother, or Shauna.
Raine takes a few steps into the shop, then comes to a halt. She’s still as she takes everything in, but when she turns to me, she does an excited little dance and skips back over, nearly knocking me down when she hugs me tight around my middle.
“I take it you like it,” I wheeze.
She still has her arms around me when she tilts her face up to mine. “You’re right. This isn’t a big deal. It’s a huge deal!”
“Oh, I don’t know.”
She lets go of me with a contented sigh. “Well, Idoknow, and this is a huge deal. You now owntwobusinesses, Jack. Two!”
“But they’re just—”
“Shh!” Raine points at me, eyes narrowed in warning. “You shut your mouth. Rule number one of Black Cat Tattoo is no brushing off compliments.”
I laugh. “Rule number one of Black Cat Tattoo is always wear gloves. And I don’t believe you have the authority to make the rules around here, ciaróg.”
“We’ll see about that.” She spins away from me and slowly wanders the studio. Like the day I showed her the flat, I follow her around as she examines everything closely. She doesn’t say much, but every now and then she gives a little hum of approval.
“Are you ready to see the design I came up with?” I say once she’s finished her inspection of the studio.
She gives me a confused look. And then I’m confused when she pulls her phone from her pocket and pries off the case. She takes out a small neon green paper. No, not a paper, a Post-it. She hands it to me, and when I unfold it, I realize it’s the drawing of a beetle I made for her that first music night at the pub.
“You still have this?”
“Of course! I was gonna hand it to you and say,I’ll have exactly this, please.”
“I think you’ll like what I came up with better,” I say, though when I hand her back the Post-it and grab my iPad from my desk, I start to worry she won’t like it. Which would be fine. She’s the client. It’s her body. But I was just so sure she’d love this. I started it the day she left Cobh. I can’t count how many times I’ve drawn and redrawn it.
I walk over to her, tapping into the drawing program to find the design. “Right. Here.” I pass the iPad into her hands. “We can adjust whatever you like. And I can tweak it depending on the placement. I know you said you wanted it on your leg, but like I said, that’s a big limb, so I’m not surewhereyou want it on your leg. I’ll print out a few stencils in different sizes.”
Raine stares at the drawing. I’m not sure she’s heard a word I’ve said. She just stares and stares.
“Raine?”
She snaps out of whatever thought she’s gotten stuck in and grins at me. “This iswaybetter than the Post-it.”
I laugh. “I certainly hope so.”
She drops her gaze to the iPad again. “When did you do this?”
“Oh... months ago. Probably right after you left.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“I based the design on some old travel journals I found online. I thought you might like that.” I move to stand beside her. “And the flowers are all native to Ireland. If you’d prefer other flowers—”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Keurig, of course I want Irish flowers.” She passes me the iPad. “It’s perfect. So, when do we get started?”
“Now, I suppose. Let me just print out these stencils so we can choose a size and location, and I’ll get my station set up.”
“Perfect,” she says.
Raine wanders the studio again while I get everything set up. She pauses in front of where I have my flash taped to the wall and sticks the Post-it beside one of the designs, but it flutters to the ground a few seconds later.
