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“Your arm tattoos are beautiful,” Dante observes, when I move next to him to dip my needle in the black ink again. “Do they have any particular meaning?”
“The flowers do,” I tell him neutrally, focusing on the outline as I move the needle through his skin. “The snake is just because I drew it up and liked it, so I got Rico to tattoo it on me. Although I guess it does have some meaning—that tattoo is what got us talking, led to my apprenticeship with him.”
“How so?” Dante asks curiously, and I shrug.
“He liked my drawing, and I wanted to learn how to transfer my art to skin. He wanted a new apprentice. Right place, right time, I suppose. I was lucky.”
“And talented.” Dante turns his head slightly, looking at me in his periphery. “I’m not surprised he wanted to take you on.”
“Not so much talent as years of hard work. I’ve been drawing since I was a kid. This was just another step after a lot of practice and effort.”
“I can understand that,” Dante says thoughtfully, and I have to suppress a snort. Looking around this place, I can’t imagine that he’s ever had to work for anything in his life. Everything he has, he likely inherited from or was paid for by his daddy, including the penthouse I’m standing in. A penthouse that probably cost more than I’ll ever see in my entire lifetime.
He hasn’t actively done anything to make me resent him, but it’s hardnotto resent someone like that. Especially when I think of the pile of bills sitting on my kitchen counter, mocking me every morning when I go to make a cup of coffee.
“You have a light touch,” Dante observes, when the silence stretches on for too long. “More so than other artists who have worked on me.”
“Some tattoo artists think a tattoo being painful is a part of it. I think there’s no reason not to have a light hand and make it as pleasant as possible.” I glance at him as I dip the needle again. “I don’t think my clients have anything to prove.”
A smirk curls the corner of his mouth. “Not even me?”
“You’re not my client,” I tell him flatly as I press the needle into his skin again.
“For tonight, I am.” His face is turned away, but I can still hear that smirk in his voice.
“You’d have to be paying me to be my client. And like I said, Rico is still taking the fee for this.” I try to keep the bitterness out of my voice, but it’s hard. Not getting paid for tonight is going to set me even further behind. It’s not Dante’sfault, not exactly, but it’s difficult not to be irritated both with him for refusing to reschedule, and with Rico for insisting on getting paid for a client he didn’t work on.
“That doesn’t seem right.” Dante’s voice is mellow enough that I can’t pick up on how he really feels about it. “You’re doing the work.”
“He’s the boss.” I ink another smooth line across his olive-toned skin. “Not really something I can argue about.”
“And you’ve only ever worked for him? I guess so, if you apprenticed under him,” Dante says thoughtfully, answering his own question. “Ever thought about leaving?”
“It’s not that easy. Not when you work for someone as well-known and well-connected as he is. If I leave under the wrong circumstances, it could be scorched earth for me with any decent shop in LA.” I let out a sharp breath. “But we don’t need to talk about all this.”
“I’m not going to share what you tell me with Rico, if you’re worried about that.” Dante turns his head to look at me again, but I don’t look up from my work.
“None of this has anything to do with you.” I straighten, dipping my needle again. “It’s just not what I should be talking about with a client.”
“Admirable loyalty.” Dante shifts a little before I return to tattooing him.
“Do you need a break?” I change the subject, unwilling to say anything else about my job, or my relationship to my boss. “We can take one if you like, but I’ll warn you, the skin will start to tighten, and it’ll be more uncomfortable after.”
“It’s hardly hurt at all so far, so I can’t imagine it’ll be that bad. But I’m fine.”
There’s silence for a few moments, as I move on to the next bit of the section I chose to work on tonight. I started at the base, the way I usually do, but a part of me feels a little jealous that Rico will be the one to get to tattoo the flowers that I added on to the stencil. It’s not unfair, considering I’m inking his work right now, but it still makes me feel odd.
It’s surprisingly hard not to open up to Dante. He’s not as arrogant as I first thought—or at least, he isn’t coming off that way, like the stereotype of a mob boss that I expected. I hadn’t thought he would ask me questions about myself, and I don’t entirely know how I feel about it. It’s not really a subject I’m comfortable with.
Especially with a stranger like Dante.
I’m relieved when it’s time to cover the tattoo and pack up. I wipe away the remaining stencil, and take an aftercare sheet out of my bag.
“I’m sure you’re familiar with this,” I tell him, setting it on the bar counter. “But just so I’m doing my due diligence. Rico will be in touch with you to set up the next appointment when he feels better.” I hesitate as I start to pack up my things. “It was nice meeting you.”
“You as well.” Dante stands up, wincing slightly. I can feel his gaze on me as I reach for my phone to text Rico and let him know I’m finished. I’ve only just opened it when I feel Dante’s hand brush against mine as he slips the phone out of my hand.
“What the hell are you doing?” I look up at him, startled, as I try to grab it back. He moves out of my reach with a grin, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that seems entirely at odds with who I know him to be.
