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“The perspective and structure are all formatted correctly. But that’s not how smoke works.”
His analytical review of my piece makes me laugh, but Holly shoves her brother’s shoulder, scowling at him.
“Of course not, you dummy. Ben knows that! It’s a heart because we love each other.”
“Yeah. I got that. I still can’t believe you willingly had a needle touch you.”
We talked about that exact concern back when Holly brought up the idea of purchasing a shop together. She had a fantastic business plan laid out that addressed all the logistics; she’d even talked to two other artists about joining the team. But none of that addressed how a girl who was terrified of needles would be able to work around them all day.
When I brought it up, she explained that her mind didn’t see medical needles and tattoo needles in the same way. Holly even picked up my tattoo gun, easily holding it in her palm, to demonstrate the lack of a panicked reaction in her body. Once I was sure of how calm and at ease she was, I stopped doubting. After two years as an apprentice and two more working in other people’s shops, I was ready to create my own space with Holly.
Combining the rest of Grandpa Ben’s money with a small business loan, we bought this place. Holly adores the red brick walls, and I’m a fan of the giant storefront window that lets in plenty of natural light. Pops was a huge help with refurbishing the place. Two months in, and business has been steady.
Over the years, I’ve accumulated some regulars—fans of my work who don’t care which studio I’m in. Holly’s marketing skills bring in new customers daily. Jamie and Ridley, the other two artists who joined our studio, have styles all their own, making sure we can serve a variety of clientele.
Some days get hectic and unstructured, but Holly just gives the reins a tug, and everything falls back into place. My girl is amazing, the way she makes sure everything runs how it should. Her mastery of the business side of this situation means I can concentrate on the customers and making their dreams a reality.
I love it.
I love her.
I finished up with my last appointment of the day a few minutes ago, giving them their tattoo care kit before letting them go. Ridley took the last walk-in, and the shop is set to close soon. As I set my station to rights, I observe Holly and her brother laughing together. He’s relaying some story as she adjusts a framed picture that has tilted off-balance.
The painting depicts a gorgeous forest scene. A Benjamin Gerhard the Second original. In fact, the shop houses a large amount of my grandfather’s art. Not all of it. Some we sold, donating the proceeds to a charity that supports cancer research. Holly’s idea. But many we haven’t put price tags on because I want a reminder of him when I walk into this shop. I wouldn’t have any of the things I love today if it wasn’t for him.
He taught me a love of art, which I’ve found a way to make a career of. And, in my grief over his death, I injured myself, which at first seemed like a cruel twist of fate but ended with me finding the love of my life.
I owe him everything.
Holly flips the front sign to inform everyone that we’re closed for the night. Then, she reaches for her purse under the front desk and walks over to me. I grab my water bottle and have my hand outstretched before she even asks. The daily pill container gives a little pop as she pushes the Thursday lid open and dumps out the colorful tablets into my palm.
I can handle my medications on my own, but Holly is calmer when she’s sure beyond a doubt that I’ve taken them. Gives her a sense of control.
After the transplant, we still had to deal with the waiting to see if my body would reject the donation. Luckily, nothing went wrong. Her little kidney is still chugging away nicely in my abdomen. Maybe it’s weird, seeing as how I’ve had it for years now, but I still think of the kidney as Holly’s. I always have a piece of her with me.
“Marcus wants to take us out to eat to celebrate my bravery.” She puffs out her chest in an overly exaggerated display, making me chuckle.
“By all means, let’s take advantage of your brother’s generosity.”
“Nice to know my family appreciates me,” Marcus calls out before stepping through the front door.
“He’s gonna meet us there.” Holly smiles after her brother.
After she gave me her kidney, I worried that Holly might come to resent giving up the chance to help her brother find one. I should’ve known better. Just because she couldn’t offer her organ up in exchange didn’t mean she would stop looking. In fact, using some creative methods, Holly was able to locate a donor for her brother not too long after our surgery.
That anonymous donation saved Marcus’s life and relieved Holly and me of our guilt.
Thank the universe for generous people.
I check on Ridley to see that she’s finishing an eagle in the classic American style—thick black lines, bright and vivid colors.
“Nice work. Holly and I are headed out. You good to close up?”
“No problem. See you tomorrow.”
Holly shuts down the front desk’s computer, and we’re set to go. Before stepping outside, I twine my fingers through hers, making sure to take her right hand, so I don’t jostle her tattoo.
The night air is cool, and I’m glad I wore my jacket. Holly shivers, so I let go of her hand to wrap my arm around her shoulders. With her gripping my waist, she tugs me to a stop and turns us, so we’re facing the front window of our shop.
