Page 38 of Tony

“Vann has a client tonight. If you want this done before you leave, it’s gotta be Belinda. She’s my up-and-coming protégée. Trust me, she will amaze you.”

I smile sheepishly at Trev. Vic is lying to him about all those things. Vann does have a client tonight, but that appointment isn’t for a couple hours, at least. And the part about me being his protégée—I think I would know about that, if it were the case. Also, I’m fairly certain he doesn’t think I’m about to amaze anyone. Vic thinks I have potential. But the last thing a person about to let you carve up their skin with ink wants to hear is that their artist has potential.

Vic pulls a stool out from under the counter and slides it over to my side of Trev’s prone body in the chair. I glove up, listen as Vic explains the design to me. I’m doing some pretty typical filler. Flames and smoke and possibly—Vic says we’ll see how things go—some hand lettering.

Then we settle in. Trev is a talker. He chats almost non-stop to Vic. I didn’t check him in—I was getting food when he arrived. But I’ve seen his name on the schedule several times since I started working here. He’s a regular, of sorts. And he and Vic seem to go back a long way.

I only half-listen to their conversation about parties, and girls, and motorcycles—hey, at least the elder Sick Boy is on theme, right? Instead, I concentrate on doing the best job I can on the filler flames. Vic’s artistic style borders on photorealistic. So I take my time trying to make my flames match Vic’s already present design.

It would be nice to be able to do my own style and my own designs, but this is not my client. And Vic’s work on Trev’s back is spectacular. The last thing I want to be known for is fucking it up with filler.

I’m facing the door—which is open—so it’s hard not to notice Vann walking by every few minutes so he can look at me.

I’m not interested. I’m one hundred percent not going to talk to Vann ever again.

Not because he fucked Soshee Ameci in his studio and I caught them, either. That’s so not why. It’s because I’m totally embarrassed about how I reacted. Or… really… overreacted.

He probably thinks I’m jealous.

He probably thinks, Ah ha! She does like me. And that little hysterical display after she caught me fucking another girl is proof!

But it’s not. I’m not jealous. I’m actually disgusted. In fact, Vann Vaughn is even less attractive to me right now than he was this morning when I considered him hot.

I don’t think he’s hot. Nope. His grin isn’t charming. It’s… ah… sleazy. Yeah. He’s sleazy. Fucking random girls he doesn’t even like in his studio with all kinds of people around.

What’s wrong with him?

I get the irony. I’m a hypocrite. I just fucked Tony outside in the alley. But in my defense, there was almost a zero possibility of us being seen. And it was only to get Tony off my back and make him leave town.

Fucking Tony tonight was a joke, of sorts. Maybe even a necessary evil.

That’s it.

Vann walks by. Again. And he looks right at me. Again. I pretend not to see him from behind my safety glasses. Anyway, it’s a quick pass by. He’s heading to the front to check people in.

A few minutes later I hear him laughing. Even over the music, and conversation between Vic and Trev, not to mention the giggling girls in the waiting room, I can hear that laugh.

OK. I will admit that Vann has a nice laugh. It’s catchy. And easy. And light. Not a too-loud haha, but not a huffy chuckle either. It’s deep and comes from his chest. It makes you want to smile.

“Follow me,” I hear him say. “I’m in the back.”

He walks by the room, and then a blonde girl—young, beautiful, sexy—hell, let’s just call her look “porn-star cheerleader meets cliché stripper princess”—follows him. But she practically slides to a stop and backtracks.

I shoot her a weird look, momentarily pausing my work.

“Vicious Vaughn. I thought you were off tonight?” Slutty Princess leans against the doorjamb and grins at my boss.

Vic stops working too, and then pulls his facemask down and swivels in his chair. “Cherry! What’s up?”

Cherry? Her name is Cherry? Gag.

“I would give you a hug, but—” He holds up his gloved hands.

“I’ll take a raincheck,” Cherry coos. “But I thought I was booked with Vann because you were off tonight.”

“He came in for me,” Trev mumbles.

“Hmm,” Cherry hums.