Page 117 of Midnight Ink

“What?” She glares at us.

“Phone. We talked about this.”

“Ugh! Fine.” She picks up the phone, shooting us both a scowl. “Infinity Ink, how can I tickle your titties today?”

“Oh my god, we need to fire her,” Jules murmurs.

“You going to do it?”

“Hell no, confrontation is your department.” He grins at me. “Thanks for the tattoo.” He kisses me quick. “I have one to set up for.” I watch Anna flip open the planner. We’ve gotten a lot closer lately. She’s still . . . well, Anna, but I don’t know. It’s like a lot of negative energy has left this place.

“Ian,” Anna calls. “When will Miles be in today?”

“I don’t even think Miles knows when Miles will be in today.” My newest artist doesn’t run on earthling time. As he says, he’s an amazing artist who specializes in new school. Bright and bold colors. He’s great. He’s just. . . well, he’s Miles. “Just get their number and he can call them back.”

I walk over to Anna’s desk, grabbing the schedule for the day and making a mental note of Julian’s appointments.

Our bell rings again, and a flash of bright red hair catches my attention. “Hey,” I say to Phe as she walks by. She rests her tattooed arms on the counter, looking over it. Phoenix started nearly three months ago. She’s from Arizona but moved up here earlier this year to take care of her sick mother. Her orange and red ombre wavy bob covers the appointment book as she curls over the counter to look. “I think I have two today. One’s a big piece.” She specializes in realism, and her tattoos are some of the most realistically beautiful tattoos I’ve ever seen.

“Babe, you know you have an appointment at eleven and another at three, right?”

Julian nods, setting up his station. “Got ’em right here.” He points to the sticky notes on his mirror. I only have one piece later this afternoon, but I have some things I have to get done beforehand. “Where’s Nico? He’s got a couple of appointments soon,” I ask Phe.

“Why are you asking me?” She shrugs. “I’m not his keeper.”

“No, but he is your shadow.” I’m not sure what’s going on there. I don’t think it’s romantic, but I can often find Nico hanging out at Phe’s station in between clients. Nico is . . . hard to read. He doesn’t talk much, opting to keep to himself and that’s fine with me. He doesn’t seem to talk much when he’s sitting with Phoenix either. Clients seem to love him, though, and he’s booked for months.

“Just need Miles to—” Our doors swing open, the bell rocking back and forth as Miles bursts through. “Never mind.”

“Greetings, earthly mortals.” He rips off his pink headphones with the cat ears and rests them around his neck. He shrugs off his coat revealing the same worn baby-blue zipped hoodie with the bunny ears he wears every day.

“Morning, Miles.” Julian smirks as he finishes prepping his station. “What’s going on today, man?” Julian has taken to Miles. I mean, most of us have. He’s hard not to love. He’s just . . . quirky.

“Well, there was a rare solar eclipse set for tonight, but it’s only going to be visible over Antarctica. Penguins are so lucky. Hey, where’s my machine?”

“I uh, meant how are you, but good to know. And I’m not sure.”

“I have it,” Phoenix calls. “Sorry, I just wanted to write down what model it was. I love it.” Miles walks over and hesitates. “I didn’t use it, Miles. Just wrote down the serial number.” She blinks at him. Her shoulders sag with her sigh, and she reaches into a drawer and wipes it down with an alcohol wipe. “I wash my hands, just so you know.”

He bows to her, taking the machine with his gloved hands. “Thank you, my lady. Hey, where’s Nico?” he asks her.

“Why does everyone think I’m his keeper?”

“He likes you best.” Miles shrugs.

“See,” I say to her.

“What do you have today?” Julian asks him.

“I’m starting a back piece soon. I can’t wait.” Miles taps his foot to . . . I have no idea. There’s no music playing yet. I still have to turn on our speaker. “I hope to get the outline done today. He loved the design when I sent it. It’s a sick and twisted white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland holding a stopwatch. The thing looks rabid. Ha! Rabid. Rabbit. I’m funny.”

“For someone who hates skin-to-skin contact, it’s a miracle you even tattoo.” Julian shakes his head.

“It’s not that—” Miles frowns. “It’s not that, you know. Everything here . . .” He waves a hand toward his station. “Is sterile. Just the way it should be. And I wear gloves. No touching human skin suits required.”

Oh, Miles. “Are there germs in space?” Phe asks.

“Why? Why get him going?” I shake my head.