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“Dammit, Zane, no, I won’t.” I grit my teeth. “I didn’t know I was gonna meet her, all right? Meet someone like her. That she’d be different. For me.”
He stills in the process of preparing the ink. “Different.”
I eye him warily. “You also gonna tell me what a bad idea this is? Because, honestly, I’m all out of fucks.”
He looks startled, then he scowls. “She’s—”
“Okay, back off.” I lurch to my feet and turn to go. “Maybe she’s not as broken as you think. Maybe she’s just cracked and only needs a bit of glue to put her straight.”
Silence spreads.
Then Zane chuckles. “I like what you just said, fucker.”
I chance a glance over my shoulder. Asshole is grinning from ear to ear.
“You do?”
“Yeah. So what happened? She said she’s not interested?”
I rub my chest, where it hurts. “Something like that.”
“So fight for her.”
The fuck.
“This isn’t a fantasy movie, Z-man. I don’t have superpowers or anything.” Yeah, I’m off balance and defensive as fuck. So what.
“Shut up, man. Who needs superpo
wers?” Zane’s dark eyes narrow to the barest of slits. “Take her out, buy her a gift, show her she is the one. Convince her. You’re a charming motherfucker. You can do it.”
I blink. “You’re okay with it?”
“Fucker…” He sighs, turns back to his tattoo gun. “I used to be a manwhore, worse than you. Until I met Dakota, and then I changed, because she was it for me. If Amber does that for you, who am I to stop you from being happy?”
Happy. That word again.
I can try. Nothing to lose. “I’m not a quitter.” I wouldn’t be alive if I was.
“Never thought you were.”
“So I should… what, date her?”
“That sounds about right.”
I open my mouth, close it.
“And now we’ve solved the mysteries of love, let’s get to work,” Zane says. “Show me your drawings, and put on those gloves. Your next customer will be here any minute.”
Well, hell.
***
Zane pushes me to do another part of a tattoo on his customer’s back, and this time my hand is steadier and I’m more confident in my abilities.
But then he tells me he expects me to practice longer and finish his apprenticeship. He wants me to stop at least one of my other part time jobs to spend more time on drawing and practicing.
He’s right. I should. This is what I want to be—a tattoo artist. I love creating the pictures, inking them into the skin in indelible designs. Marking people like I marked myself.
