My head shot up. “What?”
“I want that as a full back piece.”
That was the exact location I’d imagined it going, which was extreme for a newbie. “But you don’t have any other ink.”
“We already talked about that,” she said warily.
I remained dumbfounded. Something serious had to have happened for her to want a piece so massive and dark embedded in her skin. “Most people start with something small and work up to a piece like this. You don’t even have a tiny ladybug tattooed on your toe and you expect me to ink your entire back?”
“I don’t expect you to do anything. What I want is for you to put that design on my back. I have no desire to start with something smaller. If you won’t do it, then I’ll ask Chris or Jamie. Either that or you can refer me to someone else.” She inspected her nails, her tone detached, her posture stiff.
I wasn’t sure how to read her. I wasn’t convinced she would go to someone else with the design, but I couldn’t risk it.
“No way,” I practically growled at her. Like a dog. I was such an asshole.
“Why not? I’m sure Chris would be more than willing to work with me on this.” Tenley looked over to Chris, who was pretending to clean up his station while he eavesdropped. “Isn’t that right, Chris?”
“Sure, Tee. If Stryker pussies out, I’ll take on the project.”
“You haven’t even seen the design,” I said, venom lacing my words. “And it doesn’t matter anyway, because you’re not doing it.”
Chris smiled, like I’d proven his earlier assertion right. I didn’t care. I would break his fingers before he touched Tenley. If anyone ended up with the privilege of inking her, it would be me.
“Since when do you dictate what Chris can and can’t do? I was under the impression you boys had a partnership, not a dictatorship. If you refuse to work on my design, at least you could be courteous enough to pass it on to someone equally qualified,” Tenley argued. Quite eloquently.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it,” I replied, leaning in, still more agitated than I should have been.
“So you’ll work on me?” Tenley mirrored my movements, her face close to mine, calculatedly calm.
I shouldn’t agree to put a full back tattoo on a girl who had never been inked before and who made my dick ache constantly. But the thought of someone else doing it made me want to hit something. Particularly Chris.
“Fine,” I huffed.
“Great.” Tenley’s face broke into the most beautiful smile.
It spurred the irrational desire to agree to anything she asked. Instead I was my usual douche self. “It won’t be cheap,” I warned.
“That’s fine, money isn’t an issue.”
That was interesting. Tuition for Northwestern was astronomical. I heard enough kids complain about it, or brag, as the case might be. If money wasn’t an issue for a tattoo, I had to wonder why she kept a part-time job.
“It’ll probably take about twenty hours, give or take.” I was banking on it taking more time rather than less.
“Okay.”
“We’ll have to spread it out over multiple sessions.”
“I realize that.” She sounded insulted.
My dick understood before my brain did that I would be spending hours in a room alone with Tenley topless. While she was under my needle, I would have an uninterrupted expanse of time to get to know her beyond these brief, tense exchanges. If she got comfortable with me, I might be able to find out what had happened to make her want something so insanely dark. I couldn’t believe I was persuading her not to get the tattoo when it worked so well in my favor. I should drag it out if I had the opportunity.
I stopped trying to dissuade her, even though it felt like the pinnacle of unethical practice. She was already committed to it or she wouldn’t have been arguing for alternative artists and tolerating my jerkoff behavior.
“Give me a few days to work on translating the design into a tattoo, then you can tell me if you like what I’ve done.”
“Sure, when do you want me to come in next?”
“Early next week?”
“Monday? Oh wait, you don’t usually work Mondays, do you? What about Tuesday?”
I grinned. She knew I didn’t work on Monday. That meant she was aware of my schedule. Nice. We were both creepers. “I’ll come in Monday for you. How about you stop by after you finish your shift and we can hash out the finer details,” I replied.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
“I can wait until Tuesday.”
“I’m sure you can, but I’ll come in just for you.” She toyed with the frayed edge of the sketchbook. There I was, doing it again, saying things to make her uncomfortable.
“Okay.” She peeked up at me, her lips pursed like she was fighting a grin. As if I would renege if she happened to show some kind of enthusiasm over the fact I’d given in to her.