Chapter 1
Bryn
Buzz.
Buzzzzzzzzz.
Buzzzzz.
My heart flittered and fluttered as Larry started to suck red ink into his gun.
I scanned the tray of colors that my artist had laid out as I huffed, “Let’s get this fucking party started.” I glanced down again at the fine lines of the stencil that was the road map for my next tattoo, excited to see it finally come to life.Over a year in the making and it is finally here.
There was something so seductive about the aroma, sounds, and overall life force of tattoo shops. I took a few slow, deep breaths and glanced around the brightly lit room. All the paintings, half-drawn tattoos, and neo-traditional artwork set the stage for my mood to shift and life to calm a bit. I was in my element, ready for the next adventure to begin. Larry’s worn-out leather rolling chair complained when he huffed down into it with a thump. He scooted a little closer to where I lay relaxed on his table, waiting for my latest masterpiece to be driven deep into my skin.
Thesnapof my tattooist re-securing the black latex around his wrists broke into my zen, making my eyes connect with his weathered gray-blue oceans. “Ready Bryn?”
“Heck yeah! Let’s do this.” Locking my eyes on the ash white ceiling, I popped my headphones in to let the screaming tones and thumping bass of I Prevail blast me into oblivion.
As the needle dug in, I felt my muscles tense and my body flush. The first line was always the hardest, but I was addicted.I sucked in sharply through gritted teeth and held my breath for a few seconds. The initial shock and pain rolled over me and then I was good to go like usual.
Deep.
Slow.
Breaths.
Deep.
Slow.
Holy hell, it stings.
The needle dragged over my skin quickly, sending shivers throughout my entire body.
After about fifteen minutes of silence, Larry wiped the beginning of my new tattoo and smirked. “So, how stoked are you to no longer be a probi?”
I took my right earpiece out and glanced down at my forearm where the Maltese cross was starting to form. “Stoked doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of how fucking elated I am! It’s been a long freaking year, to say the least.”
“I remember when I finally was no longer a damn apprentice. No better feeling in the world!” Larry snickered as he tripped down memory lane.
We were ready for this to be at least a three-hour session; I was prepared to zone out, to meditate through the annoying pain and irksome scratching that was taking siege of my right arm. It had been a long, hard probation period, and it was finally over. Probation for my firehouse had been grueling and incredibly stressful, but completely worth every minute. Hard work for sure had paid off in the long run, and I was about to really start reaping the rewards.
“Wow, that’s badass.” I heard a burly unfamiliar voice scarcely come through under the death metal remix of “Blank Space” that was blasting through my headphones.
My eyes flew open. I was about to flip my shit. I hated when people talked to Larry while I was getting inked. It broke into my zone of blocking out the pain, and I didn’t care for that in the slightest. Right as I was about to start ripping the rude douche canoe a new asshole, I locked eyes with one of the most breathtaking men I had ever seen in my damn life. I mean, he was drop-dead gorgeous, and that was saying something since I was surrounded by muscly firefighters day in and day out.
My rage quickly went out the window, melting into swooning while I picked my slack jaw up off the floor and prayed I wasn’t drooling too much.
Larry glanced up at the striking stranger after moving the needle away from my tender skin. “Thanks dude. Looking to get inked?”
He was tall with a short, dark beard, sleeves of tattoos, short light brown hair perfectly styled in a cute comb-over, kind ice-blue eyes, and a killer smirk that was making me want to ride his face right there on the damn table I was lying on.
“Seriously thinking about it. I’m pretty new to town, and this shop has some killer reviews online. Figured I’d stop in and take a look before making any decisions.”
“Cool man. Feel free to look around and talk to some of my guys if you’d like. I’m Larry, and I own the place. If you need anything, have any questions, just holler.”
“Thanks, I’m Mitch.” They bumped elbows, which made me laugh a little. Larry took being sanitary ridiculously seriously, which was one of the things I really respected about him as a tattoo artist.