*TRIGGER WARNING: In this chapter there is references to violence and suicide*
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*BUZZZZZZZZZ*
The buzz of the machine in my hand is soothing. The tantric rhythm of pushing ink into flesh eases my anxiety. The piercing of the inked dipped needles into my thigh releases the endorphins I need today. A fresh tattoo is the best form of stress relief, especially when done by your own hand. I had no clients today, so I decided to practice on myself.
I set my machine down on the tray, and wipe the excess ink from my thigh. The blues, purples, and pinks are coming together to form a galaxy style version of Matt Smith's face. The placement is just above the eight inch tall TARDIS I got done when I first moved to California. Satisfied with the progress I made on it today, I smear a glob of Redemption across the face, and cover it up with a black dressing.
As I clean up my station, I hear my phone ping. My gut tells me it's probably Agmos asking if we are still on for tonight. I had told him on New Year's Day that I needed a little more time before I was willing to see him, and he told me to take all the time I needed. That was nearly a month ago.
I spent the past four weeks writing notes about questions I wanted to ask. Information Agmos and Ink needed to share with me. Whys. Hows. Whats. Wheres. Everything I could think of to ask. Before I realized it, January was gone, and February has graced me with her presence.
I finish cleaning up, letting the message sit in my phone. As I methodically wipe down my equipment, I feel my anxiety already creeping back in. Fuck.
Tossing my gloves and disposable equipment in the trash can, I grab my phone and pull up the text.
Agmos: "still on for tonight?"
Me: "yep"
His reply comes almost instantly.
Agmos: "anything you need Ink and I to bring?"
Me: "extra large double chz pizza from Ramones"
Agmos: "stuffed crust?"
Me: "perfect"
I lock my phone and shove it into my pocket, irritated with myself for smiling about Agmos knowing I want the damn crust stuffed. I grab my bag and keys from next to my computer, heading into the lobby. Kaylee is sitting at the front desk, drawing on the new tablet I got her for Christmas. Her previous one died on her a week before Christmas, so I pulled a sneaky and scooped her up the newest model.
"I'm heading home, Kay." She looks up at me as I drop the keys on the counter. "Since you've got the keys, I'ma need you to open tomorrow. Still good with that, yeah?"
"Of course, darlin'!" Her face brightens, with a smile a freaking mile wide. "You have fun tonight. Oh, and try not to kill Agmos. Maybe just a broken nose, but I'm not in a body burying mood tonight." She gives me a wink, and waves me off as she goes back to her art project.
Rolling my eyes at her, I smile and push open the door to leave.
TWO HOURS LATER
Agmos, Ink, and I are sitting around my table. The pizza in the center is nearly gone. Papers covered in my handwriting litter the remaining space not occupied by the pizza box. For the past twenty minutes since they arrived, I've shoveled pizza into my mouth nonstop to avoid talking. Finished, I pick up my plate and carry it to the sink, dropping it in with a clang. I return to the table and clear away the pizza box, and the other two plates.
YOU ARE READING
Inked Creations
FantasyHawthorn is a tattoo artist who owns and runs Alpha Ink, the only tattoo parlor in the area that is owned, run, and staffed by only women. Successful, and finally in a good place in her life, her world gets turned upside down by a chance meeting. Wh...