Easy took the clipboard and handed it to Nell. “That’s for her, not me. She’s getting her first ink today. I’m just here to supply the cinnamon rolls.” He opened the box and set it on a side table in the sitting area.
“You freaks better save at least one of those for me,” said the artist with a grin.
“Don’t worry, Justin, I brought a dozen this time,” Easy told him.
A tall woman with rainbow hair and dragon tattoos wrapped around both arms strode into the workroom from a door at the back. “I smell cinnamon rolls, don’t I?” She laughed, a deep, warm laugh. She crossed the workspace, stepped over the velvet rope, and drew Easy into an enthusiastic hug. “It’s good to see you, man.”
“Always feels like home, coming here,” Easy said in return, so softly that Nell almost didn’t catch it, though she was only a few feet away. Then he turned and waved her over. “Nell, this is Ghostflower.”
Nell stepped up and shook Ghostflower’s hand, feeling as though she were meeting a master at a national event, someone who might be judging her rank test or competition ring. “Nice to meet you.” She just barely managed to avoid calling the tattoo artist ma’am.
“Honored to be the one doing your first ink,” Ghostflower said. She had a firm handshake and genuine interest in her dark eyes. “Lemme just grab a cinnamon roll and we can talk about what you want, ’kay? You want one?”
“I got a savory roll instead,” Nell explained, holding up her paper bag. “I know Eamonn loves his sweets in the morning, but some days I just can’t.”
That made Ghostflower laugh. “Sit and eat! I’ll be right there.”
Nell unwrapped her roll and bit into it. So good! The filling had just a tiny hint of sweetness from the apples and caramelized onions, mixed with the crunch of pecans and the creamy goodness of melted pepper jack.
Ghostflower sat down beside her with a sketch pad. “Now, tell me what sort of tattoo you’re thinking of.”
“On my left shoulder blade,” Nell said. “I’ve thought about this for years. Do you know what I mean by lettering that’s both strong and fluid?”
“Absolutely. And what are we spelling out?”
Nell shot a glance at Eamonn, who was at the window looking down into the street as he sipped his coffee. She held out a hand for Ghostflower’s pencil and printed one word lightly at the top of the page. “It’s the most important thing about me,” she said. Integrity.
Getting a tattoo didn’t hurt, exactly. It was more of a scratchy, pinch-poke feeling. There were moments of ouch — when the tattoo machine’s needles hit nerves in the skin, maybe, like tiny pressure points here and there — but mostly it was tolerable. She imagined the lettering taking shape on her shoulder blade. Integrity. Ghostflower had drawn the word in her sketchbook, in broad capital letters with swirling serifs, both strong and flowing, just as Nell had described. After they’d talked some more, the artist had added a sun rising behind and through the letters, because the sun rises every day, no matter what, and is always there above the clouds. Nell couldn’t directly see the back of her own shoulder, but Ghostflower had made a stencil from the sketch and placed it according to Nell’s request, then showed her in a pair of mirrors. This is me. This is right. With every prick of the tattoo machine, the beautiful artwork was becoming her own ink, part of her skin.
Losing the Wildforest job had taken nothing from her but temporary security. A rest from her sport as well as the workforce grind — a true vacation — was maybe something she’d needed for a while. As the scratching discomfort went on and on, Nell found a place inside herself where it didn’t matter so much that she’d lost control of her life. Maybe it’s a sign. Time for the next step, whatever it is. It will be okay.
And that felt good.
It came almost as a surprise when the needles stopped and the artist’s gentle hands wiped the area with something cool. “All done,” Ghostflower said. “Want to take a look before I put the Dermalize on?” Out came the mirrors again. The finished work was perfect, beautiful, even with the slightly angry skin around it.
Eamonn wandered over to take a look.
He stood just behind her, where she couldn’t see him unless she twisted around, and neither the sore muscles in her lower back nor the brand-new tattoo on her shoulder blade wanted her to do that.
What did he think of it? Had he paid attention to the design before this? Nell couldn’t be sure. It wasn’t as though Ghostflower had shown him the sketchbook, or even drawn his attention to the transfer when she applied it.
This isn’t about you, she wanted to tell him. But then again, maybe it was. She’d been imagining variations of this tattoo for several years, and yet she’d put off finding an artist and getting it done — too busy, no time to heal, maybe afraid to commit all the way to something so permanent. So now, because he suggested it and had a tattoo artist friend? Or now, because she deep down needed him to know how important integrity was to her, so much that she’d make it part of her skin to prove the point?
“Fuck me, Nell, that ink looks good on you,” he said softly, and she wished she could see the expression on his face. “Gorgeous work as always, Ghostflower.”
Ghostflower’s warm chuckle sounded pleased. “You warm my heart, Peasy. Want anything yourself, while you’re here? Just putting the Dermalize on, Nell, then you’re done.” Her capable hands touched the newly tattooed area with care, covering it with something that felt adhesive. Out of the corner of her eye, Nell could see that it was some kind of translucent film. Peasy? Oh… Easy-peasy. Too funny. Who would
