Page 11 of Dark Reasons

“From who?”

He pushes the tattoo door open. The name is scribbled on the glass in a flowing cursive font: Hot Ink. I’ve only been inside one of these studios once before. The memory starts to wriggle up my throat, choking me. What stops it is the sight inside.

The walls and floor are stained black, a matte texture so nothing reflects and everything has a dullness. There are a few displays of sample art on the wall near the door, just above the lone cracked leather couch. Otherwise, the lack of color feels intentional. It’s almost like this shop doesn’t want to sell you anything.

It's nothing like the one I went to with Valoria.

In the center, against the back wall, is a desk just big enough to fit the lithe woman with hair as black as the walls. It’s long and thick and it covers her eyes as she stares down at whatever she’s looking at in her hands.

“Iris,” Jamison snaps.

She lifts her head enough to squint at him and me. “What?”

“You’re not supposed to be on your phone, do you want Tusk to lay into you again?”

“He doesn’t care what I do as long as I watch the camera. You’re the only one that gets pissed.” Her attention darts to me. “Who’s the girl?”

“Nobody. Don’t talk to her.”

“I’m Selena," I pipe up.

Iris stares at me, but a single withering look from Jamison and she remains quiet. He points at me then at the sofa. “Sit and wait.”

“Fine,” I sigh, sitting on the sofa. It crunches beneath me like a bag of chips. Jamison peers at me intently, like he’s trying to convince himself I won’t go anywhere. I make myself smile and he glares harder. “Relax, I won’t get any tattoos while you’re gone.”

Iris snorts into her hand, looking away with a smile.

He ruffles his hair, taps his foot, then heads into the back left corner. I didn’t notice the door there because the handle is the same shade as the wall paint. It melds with the shadows perfectly. When he opens it, I see a flash of light; it illuminates the hard edges of his face, his deep scowl. His unease.

He’s worrying over what he’s about to do.

Chapter Four

Jamison

People rarely smileat me.

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