Page 6 of Love at First Ink

“Yes,Dad.” Tiny feigned annoyance. “You’re supposed to be a cool primo.”

“I am. A primo who makes sure you get your school shit done.”

Tiny didn’t hide her laugh this time. “It’s definitely shit. But I’m done. Had to take a test in science. Got an eighty-five, which is pretty good. Yeah?”

Despite her tough exterior, Cisco knew his cousin held a lot of insecurities, especially when it came to school—because of her dyslexia. It made her feel dumb and caused her to struggle academically. However, switching to online had been the best thing for her because she could go at her own pace, didn’t have the distraction of other classmates, and felt more confident in her work.

“That’s fucking awesome, Tiny!” He grinned and reached out to squeeze her shoulder. “Told you those flashcards would work.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She smiled, shoving him off her. “I guess you are right sometimes, Mr. Cornell University.”

“I keep trying to get people to realize that.” He winked.

“Well, keep trying and cry to your therapist about it.” Tiny paused. “How did your session go yesterday?”

Cisco never shied away from speaking about mental health. It was an important topic and shouldn’t have a stigma attached to it. To normalize therapy, he spoke openly about Alice and his sessions with her. “Always good. Still working too hard, per usual.”

Tiny scoffed. “Yeah, you being a workaholic is an understatement.”

It was undeniable. Cisco had poured every ounce of himself into his career. Since college, his singular ambition had been to open his own tattoo shop, and he had done just that. Not only had he built a successful business from the ground up, but he had expanded once and was already eyeing another expansion. For him, success wasn’t just about the money—it was about what he could do with it. Providing his family with stable jobs, sending financial help whenever a relative needed it—that was how he measured his achievements.

But that kind of dedication came at a cost. The relentless hustle weighed on him, leaving little room for anything beyond work. He wasn’t married, had no children, and burnout had become an all-too-familiar companion. That was why he visited Alice once a month—to recenter himself, to unload the burdens he carried in silence. She was his anchor, the one person who kept him grounded when there was no wife or long-term partner to do so. Sure, there were flings, casual entanglements that burned hot and fast, but they never lasted more than a few weeks. Commitment required time—something he had in short supply.

Pulling himself from his wayward thoughts, Cisco remembered to ask about the mysterious booking on his schedule. “Hey, so tell me about the appointment today. I thought my first one was at three.”

Tiny straightened up in her seat, tossing herbright blue hair over her shoulder. It was the only vibrant color on her because she dressed like a typical punk kid, in all black. He didn’t know how she could survive in an oversized hoodie when it was ninety degrees outside, but as a teen, he wore the same thing. Now, at his ripe age of thirty-three, he still wore black, but clothes that went better with the season. So, not fucking hoodies.

“Yeah, we got a call ten minutes before closing last night. A woman was making an appointment for her sister. She left her card on file, wanting to pay for her sister’s birthday present or something,” Tiny explained.

“Did she say what she wanted?”

“No, just that if she doesn’t show up to call her.”

Strange, but Cisco had stranger requests.

“Alright, then I’m going to get my station ready. Bring her back when she gets here and keep the music at a decent volume, okay?”

Tiny flipped him off. “Aye, aye, captain.” She then went back to her computer, pulling up a game she played to pass the time while the shop was slow.

As Cisco walked away, he heard his cousin yell, “Oh, I restocked all your shit! Next time, tell me when you are about to be out of gloves. I just put in an order for more, but it’ll take a while since you need the biggest damn size for your freakishly large hands.”

Cisco barked out a laugh but otherwise didn’t respond as he entered his station. It was a small room painted the same color as his office. He liked dark colors, especially green. Only a little of the wall showed because the rest was decorated with photos of family, friends, tattoos, musicians, and places he hoped to visit one day. Some would call his style cluttered and maximalist, but he called it perfection. It wasnice being able to look out and be surrounded by things you love.

Honestly there wasn’t much for Cisco to do. Tiny had already set up most of it. His equipment was cleaned and sitting out on the tray for him. The client’s chair also smelled of cleaning supplies and was covered in a disposable protective layer. Tiny even had his gel and gloves out waiting for him.

He was truly spoiled.

Usually, this would be the time he’d sit down and make any finishing touches to the art, but he had nothing to go off of. Normally he didn’t like going into an appointment with no idea about what his client wanted, but he had enough experience and tons of unclaimed art pieces that he was sure they’d find something for her.

In the meantime, Cisco grabbed his iPad to work on a few other sketches for some of his clients. He got lost in The Sinner’s Web album as he waited for his noon appointment.

CHAPTER 4

Marisol

She should leave. This was a stupid plan made during a moment of false bravado. She could hear it now.Marisol, what have you done to yourself?OrMarisol, no man will want you now.Her mother would shame her until Marisol started to believe she was an idiot and should have listened to her mother to begin with. Clearly, her mother, who had been married to her father for over thirty years, knew a little about relationships and what men wanted.

Not that she was living her life for a man. It was just that her mother thought she should. Archie was proof of this, and she was still dealing with the fallout of that mistake.

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