Page 14 of Grit
“Why do you care, Ox?”
“Dude. She’s my sister.”
“And I’m your customer. Which reminds me, can we start on my left shoulder next week?”
“You have the drawing ready?”
“My mom already sketched it out, but I’m sure you’ll need to modify it.”
“No problem. She did an amazing job on that chrysanthemum. I didn’t have to do much.”
Some mothers, especially Japanese ones, didn’t like tattooing. Cary’s mom was enough of a rebel to be delighted that her husband and son both liked the practice, even if it was taboo in her family.
Actually, she might have liked it more because of that.
“Let me know.” He’d finished both his shoulders and wanted to move on to the water motif he’d planned for the middle of his back. It would be a months-long process between his schedule and Ox’s, but the end result was something he’d been dreaming about for years.
He’d told his mother what he wanted, and she’d drawn it out for him on a large piece of sketch paper, using the traditional style he loved.
Cary slowed down as he passed by the living room window, raising a hand to wave at Melissa where she looked out into the darkness.
She waved back, her hand lingering in the air a little longer than he’d expected.
Then she snatched it away like her fingers had been burned and spun around to walk back to the kitchen.
Fire and water. Whoever said that tattoos were a picture of your life wasn’t wrong.
Chapter Three
The next morningat the intersection of 7th Avenue and Main in downtown Metlin, Abby shot out of the truck as soon as Melissa parked it.
“Don’t leave the market!” Melissa yelled at the disappearing ten-year-old.
“Okay!”
She tried her best not to be overprotective. Abby was friends with at least three other kids whose parents had booths on Saturday morning. She had an uncle and almost-aunt with a shop on Main, along with other known adults up and down the street.
Melissa still worried.
It was hard not to feel like her little girl was slipping away. Abby had a social calendar that had nothing to do with playdates anymore. She had school friends and riding friends. She had book club friends and 4-H friends. Everyone knew Abby and everyone watched out for her.
Which made it feel silly for Melissa to worry, even though she did.
“She’ll be fine.”
Cary’s deep voice made her turn. “I know.”
He stood by his grey truck, looking off into the distance, his dark brown eyes piercing. “Doesn’t make you worry any less.”
“No.”
He lowered the tailgate on his truck and pulled out the pop-up shade cover he’d set up for his booth. “You know, when I think about what all I did at that age—”
“Everything.” Melissa tore her eyes away from following Abby and reached for her own shade cover, a bright yellow to catch the attention of the crowds. “Our parents let us do everything.”
“As long as we were home by dinner.”
“Same rule at my house.”
