Page 148 of Outcast
“Really?” Angel brightened. “What kind of art?”
“Oh, just sketching and painting mostly,” Emory said. “I really love your style.” He gestured up to the wall. “That’s more sophisticated than what I could do.”
Most of Angel’s work, framed on the walls around her workstation, was black-and-gray, but the designs used intricate shading and light for a beautiful effect.
“Don’t let Emory sell himself short,” I said. “I saw some tattoo designs he did for fun. He’s got a vibe kinda like your dragon inker over there.”
“Oh, Fox?” She nodded. “He does more of a neotraditional design, but he’ssogood at it.”
I sat down in the chair, and Angel slid out a table for me to rest my arm on, then took a seat on a rolling stool and pulled on latex gloves.
Axel had grabbed a book of tat designs from the lobby and was flipping through it. “I am feeling the need to book another session. Just being here has my skin all itchy.”
Angel smirked. “Careful there, Ax. Ink is addictive.”
He snorted. “And you’re my dealer of choice.”
“It’s a win-win, then.”
Holden crossed his arms and leaned against the partial wall between Angel’s station and the next. Bailey wandered the shop.
Emory stood close to Axel, looking at the book of designs. “These are so cool. This must be a dream job, huh?”
“It really is.” She wiped my inner wrist with rubbing alcohol. “Not something I ever planned to do, but I love it.”
“Weren’t you going into teaching?” Holden asked.
“Yep. I worked at the high school a few years, but they cut art classes. Budget shit, you know? I didn’t know what the hell to do, but then I got a tattoo, and I caught the bug.”
She glanced over at Emory, who was raptly studying the book of tattoo designs.
“I recognize the signs. You’re going to be back.”
Emory looked startled. “What?”
“Yep. Mark my words. Either for a tattoo or to learn more about how to ink them. You’ve got that look in your eye.”
I smirked. “How do you think I got him to look twice at me?” I said, gesturing to the ink on my arms.
“Shut up,” Emory said with a laugh. “I like your ink, but you’d be hot without it.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Lesshot, maybe,” he admitted, and everyone laughed.
Angel transferred a stencil of the design to my skin using thermal paper and a liquid solution. Then she broke out the tattoo gun.
“This is going to be pretty simple, so it won’t take long.” The gun buzzed to life, and Emory came over for a closer look.
She placed the gun to my skin, and the familiar stinging of the needle danced along my wrist. It was like hundreds of little pinpricks, but nothing I hadn’t experienced many times before.
“Sorry if this is a waste of your talent,” I said as the simple infinity symbol took shape. “You could probably do this in your sleep.”
“It’s never a waste,” she said with a smile. “I think what you guys are doing is so cool. Tattooing can be fun, and it can be rebellious, but I like it most when it symbolizes something important, like this does.”
I glanced up at my brothers, who’d all moved a little closer to watch the magic. For so long, I’d thought I’d lost them forever. For so long, I’d regretted my choices.
But all my choices had brought me here—to this moment with them. I appreciated it so much more because it hadn’t come easily.
