Page 3 of Patchwork
Thevoicesofthehundreds of people packed into the convention center ring in my ears, along with the rock music playing from nearly every booth and the buzz of dozens of tattoo machines. I roll my neck to work out the kinks and stretch my fingers. I’ve already done more tattoos today than I usually do in a week, and it’s barely past noon.
“Don’t forget to drink some water in between sessions,” Piston says over the buzz of his own machine.
“Yes, Dad.” I chuckle and roll my eyes, even though I’m obediently reaching for a water bottle out of the cooler we brought along for the day.
“I thought I was Daddy,” Arrow says, putting a bandage over the tattoo he just finished.
“You’re Daddy,” Jag agrees. “Piston isDad. Two very different things.”
“Why do I feel like I’m being insulted right now?” Piston deadpans.
“Because pretty much everything that comes out of Jag’s mouth sounds like an insult?” Tex snags a water bottle of his own.
I scan the crowd, enjoying having a minute to breathe. We all opted not to take appointments today and to keep it walk-in only for this convention, and we’ve been pretty much slammed doing flash art for virgins and tattoo veterans alike since the minute the doors opened hours ago. I’m definitely not complaining. It’s fucking kick-ass to see so many ink enthusiasts in one place like this. I eye a couple of impressive tattoo sleeves while I sip my water, and then my gaze lands on a guy a couple of booths down.
There are plenty of hot dudes here, so I’m not sure what exactly catches my attention about this one in particular, but whether he knows it or not, I’m caught in his web. He’s tall and slender, dressed in tight-fitting black pants with a pair of rainbow suspenders hanging down rather than looped up over his shoulders. The suspenders match the rainbow shoelaces in his black Converse. There’s a silver hoop piercing through the left side of his full, biteable bottom lip, and a touch of smudged eyeliner under both eyes, more rockstar than femme. He’s definitely too young for my forty-year-old ass to be drooling over, but I can’t seem to get myself to look away. He shakes his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes and glances up, meeting my gaze.
My heart skips a beat, and heat rises in my cheeks, but I still can’t fucking make myself look anywhere else. I’m expecting a glare for my creepy staring, or at least for him to turn and walk far, far away, but instead, the corners of his lips immediately curl up into a smile. He sets down the studded leather choker he was just looking at and starts towards the Ink Slingers booth.
“Oh shit, is that…” Tex starts to ask. I have no clue what the rest of that sentence was going to be, because he snaps his mouth shut as soon as the hot rainbow rocker reaches our booth.
“Hey.” His voice is deep and husky, and the smile is still lingering on his lips as he drags his eyes over me shamelessly.
My body heats and our eyes lock, and for a few seconds it feels like the rest of the noisy, chaotic convention center fades away.
“Are you taking walk-ins?” he asks.
“Walk-ins?” I ask in a daze. His smile twitches and amusement dances in his eyes, like he has guys getting stupid over him all the time. I give my head a quick shake to clear my thoughts and pull myself together. “For a tattoo? Yeah, I’ve got time. What did you have in mind?”
“I’ve been thinking about a spiderweb on my shoulder. This is my first tattoo though, so I’ve been trying to work up the courage for a while. Could you do that?” He rolls up his sleeve to show me the intended canvas.
I don’t have any spiderwebs on my flash board, but I grab my sketch pad and pull up some random drawings I’ve been fiddling around with recently, one of which happens to be a spiderweb. I show it to him, and he nods.
“Cool. Yeah, come on back and we’ll get started. The only thing is, since this isn’t flash, I don’t have the image printed on transfer paper here. I’ll have to freehand it.”
He shrugs. “That’s fine. I trust you.”
I sputter a laugh, another wave of heat licking at my skin as I catch myself leaning in a little closer to this mysteriously captivating stranger.
“You don’t even know me,” I say.
“You have a trustworthy face.” He smiles wider and my eyes flick down to that hoop through his lip again. I’ve never kissed a guy with a lip ring, but right now it’s all I can think about. Would he gasp if I tugged it gently between my teeth, moan against my lips if I teased it with my tongue?
My cock swells, but Jag’s snicker behind me draws me out of my fantasy.Jesus, Hero, don’t eye fuck the clients, I scold myself.
I clear my throat and take a step back. “Cool. Go take a seat and I’ll grab the consent form and be right there.” I gesture towards the empty chair I’ve had my clients in all day.
I grab one of the clipboards and a fresh package of needles and gloves, then head over to join him at my makeshift station.
While he fills out the form, I start making a mental plan of exactly how I want to lay the spiderweb over the contours of his shoulder. He hands me the form once he’s done, and I glance at it to make sure it all looks good.
“Onyx. That’s a kick-ass name,” I say as I set the clipboard aside and start pulling on a pair of gloves so I can get to work prepping his shoulder.
That spark of amusement dances in his green eyes again and he purses his lips like he’s trying not to laugh.
“You don’t know who I am, do you? I thought for a second you recognized me and that’s why you were…” He trails off, tugging his lip ring between his teeth just like I was imagining doing myself a few minutes ago.
I cock my head. “Should I?”
