I can’t. I had to take Wes to the ER. He was fucking around at work and almost lost his fingers. He’s freaking out, so I kinda need to stay with him. Can you do it for me?
I groaned. Ryan was always bailing his dipshit friends from high school out of one mess or another, and how Wes had managed to work as a mechanic trainee for this long without losing a full limb was a miracle.
He’s not gonna go for that. What does he even want?
It’s just a simple chest tat. It should only take two hours tops. If he doesn’t want to, tell him I’ll have to reschedule. Gotta go, they called us back.
I sighed, slipping my phone back into my pocket. Time to face the dragon. “Something came up and he’s not gonna be able to make it. He says you can reschedule, or I can do it.”
“You?” The disbelief in his tone was insulting, even if I knew better.
“Yeah, me. I’ve been doing this even longer than Ryan, you know.”
Shan didn’t answer right away. He worried at his bottom lip, staring off into space like it was some great consideration. And fair enough. Tattoos were wicked personal, and while I had so many that at this point, I’d put something on me just because I liked the way it looked, I could remember agonizing over my first piece for months on end. If Shan of all people was getting inked, I highly doubted it was for something casual.
“How long would it be if I reschedule?” he finally asked.
I shrugged. “Ryan usually books out anywhere from a couple of months to six.”
Shan’s eyes widened. “Six months? Are you serious?”
“He’d probably squeeze you in since you’re Kellan’s brother, but yeah. We’re the busiest shop on the east side.”
“And how far out are you booked?” he asked, a hint of curiosity in his gaze.
I snorted. “Nine months minimum for new clients.”
“Huh,” he said, pausing as if he was considering it. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was impressed or something. “Well, if you have time tonight, fine.”
That wasn’t exactly a thank you, but I’d take it. “Just let me wrap up with my client. You can wait out there, I’ll be done in ten or so.”
That must have been deemed an acceptable length of time for the prince to wait, because he walked back out to the waiting room without a word. When I went back to my station, my client looked like he’d been hoping I would forget about him.
“Alright, let’s get this finished for tonight. I’ll finish the shading next time,” I said, washing my hands in the sink before going through the whole song and dance of sanitizing my station again and putting on clean gloves.
“Yeah, sure,” he said, his voice laced with relief as I sat back down. “Hey, who was the hottie out there?”
I looked up, not sure why I felt a twinge of irritation at the question. My client was a typical alpha, and Shan was hot as hell, there was no denying that.
“Just my future brother-in-law,” I muttered in a tone of half-hearted resignation. I adored Kellan, and I’d never seen my little brother happier than he was with the omega, but the idea of spending holidays sitting across the table from Shan was a hard pill to swallow.
“Damn,” he murmured wistfully, staring at the empty doorway. “He’s feisty, too. If I was you, I’d hit that hard. Ow!”
“Sorry,” I said, trying to convince myself it was an accident that I just happened to go back over a particularly raw spot. “Lineart’s a bitch.”
He went quiet for the rest of the session, and once I’d wrapped his arm up, I went out to the desk to check him out. Shan was on the couch, flipping through a magazine he probably wouldn’t have been caught dead reading if he wasn’t bored.
“How much?” my client asked, reaching for his wallet.
“It'll still be sixty-five, but just sixteen for today since we didn't get to shading,” I said, turning the screen of the digital pay portal to face him before I went into my scheduling software. “I can finish you up in late October if that works.”
“Yeah, sounds good to me,” he said, swiping his card before signing. “Thanks, man.”
“No prob. Take care,” I said, waving as he walked toward the door. When he cast another lustful glance at Shan, I felt slightly less bad for hurting him a little. That really wasn’t something I ever did, no matter how much of a bitch the client was being. Hell, I’d kick someone out before I got unprofessional.
What the hell was wrong with me today?
“You can come back while I’m setting up if you want,” I told him, kind of surprised when he followed me. I still had to clean up the station, but I figured that would reassure him and keep his bitching to a minimum.
“You really let your clients pay in installments?” he asked, wandering around my station like he owned the place.
“They pay for what I did each session, yeah.”
“Is that even enough to cover the cost of the ink?”
I looked up from wiping down the chair with disinfectant. “What are you talking about?”
“You said it was sixty-five for the whole thing,” he answered, studying the award plaques hanging on the wall across the room. “That can’t even work out to minimum wage, let alone supplies and the rent for this…” he paused, wrinkling his nose as he glanced around the room, “...studio.”
I blinked at him for a few seconds and stopped what I was doing. “It’s sixty-five hundred for the whole thing. Not sixty-five dollars.”
He looked up, an expression of genuine surprise on his face for the first time since I’d met him. His cheeks turned pink before he looked away. “Oh.”
I smothered a laugh, because I knew that was just gonna set him off, but I couldn’t help but be amused. He was even cuter when he was flustered than when he was pissed. I went back to cleaning up the station before I wandered over to my desk and got my pens and sketchbook out.
“I usually do this beforehand, but Ryan says you didn’t fill out the form, so I’m gonna need you to describe what you want and where. I’ll draw up a sketch, and if you don’t want to make any changes, we’ll get started,” I explained, figuring it was a long shot he knew how things worked if he actually thought I charged that little.
He hesitated before going over to sit on the edge of the chair. He pulled out his phone and pulled something up on the screen before handing it to me. “This is the design I want, but I’d like it to say 'Elliott' somewhere. I’d prefer to have it over the heart, but I’m fine with anywhere as long as it’s not visible in work clothes.”
I took the phone and looked down at the zoomed-in picture of a shoulder tattoo with a pretty basic compass, except that the N for North was replaced with the Greek letters sigma and chi. It didn’t seem like his style at all, but I wasn’t really that surprised. Usually, when someone came in asking to get someone’s name tattooed on them--especially one over the heart--it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I couldn’t remember Ryan or Kellan mentioning that he was dating anyone, let alone an Elliott, and Shan really didn’t seem like the type to get some guy’s name on him. I told myself it was just professional concern and pushed the irrational twinge of jealousy aside.