The Best of Winter Renshaw - An 8 Book Collection - Winter Renshaw Page 0,525

woman with icy blonde hair who makes me do a double take.

From this angle, I’m almost certain it’s Brighton. And for some reason, the mere idea of her standing in my shop again sends my heart into overdrive.

But Missy points at me.

And the woman turns my way.

She is abso-fucking-lutely not Brighton.

Not even close.

The blonde smiles at me and even from across the room, I spot the black between her teeth.

Stay away from meth, my friends.

She gives me a wave, the bottom of her cropped, vintage Van Halen top rising to expose a doughy midriff. And when she walks toward me, her mini-skirt rides up, barely covering her ass.

I need to get a fucking grip.

The woman had blonde hair. That’s it. And instantly my mind chose to believe she was Brighton.

“Madd, your nine o’clock is here,” Missy says.

“I’ll be with you in a sec,” I say to the woman. Her smile fades and Missy hands her a clipboard with paperwork. I head back and prep my station, waiting a few minutes to give her time to fill out her forms. When I return, it’s a quarter past nine. Anything we don’t finish by ten-thirty is going to require a second appointment. Returning to the front, I rub my hands together. “You ready?”

The woman hands me her clipboard and I go over everything as I walk her back.

“I’ve heard good things about this place,” she says in a raspy voice that instantly ages her. “Been waiting a long time to get in with you.”

“You have your design picked out?” I ask.

She pulls out her phone and taps her fake nails against the screen a few times before turning it toward me.

“It’s the Sanskrit symbol for faith,” she says.

I try not to act as surprised as I am. Would’ve pegged her for more of a red-rose-on-the-ankle or Tasmanian-devil-on-the-shoulder type.

“All right.” I take her phone and place it on my tray before grabbing my stencil gear. “Just going to trace this, make a stencil, and we’ll try it out before we ink you. You have a location in mind?”

The woman bites her lower lip, fighting a smile as she tugs on the front of her t-shirt just enough to expose the top of her left breast.

“Here.” She presses a fingernail into her fleshy skin, making an indentation that leaves a white spot for a few seconds.

I nod. This isn’t the first time someone’s asked me to tattoo their tit, and it won’t be the last.

Another teenage girl in back lets out a shriek, followed by something inaudible. Kind of hard to talk when your tongue swells up to twice its size.

“How long you been in business?” the woman asks as I sketch the symbol.

I exhale. I fucking hate small talk. And when I work, I prefer to work in silence so I can concentrate. It’s not like I can exactly erase any mistakes, and fixing shit is a pain in the ass. “About eight years. Give or take.”

“You from here? From Olwine?”

“I am. Yourself?” I trash my current drawing and grab a fresh sheet of stencil paper.

“Nah. New to the area. Met a guy online.” She rolls her eyes. “Followed him here like an idiot.”

“It happens.” I’m vaguely listening.

“I should’ve listened to my daughter when she told me he was only after one thing.” She brushes her blonde hair out of her face. “They say love is blind, but I think love is wicked. It casts a spell on you. A moron spell. And it makes you do stupid shit you wouldn’t normally do. Like move to BFE, Illinois because some guy by the name of MidwestAdonis77 promises you the world.”

“Midwest Adonis, eh?” I chuckle. “Let me guess. Beer belly, porn addiction, and still lives with his mom?”

“Nailed it.” She huffs, watching me sketch. “You have a girlfriend?”

Pierce passes us, a gaggle of teenage girls sucking on ice cubes behind him.

“Girlfriend?” He chuffs. “Madd doesn’t even have a tattoo.”

“You’re kidding!” The woman sits up, bug-eyed. “Tell me he made that up.”

“’K, I’m going to need you to lay down so I can transfer this,” I say, readying the stencil as she lies flat on the client bed and tugs the front of her shirt down. "Actually.” I stop and pull the curtain around us for privacy. “I’m going to need you to remove your shirt completely. Got to make sure this thing is straight. If it’s crooked, it’s going to be crooked forever.”

“My pleasure.” She winks at me, maybe an attempt to make this