Forbidden Harmony (Harmony Falls #3) - Elizabeth Kelly Page 0,4
the pleased look on his face. The guy could tattoo, and as long as he didn’t completely fuck up the question portion of the interview, Preacher was fucking hiring him.
He closed the binder and returned it to Nix. “How long you been tattooing?”
“Since I was twenty-three, so eight years now. I apprenticed with Akio Morimoto.”
Preacher made a low whistle. “You serious?”
Nix nodded. “I got lucky. My old man was a delivery driver. Used to deliver Morimoto’s supplies to his shop. They became friends.”
“You originally from New Cassel?” Preacher said.
“Yes. Moved to Maine for a few years and worked in a shop there. Moved back to New Cassel about six months ago and tattooed at a shop over on the west side. Then I saw your posting online.”
“Harmony Falls is a lot different from New Cassel. You ever live in a small town before?”
“In Maine,” Nix said.
“I know the town seems busy right now but it’s tourist season,” Preacher said. “I’m looking for someone who isn’t gonna quit on me once it’s winter and shit dies down.”
“I won’t quit.” Nix stared steadily at him. “I hate the city and I’m deliberately looking for something smaller.”
“All right. The shop’s usually open from eleven to seven, Tuesday to Saturday. You can set your own hours, but for the first three months you won’t be allowed to tattoo outside of the regular shop hours. Once the three month probation period ends, you’ll get a key to the shop and you can work outside of regular hours, if need be.”
“Sounds good,” Nix said.
“I charge a chair rental fee, it’s high but fair. Shop rules are pretty simple – no tattooing drunks, people high on drugs, or underage kids.”
“What about tattooing faces and hands?” Nix said.
“I try and discourage it, but it isn’t outright banned from the shop,” Preacher said. “I expect high quality tattoos. If you’re consistently fucking up a tattoo, or if you show up drunk or high, I’ll kick you out of the shop. It’s a small town and a tattoo shop that has unreliable artists, bad tattoos, or tattoos drunks and underage kids, will be sunk fast. You get what I’m saying?”
“I do,” Nix said. “I’ll follow the rules.”
“We get a lot of walk-ins during the summer. Enough that I can’t keep up. You good with tattooing walk-ins? Even when they want stupid shit?”
“Yes,” Nix said. “I saw on the website that the shop does body piercings. You have someone come in to do that?”
“Nah, I do it,” Preacher said. “I apprenticed in piercing the same time I apprenticed in tattooing. You certified to pierce?”
Nix shook his head. “No.”
“That’s fine. Mostly I get requests for nose and belly button piercings and not enough that I can’t handle it on my own. You got any other questions for me?”
“Not at the moment,” Nix said.
“Okay, well, I have a couple more interviews, but I’ll call you once I’ve made a decision.” He didn’t have any other interviews and he was ninety percent certain he would offer Nix the job, but if he’d learned anything, it was that making rash decisions had a way of backfiring on a guy.
“Perfect.” Nix stood and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“You as well.” Preacher walked him into the main tattooing area. “Email the shop if you think of any questions.”
Nix’s big body had gone still, and Preacher followed his gaze to where Gideon, wearing his sheriff’s uniform, lounged against the front counter. The tension in Nix’s body, the expression on his face, suggested he might be an ex-con as well. Preacher filed that information away and brushed past Nix to join Gideon.
“Hey,” he nodded to Gideon, “what’s up?”
“Not much. I was downtown, figured I’d stop in and say hi.” Gideon clapped him on the back as Nix joined them.
“Nix Cordell, this is Gideon Walker, he’s the sheriff of Harmony Falls,” Preacher said. “Nix is interviewing for a job at the shop.”
“Nice to meet you.” Gideon held out his hand and Nix shook it, the tension in his body easing slightly.
“You as well, Sheriff. Preacher, thanks again.” Nix shook his hand a second time before heading toward the door. “I look forward to hearing from you.”
He left the shop and Gideon leaned against the counter. “He looked… normal.”
“Fuck off,” Preacher said.
Gideon laughed. “He was wearing a tie and he didn’t smell like he just finished a three-day bender in a swamp like the last guy you interviewed. If he can tattoo, you’re gonna hire him, right?”