them to come—”
“No,” I shook my head, as I pulled out my machines. “Better they’re not here at all. I want to get these guys done before anybody else comes in. They’re celebrities; they don’t need other clients gawking over them or some shit.”
“O-oh,” Gus stammered and scratched his bald head. “Shit. I didn’t even think about that. Maybe I should tell them to cancel their appointments for the day.”
I met his eyes with an unintended incredulity. “Uh, yeah,” I said, nodding. “I would.”
“Fuck. Okay. Yeah, I’ll call them up right now.”
As Gus hurried to the phone, I called after him, “Yo, let them in first, man!”
Clearly flustered and in over his head, Gus smacked a hand over his eyes. “Jesus Christ. I’m not cut out for this shit. Okay, okay, calm the fuck down,” he pushed out a few deep breaths and nodded slowly, “okay.”
Then, he opened the door.
The applause and cheers from the crowd outside wasn’t unlike a barreling train whizzing by. They were so boisterous in their excitement, but maintained a healthy respect and distance for the group of men, as they hurried from the buses and into the shop. Gus locked the door and drew the curtains, allowing them privacy. He busied himself with introductions and a brief tour as I sat down to ready myself and quietly observe these guys before meeting them myself.
They were all heavily inked except for one. It was funny, like one of those Sesame Street segments from back in the day—one of these things isn’t like the others, or some shit like that. I wondered how the hell he’d managed to get roped into a touring gig with these guys, but then again, what must people think when they saw me with Audrey?
Their personalities differed from sagely to quiet and reserved to boisterous bordering on obnoxious. That was the one who approached me first, a blond guy with his hair tied back in a knot. Considering the size of his big arms and a lean everything else, I guessed he was the drummer. Obviously the outgoing one of the bunch, he sauntered over with his hands in his jean pockets, wearing a smirk.
“Blake Carson, I presume,” he greeted me, not yet offering his hand.
I nodded, unraveling a roll of paper towels and tearing them into sheets. “That’d be me.”
“Too cool to come say hi to us, huh?”
My eyes met his. “I don’t give anybody special treatment,” I replied, not caring who he was or what he did for a living.
“Well, that’s pretty fucking rude.”
This day was already off to an amazing start. I was devoting my Saturday to ink these hotshot rock stars who had the audacity to call the night before they wanted to come in, and now this guy was giving me an obnoxious attitude.
Furrowing my brow, I cocked my head and began to speak, “Well, sorry to—” But I was cut off by his laugh and a smack against my shoulder.
“Holy fuck, dude. Relax. I’m just messing with ya,” he said, gripping my arm and giving me a friendly shake. “I’m Sebastian and I like to fuck with people, it’s what I do.”
“Kick him in the balls if he pisses you off. He likes it,” another guy said, approaching me. He spoke with a more southern accent.
“Noted,” I said, allowing a laugh as I opened a drawer to pull out some inks.
“Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for making time for us. We don’t usually pull the celebrity card.”
“‘Cause we’re not dicks,” the southern guy added, “I’m Chad, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you guys,” I said.
“We grabbed this month’s ModInk, saw your shit, and had to stop by while we were in the area,” Sebastian explained.
“Which is only for the weekend, unfortunately,” the tallest of the bunch tacked on as he headed into the back. This one I recognized as Devin, the ringleader and the head honcho. “Although a few of us don’t live too far. We could’ve come up if you couldn’t fit us in.”
I shook my head. “Nope, you guys are good,” I said, standing up to snap my gloves off and finally shake their hands. “Blake.”
“Devin,” he answered, but I already knew that. I expected he realized but introduced himself anyway and I liked that. It was humble and relatable, to not assume that the world would instantly know his name.
I was introduced to the others—Tyler and Jon, the tattoo virgin—and I set to work, briefly consulting each of them to get