to smirk suggestively at her, and when she noticed, her eyes widened with a stern, silent warning to keep my big mouth shut.
"Yeah, it was," Shane answered. His voice held that euphoric quality a lot of people adopt when in the throes of receiving new ink. The haze. The high. I knew it well, and listening to him now, nearly breathless and serene, I was jealous. "He left it to me when he retired. That was nine years ago now. Crazy how fast time flies."
"I remember when you took over," she said. "The internet exploded. Nobody trusted you."
The room filled with Shane’s short, gruff laugh. Like the memory still held insult for him. "Yeah, nobody likes change. But I'd like to think I've done a good job. I mean, I love my dad, but things had gotten pretty stale, in my opinion. He didn't like to take many risks, you know? He was very set in his ways, in the styles he liked, and didn't want to venture outside of it."
Celia winced apologetically. "I remember. He showcased a lot of traditional artists, standard piercings, and not much else."
Folding an arm beneath his head, Shane nodded. "He was afraid of the controversy that might come up if he, I don't know, showed off a killer set of microdermals or subdermal implants. He didn't wanna piss off the reader base." He chuckled lightly. "The guy hated the idea of stepping on toes. He hates confrontation. Hell, you should see him on holidays. The family starts talking politics or religion, and he flees the scene."
"Sounds like my family," Celia laughed with him. Flirtation bled from the sound and I made a mental note to tease her about it later on.
But for now, I simply quipped, "Sounds like every family."
"God, isn't that the fucking truth," Shane muttered, shaking his head.
The needle dipped close to the ridge of his ankle bone and he flinched. I lifted my machine on reflex and flitted my gaze to his, making sure he was okay. “You good?”
"Yeah. Sorry, man." He smiled with the embarrassment of a guy trying to be tough but who couldn't shy away from the pain of needle hitting bone.
"No worries." I took the opportunity to wipe his skin of excess ink and blood and change my gloves. "Just a little more line work, and then we'll take a break before I start shading, okay?"
"Sounds good." He lifted a thumbs up. “I could use a smoke.”
"If this guy gets too rough, don't be afraid to kick him in the face," Celia teased, rounding the table to brush her knuckles against my shoulder.
"Nah, I'm good. No pain, no gain, right?" A chuckle rumbled from Shane's chest as he eyed Cee with half-hooded lids. I knew carnal interest when I saw it, and I smirked privately, dipping my head to return my attention to my work.
"So, Blake, how long have you been tattooing?"
The realization that I'd forgotten about the interview laid over me like a too-hot blanket. "Hey, uh, Shane ..." I leaned away from the table, sat straight on my stool, and pulled my gloves off before scratching at my ear. "I forgot to mention … about the interview ..."
Lifting on his elbows, Shane said, "Dude, I caught the drift with your vow of silence over the past hour."
Celia's laugh burst from beside me. "Oh, don't take it personally. He's usually a mute while he works."
"Not always," I muttered in defense.
"No, it's cool," Shane cut in with a smile. "You get in the zone, I understand. But seriously, don't worry about the interview. I'll get you another day. I'm just trying to make conversation. Unless you'd really prefer to stay silent, in which case Cee and I can continue shooting the shit."
Cee. My ears pricked at the warm familiarity in his tone as the stolen nickname dropped from his mouth. He smiled at my friend, his eyes meeting hers, and when her cheeks blotched in a new shade of red, I knew any other prospects on Celia’s horizon had been forgotten. Maybe even for good.
I bowed my head and set back to following the lines, drowning my thoughts in the hum of the machine. "I've been tattooing since I was sixteen," I told him.
"Sixteen, huh?"
Celia pulled over a chair. "Gus took him on as an apprentice before he even finished high school, after he’d been fucking around with a tattoo machine in his buddy’s basement."
I nodded. “Yep. That’s about right.”
"When did you jump on board?" he asked