Enzo (Jinx Tattoos 1)

“Morning?” Enzo responded, wondering why the man was greeting him hours after they’d started their work day.

“You finally look fit for small talk,” Noah noted by way of explanation. “How was the movie marathon?” he asked as they shot the shit between custome

rs.

“Good, man. We threw some Kill Bill into the mix. I hadn’t seen that in a while.”

“Tarantino is a sick bastard, but a brilliant genius at the same time.”

“Right? Makes you wonder what the hell goes on in his brain if that’s what he puts down,” Enzo said.

“How’s my Irish sweetheart doing? I haven’t seen her around in a while,” Noah said.

As his former master, the older man knew Enzo—and those closest to him—well. The stars had aligned when Noah agreed to go in on a shop with him. He’d spent a lot of time freelancing, doing conventions, shows, and operating his own shop, Inked. This was a side-gig, he truly didn’t need. But they worked well together, and as a mostly silent partner who showed up one or two days a week, Noah earned a decent profit with little work.

“Doing good. She was holed up finishing off a deadline.”

“She works too hard,” Noah said.

“Yeah, try telling her that.”

Noah snickered. “Well, you can’t. That’d be the pot calling the kettle black. She still single?”

“Why? Are you looking to rock a cradle, old man? I already had Rhys sniffing around her,” Enzo grumbled.

Noah laughed. His mustache curved up and he shook his head, sending his dark brown ponytail swaying. “No, but if I did it’d serve you right. I never could figure out why you ain’t scooped that girl up yet. Not only is she cool as hell and hot, but she truly loves your punk ass.”

“You know how love and relationships screw everything up. Sexmakes things messy and not in a good way. I get my itch scratched, and I avoid the bitching, moaning, and deception.”

“You think she’d do you dirty?” Noah asked.

“No way. But I could never be what she needed. Like I said, best not to mess with what works.” Enzo shrugged.

“And when someone else does?”

“Why are you riding me so hard?”

“Just want to see you happy, boy. You’ve been off lately. She’s always kept you level-headed,” Noah replied with a shrug.

Enzo turned Noah’s words over in his mind. He’d been thinking deep thoughts about where he was in life and where he wanted to be. It made a man take a long, hard look inward. The true thing troubling him was the fact that he didn’t like what he’d seen. The bevy of girls in and out of his bed added nothing. They were an empty act with no intimacy. The pleasure it brought him was fleeting, and more trouble than they were worth. He was doing things out of habit. It felt stale and ill-fitting, like a skin he’d outgrown. “You know how it is around my birthday.”

“Umm,” Noah hummed, clearly not buying what he was trying to sell. He had a sixth sense for bullshit that way.

The bell chimed signaling a customer. Saved by the bell. Enzo walked over to greet his ten o’clock with thoughts of Aibhlinn dancing in his head. “Hey, Fiona, how are you today?” he greeted the thick girl with olive skin and dark wavy hair. Damn, I can’t even get away from Irish names today. He led her to the chair.

“Good. I stopped breastfeeding Avalon about a month ago, so according to the doctor, we’re good to go,” she said, grinning.

The proud first-time mother had been dying to get her baby’s footprints tatted on her back since she gave birth. He’d wanted to ensure it wouldn’t put her or her baby girl at risk, so they opted to wait until she finished breastfeeding. He took his craft seriously. It was about more than getting as many people in and out as fast as he could. He wanted his work to be a living piece of art they wore with pride. It should tell a story and be a conversation piece. He pushed himself to make each tattoo better than the one previous and completely customized to his canvas’ specs. “Right on. We still going with the original design?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m in love with that one.”

He smiled. He always suggested people sit on bigger designs before they came in to have them placed. “Good deal, let me pull it out of my file and get it onto transfer paper, and we’ll work on finding that perfect placement.” He patted her shoulder and moved back to the office to pull her manila folder. He’d done all the work for her husband, Mason, so when it was her turn for ink, they said coming to him was a no brainer. For that reason alone, he wanted to do her justice. He pulled the design and took a moment to refresh himself with the sketch. He turned the tiny footprints into the wings of a butterfly with Avalon’s name forming the body. Pleased, he began the preparation and focused his attention on the task at hand.

The hum of the needle and the warmth of the canvas through his gloved hands put him in the white zone where nothing else mattered.

Fiona was taking her ink like a champ, remaining still and staying Zen as she focused on the music coming out of the headphones she’d popped on just before he got started.

He wiped down the tattoo and surveyed the color. Darkening a few more spots, he wiped it down once more. “We’re done, Fiona.”