Gus nodded, confirming it was her he was talking about, and then ducked back into the back. I stood and walked over to Vasara, shaking her from her dozing sleep that she had fallen into.
“Gus will see you now,” I said. “If you don’t mind, I’ll sit in.”
“That’s fine,” Vasara said and smiled. “I’m just touching up one on my tits.”
The experience was eye-opening, to say the least. Vasara was rather comfortable with her body and disrobed immediately. I used the opportunity to duck back into the lobby and make a call. There was only one person I wanted to share the news with.
“Hello?” Deacon said when he picked up his phone.
“Guess what?”
“What?” he said cheerfully.
“I’m about to go sit in on an actual tattooing! Gus said he would teach me how,” I said gleefully.
“That’s great,” he exclaimed. “When?”
“Now, actually,” I said, laughing. “I just had to share the news. I’m about to burst I’m so excited.”
“Well, go,” he said, laughing too. “Don’t leave until I get there, though. I want to take you out to celebrate this new step.”
“Like dinner?” I asked.
“Sure. Maybe a bottle of whiskey too. Do you have a favorite brand?”
“No. I just like whiskey. I don’t really know the difference between them.”
“Well, I do,” he said, “and I am not going to bring you crappy stuff. You deserve the good shit.”
“I get off at eight,” I said. “You’ll be here?”
“With bells on,” he said.
“Well, it is a celebration,” I said, giggling. “Bells are appropriate, I think.”
“Fair enough. Bells it is,” he said.
Watching Gus work was art in progress. He was so meticulous with each movement, so precise in his thought pattern and so exact in each touch of needle to skin, it was fascinating. What began as lines and circles slowly morphed into finished pieces, and what was once an old, poorly drawn tattoo was touched up into something beautiful.
Vasara was also an absolutely delightful customer. Comfortable under the needle and amiable, she kept the room light as Gus focused on the work. When he told her that he was training me and showed her some of my drawings that I had done for him that day and encouraged me to show her my sketchpad, she was impressed.
“Maybe you could do my next piece,” she said. “I have a doodle of it in my phone. I’ll show it to you when we’re done.”
“That would be fun,” Gus said, grinning. “Is it the volcano with the dragon you were talking about last time?”
“It is,” Vasara said.
“It’s on her ass,” Gus said, laughing. “Her drawing of what she wants it to look like is my favorite piece of customer art I have ever seen.”
“Stop,” Vasara said, but her smile was wide and pleased.
“I would love to help,” I said.
“Then help,” Gus said. “Come here. Put on some gloves.”
I nodded and took a deep breath. I knew this was what I had waited on all this time. I had taken the course and paid the fee a long time ago to get my apprenticeship license. Actually, Gus had paid for it all for me, wanting to make sure that even with me only being there part-time to run the desk that no one could hassle us in the parlor if I had my paper.
But up until now, Gus had never mentioned me actually apprenticing, or doing any tattoo work. Now, here I was, reaching across a topless woman who seemed as trusting as a happy puppy and Gus’ watchful eye. My fingers wrapped around the needle, and Gus met my gaze.
“You ready?” he asked.
I nodded. “I am. What do you want me to do?”
“Draw,” he said.
My body was still shaking when Vasara left, the tattoo bandage on her chest. I couldn’t believe I had just done that. It was so exhilarating and gratifying, and I felt like I had done a good job. Gus and Vasara were both pleased, and I felt like I had done Gus proud. I had done myself proud.
There was only a half hour or so before the shop closed, but no other appointments. When Deacon pulled up in his truck, Gus smiled and flicked off the lights in the back. He opened the door for Deacon and then stepped outside, turning back to me.
“Lock up, will you?” he said, grinning.
I nodded and wrapped my arms around Deacon’s neck.
“I did it. I tattooed!”
“I’m so happy for you,” he said. “I brought you something. Come on.”
I followed him outside, flipping off the lights and locking the door behind me. As we got to his truck, he opened the passenger’s door and pulled out a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of top-shelf whiskey. Or at least I assumed it was top shelf. I didn’t know for sure, but it had some kind of Gaelic name and was dark and thick looking in an ornate glass bottle.