Imperfect Affections

I shake her hand. “Thank you for seeing me. I thought I was meeting Mr. Goodman.”

After shaking Leon’s hand, she sits again, indicating the chairs facing her desk. “Please, have a seat. Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thanks,” I say, balancing on the edge of my seat.

“Something stronger than tea or coffee, maybe?” she directs with a polished smile at Leon.

He throws an arm over the back of my chair, resting his hand on my shoulder. “No, thank you.”

“A lot of people are surprised when they find out I’m the owner.”

“You are?” I say stupidly.

“Indeed.” She pushes a pair of fashionable glasses onto her face. The parts of her body that are visible under her halter-neck dress are devoid of tats. “Joseph is responsible for the artistic side of the business while I take care of the rest.” She waves at the clipboard in my lap. “Go ahead and fill that out so long.”

Directing her attention at Leon as I take the pen and start filling out the form, she says, “I run this place like a high-end plastic surgery enterprise. It’s a similar marketing model, really. Our clients come here for the same reason people want to change the shape of their noses or fix droopy eyelids. They come here for beauty.” She taps a red nail on the desk and adds with animated enthusiasm, “My motto is giving them exactly what they want. That’s what distinguishes us from other tattoo parlors.”

I hand her back the form. “All the details are there. I left the area with previous experience blank since I haven’t worked in any related fields.”

I deliberately left out that I worked at Starley Solutions. There’s an advantage of having changed my surname to Hart after all. Knowing Gus is my stepfather may scare her off.

She scans over the form, barely reading it. “I promised Joseph I’ll do your husband a favor by seeing you, but you should know beforehand that a job here will only be given on merit.”

Wiping my hands on my thighs, I say, “That’s fair.”

She gets to her feet. “Follow me.”

The hum of a tattoo machine is absent as she leads us into a bright room at the back. I expected to hear the buzz and see Joseph bent over a client while listening to hard rock, but the scene that meets me is very different. The set-up is white, almost clinically so, with a leather sofa framing each side of the room. A medical bed stands under a big spotlight in the middle of the floor. The only decoration is white lilies in a vase on a high table next to the door. A sign that reads Changing Room hangs above a mirrored door on the side. Classical music plays softly through speakers mounted on the ceiling corners. The space smells of lemons and ink.

Joseph Goodman sits at a desk in the corner, facing a young woman who takes up one of two visitor chairs. They look up when we enter.

“Joseph, Holly, this is Violet. She’s sitting in for this session.” Taking Leon’s arm, Vero says, “Let’s give them some privacy,” before leading him out.

Joseph waves me over. “Grab a seat.”

Acutely aware of my limp, I cross the floor and take the chair next to Holly.

Vero returns sans Leon and walks to Joseph’s side. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Joseph pushes a drawing pad her way. A charcoal sketch depicts a skull with a crown of roses hanging on the short side of a cross. The cross stands in a puddle of water. The mirror image reflected in the water is slightly blurred.

“Very nice,” Vero says. “What do you think, Holly?”

Holly rests her chin on her hand. “It doesn’t speak to me, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s an original Goodman,” Joseph says. “It’ll take me six hours. If I sign my name at the bottom, you’ll have a collectable piece of art on your ass.”

Holly wrinkles her nose. “It’s just not me.”

Sighing, Joseph crosses his hands over his stomach and leans back in his chair. “Take it or leave it, sweetheart. I have other clients to see.”

Vero studies the drawing sideways, tilting her head left and right. “What was the brief?”

“Timeless and love hurts,” he says. “She said she liked roses.”

“I don’t know.” Holly slaps her thighs. “Maybe it’s the cross. Maybe if we try without it?”

Vero picks up the sketchpad. “Is that what the reflection symbolizes? Timelessness?”

“It’s a symbol of timelessness, yeah.” Joseph addresses Holly. “You sure you don’t want the cross? It’s a good symbol for sacrifice and pain. Listen, sweetheart, it’s your body, but if you want my opinion, it’s going to be unbalanced without the cross.”

Holly grimaces. “That’s just…” She lifts her eyes to the ceiling and says after a moment, “Too in your face.”

I take in her attire. She’s dressed in a sundress that fastens with ribbons on her shoulders. Her long hair is braided down her back. Her strappy sandals are feminine, as is the pale pink color of the varnish on her toenails. She’s classic, ultra-feminine, and judging by the absence of jewelry, minimalistic in her style.

“May I?” I ask, reaching for the sketchpad.

“Hey.” Joseph rides on his chair. “Knock yourself out.”

Vero hands me the pad. I turn the page, take a charcoal pencil, and draw a rough outline of a single rose with a thorny stem that bleeds into an infinity sign. I turn the pad around to show Holly.

She leans forward, her neck straining as she studies the drawing.

“This will work beautifully on your side,” I say. “It can run from under the curve of your breast to your waist. The lines will be thin and the only color red. With Joseph’s skill, he can add some transparency to the petals.”

“Yes,” she says slowly, her eyes lighting up. “That’s more like me. I’d like to add a few more thorns though.”

I give the pad back to Joseph. “I hope you don’t mind the input.”