Ethan hesitated, waiting for one foot to prompt the other to make the first move. “Yeah, yes...yes. I have an appointment with Niko Melikov.” Feeling like a total pussy, he forced himself to walk to the counter. “This place is really cool. It’s not what I expected.” He scanned the decorative wood paneling rising halfway up the walls. “The pictures in the magazine didn’t do it justice.”
“Thank you. We love the place. Been in the family for decades. My name is Scarlet.” Her pale pink nails clicked on the keyboard. “New consultation, thirty minutes. Were you interested in an original piece or would you like to pick something from our stock designs?”
Ethan thought about the money he’d stashed in his room at Charles’s house. “I’m not sure.” Figuring there would be no way he could afford to have Mr. Melikov create an original tattoo for the limited budget his part -time paycheck allowed, he added, “Maybe one from the wall?”
A female voice chimed in from behind Ethan. “Do you do piercings? Sorry to butt in, but I have to be back at work in twenty minutes.”
The receptionist curled her lips into a tight grin. “As you can read from the sign on the window, this is a tattoo social club. The words ‘tattoo and piercing social club’ do not appear on the window. So…no, to answer your question.”
The blonde huffed and spun toward the door, mumbling, her platform heels clicking on the hardwood floor.
Ethan smiled. He liked Scarlet with her electric blue hair and feisty attitude, the mix of someone stepping out of a 1950s-inspired graphic novel. “I assume you get that request a lot?”
“Ugh, yes. The Professor refuses to add a piercing service. We’re overbooked as it is. At least two women come strutting in here every day wanting something obscene pierced.” She shuddered and laughed. “Anyway, you’re welcome to take a look at the designs on the wall to get an idea of what you’d like. As for the prices, they range depending on the design, colors, time involved. I have to tell you, other than The Professor, Niko has the highest prices. All of our artists are phenomenal, but Niko is in a stratosphere of his own. You can discuss prices and such during your appointment. He should be ready in about ten minutes.”
Ethan, tucked his hands in his pockets wondering what kind of guy would call himself The Professor? Figuring it’d be rude to rude to ask, he just nodded. “Thank you.”
“Let me know if you need anything. There’s coffee in the nook over there and sodas in the glass fridge next to the table. Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” Ethan fought the urge to turn and run for the door. Courage was his new friend and now was the right time to embrace the feeling. In a few weeks he was going to start a new life, one of independence and no compromising his self-worth. This was going to be the perfect way to do it with a bang.
He started searching the frames on the wall near the corner where a set of glass shelves housed a display of cigar boxes. Several looked new while others were so worn he could barely make out the names scrolled across the lids.
The colorful samples organized on the wall varied in color, size, and character. Some looked vintage with blue sparrows clutching bright-red twisted ribbons in their beaks. Ethan almost laughed at the macho tigers ready to attack. Black panthers, scrolling thick tribal lines, and flowers galore painted the pages.
Maybe an orange and yellow koi fish would look good? He’d read somewhere they signified a new start. The article might have been bogus, but the way the fish looked like it was weaving through water seemed really cool.
He stepped to the side, overwhelmed with the rainbow of colorful prints. The bright yellow and orange feathers spread wide from the body of a phoenix caught his attention. He wasn’t sure if pretty was the right description, but it was the first one to spark his imagination. The phoenix was probably the better choice. Besides, choosing a design off the wall had to be much cheaper than having a custom tattoo.
“Don’t tell me you want the Chinese symbol for strength tattooed above your ass crack, because I don’t do shit like that.”
Ethan shrugged with a silent laugh. He had no intention of having any writing on his body he couldn’t understand. “No.” The artist standing behind him had to be Niko Malikov. Ethan turned around. “I was thinking about a phoen—” When his eyes met the exposed skin stretched over bunched shoulders and thick biceps, the knot in his throat was back.
Holy mother the guy was covered with twists and turns of bright colors, shadows of grey, and scrolling letters. The detailed curves and stark lines bled into one another, leaving no naked skin untouched. The living landscape was painted from his fingers to the thick column of his neck.