After a moment’s consideration, she nods. “Do they have any champagne?”
I grin. “Let me check.”
I walk up to the bar and order a bottle of Verve Cliquot, and come back with two glasses hanging from my fingers. She presses the elevator button, the doors slide open, and I notice a distinct bounce in her step as we walk in.
“Hey, Pierce!”
A guy holds the doors open. It’s somebody who thinks he’s my friend.
“Who let you in here?” I ask. I don’t even smile.
He sidles up to me, lowers his voice. “Up for some Charlie?”
“No,” I tell him.
“Come on, mate. I got my boys here and they’d really like to meet you. Big fans.”
I lean closer to him, beckon his ear. He points it toward me. “I don’t give a fuck,” I say. I turn around to leave, but he grips my arm, stops me.
“Where are you going, bro?”
I look down at his hand. He lets go instantly.
“Fucking touch me again,” I growl.
“Look man, I don’t want any trouble.” He’s backing up now. “Just thought you might be up for a bump or two. It’s on me, mate. Really, I’d be honored.”
“Leave,” I tell him.
“Alright, I’m going.”
“No,” I say. “This club. Leave it.”
Now his expression changes. He’s getting amped. “What?”
I look toward the bouncer by the lift. The bouncer nods, and within seconds has the guy locked up with his arms behind him. The prick is forced out the fire exit.
The elevator doors slide shut. I catch Penny smiling in the reflection, and there is an unmistakable look of relief on her face.
“Who was that?”
“Nobody I know.”
“What, the bouncer owe you a favor or something?”
“No,” I tell her. “I’m one of the owners of this club. Bought in last year.”
The expression on her face is that of slight puzzlement.
“I’m getting into business now so that when I’m too old to fight, I’ll have something.” I explain. “And in the underground, you get old fast and hard.”
“Good for you.”
“You don’t approve?”
“Clubs just aren’t my thing.”
“Well, that’s why we’re leaving it.”
Pierce pops off the champagne bottle cork, and lets the froth spill off the edge of the balcony.
“There could be someone down there, you know.”
“Oh, there probably is.” He peers over. “Yup, there’s people down there.”
I go to the balcony, and look over. The line to his club is right below us. Some people are looking up now. They put their palms out, checking if it’s raining.
I hold back a laugh, and say to Pierce, “It’s like you can’t help but to be a prick.”
“That’s called charm, Pen.”
He pours me a glass and hands it to me.
“You drink much?” he asks.
“No. And I don’t need babying,” I tell him, frowning. “It’s just a glass of champagne.”
He shrugs. “So, what are you in Melbourne for?”
“How do you know I’m in Melbourne for anything?”
“You’re American. You’re here for a reason.”
I lick my lips. “I’m here to do an apprenticeship.”
“So you’re not yet a tattoo artist.”
“No, not technically. I’m here to train to be one.”
“You like tattoos?”
“I like the art, the meaning. I like the idea of people wearing their skin as an expression of themselves.”
“Are you any good?”
“Yeah,” I say, grinning. I take a liberal sip from my glass. It actually tastes far better than I thought it would. It’s my first time having champagne. I don’t know the brand, but Veuve Clicquot sounds pretty fancy.
“I think I’m pretty talented. I’m not being stuck-up or anything, just that I know how to analyze my own talent. I’ve spent a lot of time studying drawing technique and all that.”
“So, what, you opening your own shop?”
“No, it doesn’t work like that. I’ve got to apprentice for an established artist, first. They need to vouch for me to get my license. Then I can open my own shop.”
“When do you start?”
“I’ve got an interview tomorrow,” I say.
“Think you’ll get it?”
“I hope so.”
He grins. “What did you think of my tattoos?”
“I didn’t notice them,” I lie.
“Bullshit. Let me tell you something.”
He gestures at me to sit in one of the expensive-looking chairs on the balcony. I do, and he sits after.