As Mike bent to his task, she realized she had disappeared from his consciousness, at least temporarily. His immersion in the work at hand was clear; the joy he felt as he imbedded the drops of color into the submissive form on the table was palpable. Markie couldn’t help but be pulled into the process, even as a spectator. She felt safe for the first time upon entering the shop, and she relaxed a little into the chair. As her breathing steadied, she looked again at her friend.
Toni’s eyes were shut, and her jaw clenched. She grasped the sides of the massage table, and Markie noticed how her knuckles were white with the pressure. As Mike pulled back to reload the gun with ink, Toni arched her back a little and shifted her hips. Bringing her hands together, she cracked her knuckles.
“You doing okay?” Mike asked and placed a hand flat on her belly above the job site. The gentle gesture and concern in his voice pulled Markie’s attention from her friend to the artist. He was looking intently at Toni’s face, reading her pain tolerance. “You need a drink of water or something?”
Toni rose up on her elbows and looked down at the area under assault. “Yeah, I’m good. How much longer? It hurts like a motherfucker.” She tried to smile at him, but the look was more of a wince. She lay her head back down on the table and regrasped the sides.
“Oh hon, we just got started. It’ll be a while. You need something for the pain? I got some Ibuprofen if you want it. Anything stronger you got to supply yourself.” He wheeled his chair back and pulled a bottle from the drawer. Shaking four tablets into his palm, he grabbed a water bottle from the table and wheeled back over to Toni. “Here, babe. Take these. Believe it or not, it’ll help.” He slid a hand under her neck and pulled her head up far enough to swallow the pills and a drink from the bottle. Laying her head gently back down, he rested his hands briefly on her shoulders, then pulled away to grab the machine.
Markie was surprised at the gentleness she had just witnessed. The menace seemed to have disappeared as soon as the machine began its whine and the process began. He had softened perceptibly, and Markie suddenly felt very drawn to him. She shook her head in disbelief and again felt discombobulated. It’s as if the tattoo shop were a hall of mirrors, and things appeared distorted then clear, only to become distorted again. This unsettling was unfamiliar to Markie. Having been at her job for as many years as she had, not much surprised her or shook her – she felt at 31 she’d seen about all the dark side of humanity had to offer. But this place, this feeling, this man, were all new, and along with the discomfort, she felt a slight tingling between her legs as if something had awakened that had long slept.
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