Perfect Collision (36 page)

It was something for her to do, but he did have some questions.

“For how long?”

“Nothing is set, but I think we'd be doing it for a while. We both have customers here, so we'll be back pretty often.” She gave him a weak smile “More time for you and April.”

“Don't do that,” he said, and pointed at her with a chuckle. “Don't try to throw me off. He thinks you're ready?”

“I'm pretty sure I'll sit and draw or run errands for him most of the time, but I think I still might learn a lot and meet a lot of people.”

She probably would, and he didn't think she'd just sit around and run errands. She was a great artist. He knew that, and if he'd had any doubt the other guys at Wicked Ink kept telling him.

“Where are you gonna live?”

“I don't know,” she shrugged. “Under a bridge, shack up with some of his drug buddies, or maybe just hotels?”

“Not like I can stop you. You're nineteen.” Although if he wanted to stop her, he could've, but in this case he thought it was a pretty fucking good idea.

“Yeah. So if I wanted to go to North Korea, it's not like you'd break his arm to stop us?”

“Wouldn't mess with a man's business,” he said, and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I'd put a bullet in his leg.”

Vi laughed. “So as long as I stay in the US, you're okay with it?”

“Canada would be okay.”

“Such a generous man!” She got up and came over to him, putting her skinny arms around his neck in a hug. “Love you.”

“Love you. Make sure you come home often. Your guy inside might be pissed if you don't visit him.”

“I know,” she said and sat down in his lap.

He couldn't remember the last time she'd done that, and as he wrapped his arms around her, he realized he'd missed it. Missed having a kid in his lap. Vi used to sit and play with his beard, and if someone tried to talk to her, she hid her face in it.

“This'll keep me occupied,” Vi continued. “And it gives me a chance to do this without pissing my man off.”

“Yeah, I don't think he'd be happy if you went on a long tour just when he's released.” He gave her a long hug. “Gonna miss you, and you still owe me another tattoo. Want more than the lizard.”

“I'll get you one, and I'm also gonna fix your lizard,” she said. He knew she thought his tattoo was shit, but he was just pleased he had the first ink she'd ever done, and he'd never let her fix it. She gave his cheek a kiss and stood up. “I'm going to bed.”

“I have an ask,” he said and took a deep breath. “Actually, it's Wolf who's asking.”

“Okay?”

“He's on his way out.” No point in dragging it out, and Vi's eyes grew bigger. “He's old, Katze. He want's to die in peace, and he wants to be an old bugger for a while before he does. You can still call him and discuss country and shit. You'll keep in touch.”

“Okay. What is it he wants me to do?”

“He wants you to do his out tattoo. It's just the word 'out' and a date, but he asked for you.”

“Of course.” She stood in silence. “Gonna be weird when he's gone.”

“People move on, baby girl. It's the way of life. He's not dead, and he'll be around, just not as much.”

“I know. Still sucks.” She pointed towards his bedroom. “She's waiting, and try to keep it down.”

“I'm not messing around while you're at home.”

“Did you already do the dirty?”

“I love you, kid, but I'm not sharing those details with you,” he laughed and got up, too. “See you tomorrow.”

April was reading when he came into the bedroom. “Is everything okay with Violet?” she asked.

“Yeah. She's gonna do a tour with Sami. Conventions and shit.”

“Should do her good to get away a little, and she'll probably learn a lot.”

“How do you even know what a tattoo convention is?” he asked as he lay down next to her and gave her shoulder a kiss. “I thought you were a good girl.”

“I know what a convention is, and I'm smart enough to figure out what a tattoo convention is.”

He laughed and pulled her closer. “Turn off the light when you're done.”

He woke up when she did and moved closer to him. Still half asleep, he threw his arm around her.

-o0o-

Mac was waiting outside the visitors center. It was Vi's third visit, and her visits were by far the best fucking thing that happened inside. At the same time, it was hard to see her and not be allowed to touch her properly. As far as he was considered, it was cruel and unusual punishment to have her right there and not be allowed to touch and kiss her.

As always, it was easy to spot Vi among the other visitors when he was allowed inside. She was sitting at a table wearing jeans, t-shirt, and a zipper hoodie. She looked great, and the smile she gave him when she noticed him, blew him away. He gave her a hug, as long as he was able to and inhaled deeply.

“Love you, Katze,” he whispered in her ear just before he had to let go.

They sat down, and she took his hand over the table. “How are you?”

“It's the same as always. Talk about you instead.”

“Sami has suggested a tour.” She looked down at the table. “A pretty long one, but we'll be back a couple of times a month.”

“Baby, don't...” He wasn't sure how to say it. “Don't lock yourself up here just so you can come and visit.”

She was writing him, and she did it often. He'd had around two letters a week along with drawings. Sometimes more. There were spelling issues, and she often seemed to start a sentence and not finish it, or write the same sentence twice, but he hadn't commented on it. It didn't matter, not at all. He loved knowing she'd be there for him when he got out, but it didn't mean he wanted her to just sit around and wait for him until he did.

Going to conventions sounded like a great idea. She'd do it eventually anyway, and he preferred her doing it while he was inside rather than when he'd just been released.

It wasn't just about tattooing, either. She needed to experience things before he got out, because when he got out, she'd be twenty, and he wanted to do all those things he'd once promised Bear he'd wait with. Get his ink on her, marry her, and knock her up. It was pretty much the only thing he could think about. He was starting to suspect too much time on his hands, in combination with too much jerking off while thinking about her, might be a bad combination.

“I'm not locking myself up, and I like to visit you,” she protested. “I miss you, too.”

“Are you pouting?”

She glared at him and then smiled. “No. I'm going on the tour. I'm more worried I'll end up sitting on my ass and not have anything to do. That I won't actually tattoo, and I need to do that as much as possible.”

“Go for the nervous eighteen-year-olds.”

“Yay! I'll be doing cherry blossoms and butterflies until they come out of my ears.”

“Don't worry about it, honey,” he said with a laugh. “What else is going on?”

He wasn't worried she wouldn't have much to do, and he was pretty sure Bear had thought about the same thing as he had. The Marauders were spread over big parts of the country, so there would definitely be people at those conventions who wanted her ink.

She stayed until she was forced to leave, and she promised she'd be coming at least once a month—two as often as possible. Mac was pleased, since he was able to sneak a quick kiss from her before he had to go back to gen pop.

“How's your girl?” Dawg asked him when he sat down at 'their' table.

“She's fine. She's going on a tour of tattoo conventions, and she's worried she'll be sitting on her ass the entire time and not be allowed to do any ink.”

“Think we can help her with that,” Sisco said with a shrug. “At least till things start moving by themselves.”

“How's your Old Lady doing?” he asked Dawg. “I saw the two of you.”

“Okay. You know Edie—she adapts. She's mostly pissed she still has the heartburn from hell.”

Later that night, he reached down below the cover and grabbed his dick. He had another year of jerking off ahead of him. He missed his girl, but the thought of her with one of those purple fake dicks made him smile a little.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:

Something About Her Money

-o0o-

IT WAS THE SECOND
day of my eighth tattoo convention, and we were on the sixth month of Mac's sentence.

Yes, I was keeping track, crossing off one day after another in a calendar, but I hadn't told anyone about it. I needed to physically
see
the days ahead of me and the days I'd cleared.

The first convention had been a surprise, since I got quite a lot of work. On the second, I figured out what was going on, and called Dad and told him to call off the fucking members flocking our table. Not like people wouldn't figure out what was going on. It would just make it look like I had to call in favors to be allowed to ink. Dad nagged and shit before telling me Mac'd suggested the same thing. The next time I talked to Mac, I told him I'd stop writing those damn letters if he did something that stupid again. I wanted to make a name by myself, and I knew I could, but their 'help' could ruin it.

The third convention had been pretty darn slow, but I'd done some smaller stuff. Quite often on heavily tattooed men in their forties, and some of them asked for dates. I was very happy to have Sami with me; he could glare almost as well as Dad could.

I got some more job on the following ones, and by this one, the eighth, I was starting to recognize a lot of the other artists.

I was scribbling when a woman in her thirties came up to our table. She looked through Sami's portfolio, watched him ink for a while, and then picked up my portfolio. Sami had suggested I add some drawings to it. I had, but I didn't like doing it. Anyone who know anything about tattooing knew that even if you were the most brilliant artist in the world, you could still be a shit tattoo artist.

The woman looked at me and the sketchbook I was holding.

“What are you drawing right now?”

I turned my book around to show her. She leaned forward and took it from me. I'd just been playing around and made flowers and butterflies in the shape of a skull.

“Can you tattoo this?” she asked, and I nodded.

It was just flowers and butterflies in a pattern, and I'd done a lot of both. The tattoo was more about design than technique.

“Who's your trainer?” she asked, and that's when I figured out she knew more than the average visitor. I pointed at Sami, who turned around. “Can she do this?” She held up the sketchbook for him.

“Yes,” he said and turned back to the guy he was working on.

The woman handed back my sketchbook, and took off her jacket before holding out her hand. “I'm Alice.”

“Violet,” I said and took it. “Please, sit down.”

She showed me where she wanted it on the inside of her lower left arm and told me to color it as I saw fit. I was pretty amazed she put so much trust in me, but I wasn't going to argue with her if she was giving me this opportunity.

“How long have you been doing this?” she asked when I started to shave her arm.

“Almost three years.”

She gave me a surprised look. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

I did a very basic stencil, just for the outer lines of the shape. There wouldn't be much black in the outlines, but I needed to get them anyway to have lines to follow with the coloring. Then I tore the sketch from my book and taped it up on the light.

When I started on the coloring, I realized it was the most fun I'd ever had doing a tattoo. It was all me; I didn't have to think about things. I'd done the drawing and if something didn't really work as a tattoo I could just change it, and no one could argue I wasn't staying true to the original.

I'd done things of my own before—like the Baxter family ink—but I hadn't been as comfortable with the machine then. This was just... pure fun. When I sprayed and cleaned it off for the last time, I felt a kiss on the top of my head.

“That's my girl,” Sami mumbled.

“It's truly amazing,” Alice said. “Did you have fun?”

“Yes,” I admitted and looked at her. “Are you a tattoo artist?”

“No,” she laughed, “but I'm married to one. I saw you had the technique and the eye for it. I wanted to see what you could do if I let you loose, and you didn't let me down.”

I took a picture of the tattoo, and she asked me to sign the sketch and if she could keep it. I agreed and after handing me the money, she was gone. I sat down and turned to Sami.

“I think that was the most fun I've had since I started.”

“Always more fun when you get to do your own stuff. Make sure you get that picture printed and add it to the portfolio. Best design you've ever done.”

Later that day, I was back to sketching when the competitions started. I grabbed some money to go get me and Sami something to eat before we had to pack up for the day. I'd been really eager to see the competitions before, but they were starting to bore me. Sami'd won a couple of things and that was cool of course, but otherwise it was mostly the same. A man yelling in a microphone while pointing at tattoos. When I came back, Sami gave me a strange smile.

“What?”

“Nothing. Start packing your stuff together. They're closing in half an hour.”

I was mid packing when I heard 'Violet at Wicked Ink' from the stage, and I turned to Sami.

“What did they say?”

“You just won runner up in small color of the day,” he said with a big smile. “What are you waiting for? Get up there!”

“On stage?” I was
not
good at doing stuff in public and was seriously starting to feel sick.

“Violet from Wicked Ink, get up here!” They yelled from stage, and to avoid thinking about it—which would surely make me puke—I took off.

I walked through the crowd and had, like, tunnel vision. When I reached the stage, a guard gave me a strange look.