I finish the last line. "You're done."
The girl in the chair sighs with relief.
I turn the gun off. Set it down. Wipe my brow. This is where I say something encouraging. Congratulate her on making it though her first tattoo. Congratulate her on how awesome it looks.
It looks fucking amazing.
But that does nothing to convince me to smile.
"Here." I turn her toward the mirror.
Her eyes go wide as she takes in the words on her ribs. They're lyrics to her favorite song. She's been humming it for the last twenty minutes.
I've never heard it before.
But they're solid lyrics.
The kind of shit that makes you think about love. And losing it. And how far you'll go to get it back.
They might as well scream you miss Iris.
"Oh my God." Her eyes go wide. She looks up at me with a hazy smile. "This is so cool, Walker. Thank you." She throws her arms around me and squeezes tightly.
It's normal. Even if she's only wearing gauze and tape over her tits.
I pat her back. Hug her the way I usually do. It feels weird. Wrong. I don't want intimacy. I don't want gratitude. I don't want anything but Iris.
And Iris eradicated from my thoughts.
"You did great." I clear my throat. "You'll be back to add the chorus in no time."
Her giggle is nervous. She pulls back. Grabs her t-shirt from the chair.
"We have a back room—"
"It's fine." She pulls her shirt over her head.
I take her to the counter. Give her my usual after care speech. Accept a generous tip. Ignore Leighton's glare.
The customer's smile gets wider. Her eyes fix on mine. "I know you're probably sick of this song, but my friends and I are doing this karaoke thing, and I'm gonna sing it, and probably flash the entire room." Her cheeks flush. "You could come. If you want."
Leighton glares.
"Send me the details on Instagram." I walk the customer to the door. Yeah, her name eludes me at the moment. Now that I'm out of the chair, every bit of sense in the world eludes me.
"You smell like pussy." Dean pushes himself onto the counter. Offers Leighton an ain't I cute smile.
She shakes her head no, you're not.
I stare back at Dean. "I don't." I showered last night. And again this morning. I scrubbed myself raw trying to erase the scent of Iris.
It didn't work.
I can still smell her shampoo.
I have no fucking idea how the smell of her shampoo found its way onto every item of clothing in my closet, but it did.
My entire apartment is mocking me.