𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃

9: 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙡𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙩𝙨 *

𝗞𝗗

"You doin' a tap-out session then?"

My question lingered for a few seconds. The smile on my face grew into a low laugh as I looked at the fifty-two-year-old man in front of me. Seeing his reaction to the unanswered question let me know —he couldn't stand a ten-hour session. And especially not anything longer. Thirteen hours was my usual tap-out session time. With no interruptions, but not many of my clients were trying to sit for that long.

"Hell nah," Was his response. Leaving me, Stix, Kai, and Marci laughed at the blunt reaction.

It's the same with most clients that walk through the doors of Dreamville. Their excitement getting the best of them.

"Just let me pay you for two five-hour sessions instead," He pointed out and I was completely fine with the alternative. Besides, as I explained earlier, my tap-out sessions aren't as expensive as two or more five-hour sessions. Only because I map out my day of appointments for those ten-hour blocks out. They are handled with more care and it's scheduled almost two weeks in advance.

"That'll give me some time to get my head right." Nodding, I physically showed my understanding response. My perspective client stated he never thought of tattoos until now. This one being his first, but also for a special cause. So, it meant something near and dear.

While I was clean of the needlework — I was indeed the one pushing the gun against the grain. The only thing I had in common with a tattoo chair was my ears being pierced in high school. Although the piercing closed up after a few years of me being inconsistent — that was my limit. Not because of the pain, but because I knew that wasn't my side of the chair. I'm not breaking my skin.

My love for drawing was the reason I started tattooing. And even after countless opportunities for custom masterpieces — I stayed on my side. Being able to turn down some of the best artists was difficult. But? It wasn't my thing.

"Well let me know when you wanna do your first session and we'll work towards that. After next week for sure."

"Deal." He said and I stepped behind the empty spot at the receptionist's desk.

With a few notes taken down, I was able to produce some ideas for what he wanted. I knew it was a memorial design. Which I had done a few of, over the years. It's never the easiest sessions, but they can become entertaining for sure.

My customer gave the dates for his son's burial and the date he was shipped back home from Camp Lejeune located in Onslow County of North Carolina. His only son was killed during a storm on the U.S. Marine base. Those would be his focal points along with both of them being U.S. Marines. Putting him down as Mr. Terry, I got his phone number and within three days I'll have a few options for him to choose from.

"Thanks, youngin'. Imma get my nerves right and I'll be back, man."

"I hear you. I'll shoot you a text to show what design I came up with unless you see something better." He nodded at our verbal agreement, ready to head out the door when Kai had a question for him.

"How you heard 'bout the shop?"

"My daughter told me. She was listening to the radio. Heard about it on one of them hip hop stations for you young folks. I guess one of their radio people did a story on it. I had promised her we would come together, but she's more of a daredevil than her old man."