The North Star | COMPLETED ✔️

Chapter 7 ~ Job Interviews

Chapter 7

Zeke lead the way to a back entrance, and the smell of A&D ointment and smoke wafted out to me the moment he opened the door. We followed the sound of Ozzy Osborne's War Pigs down the hall to a larger room. Concrete floors painted black, graffitied walls, and artwork. Tons of artwork. Frames of every shape and size scattered the walls and as I scanned each one, I noticed a few pictures of either clients or artists.

Massage tables lined the whole right side, separated by small tables full of equipment and inks.

Zeke hurried forward. "Charlene." His serious tone drew my attention back to him.

A wooden counter wrapped the wall that faced the front door, more pictures of artwork and photos covering its surface. The woman behind pushed her copper curls from her face and offered a forced smile at Zeke's approach. "Good." She heaved a sigh. "Maybe you can help with this." Her eyes pleaded as she tilted her head to the man stood across from her.

Zeke's whole persona shifted. The jolly seemed to fall away as his shoulders squared, muscles tightened. Within an instant, he'd positioned himself between the two, blocking the view of the woman entirely.

The man took a step back. "I don't see what the problem is?" he said. "They're just ashes. Just mix a little in the ink. You don't even have to touch it."

He held an urn in his hands, and I realized why she looked that way. A shudder of revulsion pulled at my gut.

This guy wants a dead body in his tattoo.

Charlene touched a hand to Zeke's back and peeked around him. "I already told you. Our artists can't do that."

I heaved a sigh. Thank god. If they'd asked me to, could I? I didn't want to answer that question, not with my financial situation. I was grateful I wouldn't be asked.

Zeke visibly relaxed and clasped the man's shoulder. "I'm sorry for your loss, but we can't do that. I could lose my license." He motioned to another station where a girl sat.

Her bright blue hair was chopped to the scalp, and combined with her thin frame and tiny features, she looked like a Hell fairy.

"I'll tell you what, though, you go talk to Scarlet over there. I bet she can come up with just the tattoo to help honor your friend."

"My brother," the man said, voice rough. "He was my brother."

Zeke's expression softened as his hand fell away from the man, and he pulled up his arm. "I got this bear when I lost my brother."

The man looked at the tattoo, eyes red with unshed tears. When his gaze met Zeke's again, a quiet understanding seemed to drift between the two of them.

His brother. The bear. I'd known it was something like that when I saw the date scrawled beneath it.

Zeke convinced the man to agree to talk to Scarlet, then turned a look over his shoulder at me.

"Jessie, this is Charlene. Charlene, this is Jessie. I'm interviewing her."

Her eyes ran over me, from my tattered hoodie to my dirty hair, but not an ounce of judgement crossed her expression. Her nose didn't wrinkle, lip didn't curl. "We're happy to have you, hon." She met my gaze and smiled softly before turning to Zeke and pulling him down for a kiss. "You bring her back to me before you let her out of here."

Zeke rumbled a laugh. "Yes, ma'am." He caressed her cheek, then winked at me. "You ready?" He motioned to an empty station, then stepped over and pulled himself up on the table. "There's some paper there for you to draw something up."