Page 20 of The Ninth

Mama: Is everything okay with Cassandra?

I sat forward in my seat. The words were on the tip of my tongue. I could feel her on the other end, waiting for me to confess. Instead, I slumped back down.

Me: Everything’s going great. She’s nice. Her friends are. I’m about to go to a tattoo shop. I’m doing well.

Mama: Are you sure? You don’t sou—

I shoved a big piece of omelet in my mouth.

Me: I have to go, I’m late! Love you!

The words came out mumbled.

Before she could plead out for me to explain more, I hung up.

I sighed, pushing my sketchbook away. There’s no way I can tell on Cassandra. My parents would back me, but how could I possibly throw her under the bus? I’m the oldest in the situation even though she’s younger by a year. She didn’t force me to participate in anything. I’d tell she works at a strip club and then have to tell that I do as well.

After shoving my things back into my bag, I hopped up and sped out of the restaurant. I knew the only thing that could make me feel better right now was being inside of a tattoo shop. My lips curled into a smile. Damn, I hope the people in here are cool.

As I got about fifty feet from the door, I took note of a black Trackhawk idling on the curb. It was loud as fuck and polluting my lungs and everything else around it. As I passed it, the driver door opened, allowing all the weed smoke to escape.

Oh, fuck me.

“You decent as hell!” a deep, smooth voice called out.

The voice was sexy enough to cause me to glance over my shoulder. I immediately regretted it once I heard the truck cut off. My feet picked up speed, rushing into the shop as the truck door shut. My mind could barely focus on the impending doom behind me as I took in the place.

Black owned. Black artist. Sade played through the speakers. A faint scent of weed and incense sticks was in the air. There was chatter in the back rooms, but it was low, matching the mood. Albums, licenses, and awards lined the walls. The walls were a deep chocolate and the furniture matched with accents of gold. Suddenly, not getting a job here wasn’t an option.

The front door dinged behind me. I was brought back to reality, remembering the man who followed me in. I could smell the same weed coming off of him that came out of the truck. He didn’t stand behind me in line. He just sat in the waiting area. His eyes were all over me, I could feel them.

Thankfully, a pretty woman came from the back. She glanced at him but didn’t acknowledge him. She wore a cropped shirt, airy sweatpants and her curls into a bun with a headwrap. She smiled, showing me her grill.

“What’s going on! Sorry if you waited long, baby.”

“Um...the man behind me?” I whispered.

“Mhm!” she responded, loudly.

“He followed me in here.”

She looked behind me, cackling. My stomach dropped as she caught her breath.

“Baby, you raw but I’m afraid it’s not your beauty that brought him in here. He works here. Well, he owns the shop. It’s his business and his alone.”

My head snapped around, finally looking at him. Just as I thought, he was already looking at me. All over me. After holding eye contact, he scanned the rest of my face...and then my entire body. He wasn’t afraid to show that he was drinking me in. Assessing if I was good enough. And after looking at his face, I almost wanted to turn to give him a better view.

He was dark skinned with deep waves. He had on Timbs, designer jeans, and a plain white shirt. The only jewelry he sported was a gold cross on his chest and a gold watch on his wrist. This was my first time in the shop, and he looked more out of place than I did. He looked like a dope boy, which I try to avoid. Twist was just an in the moment thing. He would never be able to call me his. For some reason, my mind was making excuses for the tall, thick, chocolate man behind me.

I turned, looking back at the worker. She smirked as I adjusted my clothes, bag, and hair. Her eyebrows raised, waiting for me to tell her what I needed.

“I’m just looking for a booth. Apprenticeship. A start.”

She smiled bigger. “Ah! Well, it’s your lucky day. Niggas be so hard to find in person!” she yelled towards him.

He laughed, “You tweakin, shorty.”

“My name is Bernice. Hopefully I’ll see you soon!”