Page 75 of Glorious Ruin
“That’s why I’m buying him a steak later.” I smirked, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “I’ll be back to pick you up before you’re finished. Go sweat, have fun, and try not to break our best friend.”
The lie stung a little deeper when he didn’t question me. With another deep, lingering kiss that tasted faintly of mint toothpaste, we parted.
“Alright. Love you, husband.”
“Love you, too,” I replied.
Asher wasn’t just a tattoo artist; he was a pillar in the New York ink scene. We had grown up together, two kids who didn’t fit into the boxes the world had assigned us. While I turned to the wrestling ring to channel my anger, Asher had turned to a sketchbook and eventually a needle.
His shop was located in a pristine, high-rent district in SoHo. It was a stark contrast to the grimy, neon-lit parlors we used to hang around in our twenties. Walking into Iron Ink felt more like entering a luxury salon. The walls wereexposed brick, the lighting was soft, and the air smelled of expensive eucalyptus and soap.
The little bell chimed over the door, and almost immediately, Asher popped out from the back room. He was still slender, but now sported a bright blue head of hair and was covered from his jawline to his knuckles in intricate, colorful tattoos.
“Cal!” He ran over, throwing his arms around my neck in a tight hug that smelled of coffee and ink.
“Ash.” I laughed, hugging him back. The familiar presence of an old friend instantly eased the tension in my shoulders. “Look at this place, man. You’ve gone full Hollywood on me.”
“Rent is high, but the clients tip better. It’s been too long, man. You look good. Tired, but good.”
“I’m surviving. How are you? How’s Maria?”
Asher’s face lit up. “She’s incredible. Actually, we just found out...she’s pregnant.”
My eyes went wide as I clapped a strong hand onto his shoulder and pulled him into another quick embrace. “No way! Ash, that’s amazing. Congratulations, man.”
“Thanks, dude. We’re terrified, but we’re so excited. But enough about me, I’ve seen the news. How are you holding up? How’s the husband?”
I let out a heavy sigh, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jacket. “It’s been a week.”
Asher nodded sympathetically, gesturing toward his private station in the corner of the shop. The leather chair looked comfortable, surrounded by pristine, stainless-steel trays and ring lights.
“So, I know you didn’t brave Midtown traffic just to catch up. What are you in for, Cal? Are we adding to that sleeve? Finishing the chest piece?”
I smirked, shrugging off my leather jacket. “I’m finally ready to get something on my neck.”
Asher stopped dead. “The neck?” His eyebrows shot up toward his blue hairline. “You’ve avoided the neck for years, dude. Thought you said you wanted to keep it clean for the corporate shit.”
“Corporate, and everyone around them, can go fuck themselves,” I said bluntly, taking a seat in his leather chair.
“Alright.” Asher sighed, letting out a short laugh as he pulled a stool over. “I’m game. Let’s look at some ideas. A skull? A traditional rose? Maybe a mandala—”
“I don’t need ideas. I know exactly what I want.”
Asher paused, looking at me. “Okay, let’s sketch it out. Where on your neck, and what is it?”
I tilted my head to the side, exposing the unblemished skin that ran from below my ear down to my collarbone. “Right here.” I tapped my finger against the side of my neck, directly against a spot that would be visible no matter what kind of shirt I wore. “And it’s the nameSilas.”
“Silas,” Asher repeated, letting out another laugh. “You want his name on your neck?”
“Yep. I’m sure about this, Ash.”
“Oh, I know you are.” He shook his head as he wheeled his stool closer to the drafting table. “You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. I’m just pissed off.”
“Pissed off?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Well, yeah. We’ve been friends since high school. I did your first tattoo on your goddamn knuckles in my mom’s basement, and you’ve never let me meet the damn guy. Now I’m permanently etching his name onto your jugular.”
I burst out laughing. It was a genuine and deep sound that I hadn’t made in weeks. “You will eventually. I promise.”
