Page 9 of Give Me Honesty

When I checked the clock, I realized it was almost time for my next client to come in. I had already created a stencil of the tattoo she wanted, so I hoped she liked it. Most of my clients gave me a visual of what they wanted, and I did my best to execute their vision while also adding my own creativity. I wasn’t the type who liked to copy exact designs from other artists, and I made sure my clients knew that upfront.

“Hey, your client just made it in,” the receptionist, Trixie, informed me. There were a couple of women who worked in the shop, and they were cool overall. I tried to keep my interactions with the staff to a minimum, but everyone seemed down to earth and about their business.

“Alright, you can send her in.”

I double-checked to make sure everything was sanitized and ready to go. Some might call it extra, but I kept my workstation clean at all times.

“Hey, she told me I could walk in.”

I heard a voice behind me. When I turned around, I was taken aback by the brown-skinned beauty. She gave a coy smile and held out her hand to me.

“It’s all good. "Your name is Jocelyn, right?” I greeted her and shook her hand.

“Yes, but you can call me Joce. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve been following your business page for a while now, but I finally got enough courage to book an appointment,” she admitted. It was something I heard often, so I nodded in response.

I showed her where to sit and began to go over the process with her. My eyes occasionally lingered on her smooth, glowing skin, but I tried not to stare too long because it was unprofessional.

She reminded me of a model, with her long legs and alluring facial features. Her makeup was nice, but it wasn’t anything over the top. Her long locs were pulled into a high bun, decorated with gold jewelry and charms. She wore business attire, which caught me off guard, since she was here for a tattoo. When she removed her blazer, I saw a few scars on her arm, but otherwise she had no tattoos or other markings.

“What made you decide to get such a large tattoo considering this appears to be your first one?” I asked.

The design she requested was a pretty nice size, but for a first timer, it was abnormal to see as their first pick.

“My dad recently passed away, and I wanted to do something to honor his memory. I’ve always wanted a tattoo, but I was too afraid to get one. Now, I understand how short life truly is, and I wanted to step out of my comfort zone.”

I nodded my head in understanding. A lot of people got tattoos in honor of loved ones who passed away. It was one of the main reasons I heard.

“That’s what’s up.” I generally wasn’t much of a talker, so most of my sessions were fairly quiet unless the client initiated a conversation. Most of my customers were okay with it, but a handful were certified yappers.

“What made you decide to become a tattoo artist? You seem pretty young,” she inquired.

“I loved to draw and create something from nothing. One day, I decided to try my hand at tattoos and the rest was history.”

She seemed cool, but I wasn’t in the mood for small talk. I prayed that was her only question, but luck wasn’t on my side.

Joce spent her entire session asking me every question known to man. At one point, I remember asking if she was the feds or something, because every time I thought she had asked her last question, she would fire off another.

“Oh, my goodness, this looks even better than I envisioned it. Thank you so much!”

She caught me off guard when she threw her arms around my neck and squeezed me tightly. I stood there unsure of how to react. With my sisters or my best friend, I never second-guessed myself, but this was different. I didn’t know her from a can of paint, and she was sobbing in my arms. After a few awkward moments, she finally stepped back and wiped her face.

“I’m so sorry for getting so emotional. I’ve been trying my best to move on as if my father’s death has been easy to handle when, in reality, I’m completely broken inside. They tell you time heals all wounds, but I feel more and more lost as the days pass. He always told me that I would be okay without him because he taught me everything I needed to know, but he was wrong. There’s still so much I don’t know about the world, and now I don’t have anyone to teach me any of those things.” She sniffled, trying her best to get her emotions in check.

I stood there stone-faced because I couldn’t relate to her emotions. My momma was locked up, and I didn’t know who the hell my daddy was. After years of badgering my momma, I was certain she didn’t know who he was either. I had never been attached to a parent in order for me to understand what it was like to lose one.

Meesha only gave a damn about herself, and she had been that way for as long as I could remember. My big sister, Miyana, was the one person who I could truly say took care of me growing up. I couldn’t relate to any grief and loss because neither of my parents had ever taught me anything worth respecting, let alone missing.

“It’s all good, shorty. I’m glad you liked the piece. You can pay your remaining balance at the front counter. I have to handle a couple of things.”

I could tell from her expression that she expected more from me, but I had nothing to give. She finally caught the hint that the conversation was over and headed out the door. Since she was my last client for the day, I prepared to head home. Since I had been cleaning throughout the day, there wasn’t much left for me to do besides sanitizing my chair and a few tools. After I finished, I grabbed my phone and locked up.

When I made my way to the front, I was shocked to see ol’ girl from my last session. Normally, our customers would pay at the front desk, and they would give us the total at the end. I didn’t know how to react when I saw Joce standing at the counter talking to Trixie like they were best friends.

I wanted to walk right out without addressing her, but I knew it would be rude as hell.

“You finally heading out of here, Solo?” Trixie teased me. She often joked about how long I spent in the shop, but she was here with me.

“Yeah, I’m sliding out. My sister cooked, so I’m about to grab my plate and take my black ass home.”