I wipe down the reclined black chair with disinfectant and declare myself finished for the day. I’ve been tattooing since around ten, and my hands are screaming bloody murder.
A full back piece is a massive undertaking for the client as well as the artist. Today marked my third session with Jeff, and the dragon is so close to being completed.
I open and close my fists, wriggling my fingers to increase circulation and pop my knuckles. I’m going to have arthritis like a son of a bitch one day, but so is the fate of a tattoo artist.
I roll my neck, and the crackling brings instant relief.
I grab my kit and walk into my office in the back of the building. It’s a rarity I get out of this place before the sun is setting.
I plop down in the black leather chair and place a call to Teller-Morrow.
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