A Heart for Rebel (2 page)

I
HAD BREAKFAST this morning with Grams. She lives on
Central Park west. She's the only family member I have left. She raised me when
my parents were killed in a car accident. I was six when they died. We were on
our way to Sunday brunch. A fire truck with no emergency siren on ran smacked in
the middle of my dad’s car, dragging us two blocks before pushing us into
incoming traffic. I was lucky to have survived. I remember my mother pushing me
down and shielding me with her body. She died on top of me. I shake the thought
of my parents away. There is nothing I could have done to change what happened.
My focus right now is getting my clientele to grow. Being the owner of The
Madd Tatter and piercing shop is my only priority. I've been the proud owner
for a year. My clientele has been growing by word of mouth. We do good work and
our prices are competitive, but not too expensive. I had to take the shuttle
train from the west side to get to the east side. I get on the train on
forty-second street. I briefly look to my left and noticed a rather cute girl. The
train was so crowded it was hard to tell. I look away and reach into my pocket
for my iPod. I put on my ear plugs and crank up the music. Cute girl forgotten.

I hop off on
Chambers street, but not before stealing a last glance at the pretty girl. Disappointment
hits me when pretty girl is no longer there. I guess it's for the best. I don't
need any distractions in my life right now. I have to stay focused. I need to
stay disciplined, and not give in to my carnal needs every time a hot piece of
ass presents itself in my path. I unlock the door to the shop and get to work
right away. The first thing I do every morning is open everything up. Ink being
what it is, the place always requires a good scrubbing. I don’t buy the needles
ready-made. So each morning I have to set them up for the day. That involves
soldering different types of needles together in different configurations. Then
soldering them onto needle bars and run them through the ultrasonic which
cleans them. After all that is done I have to put them into the autoclave oven
along with all our tubes and our tips so everything's sterilized for the day's
work. I clean and sterilize all the chairs even though it was done the night
before. I make sure all the stations have the necessary equipment. Two tattoo
machines; a liner and a shader. My staff will need tubes and grips, needles, and
ink caps. They will each need a power supply, clip cord, lap clothes, A&D
ointment, green-soap, alcohol, razors, and paper towels. Tattooing is not just
something you can jump into either. I make sure every station has the very best
equipment. I only hire the very best tattoo and piercing artists. It’s what
sets me apart from all the other tattoo shops.

I’m in this
industry to make money and a name.

To do a tattoo
properly you've only got to break the surface of the skin. It doesn't actually
go in that deep and all you're doing is moving the needle to a little pot of
ink and then putting it on the skin. You do a line one to two inches long, wipe
it down with some antiseptic or just a wet cloth and put more ink in the
machine and carry on. It's not like drawing, that's the difference.

People will say
"I want to do this. I'm a good drawer". It's a completely different
form of drawing. You have to work in stages of an inch or so at a time. Working
usually backwards from where you'd rather. If I was to draw a face on a piece
of paper I would start perhaps around by the eyes, whereas if I was to tattoo a
portrait of a face on your arm, I'd probably start around the bottom of the
neck working up towards the chin. The process is completely different. As I'm
doing people I build up stuff in the ultrasonic jet. Throughout the day and
then halfway through the day, or at the end of the day, depending how busy
you've been. I put it into the autoclave which runs for about thirty minutes
and that goes up to something like two hundred and sixty degrees centigrade and
there's no virus that can survive that.

People think it's a
dark, seedy world and it's not. We are just normal people.

Just doing a job,
you know, it's just a job, it's what I do.

It's nice as the
years go on and I get more into it and get a little bit more philosophical
about it. I mean, you are touching people's lives, you're doing something
that's with them forever and it's only the last few years that it's really
occurred to me that these forty-odd thousand people that I've tattooed, there's
a bit of me in them forever.

I take it very,
very seriously. There are not enough people in this business that do. I do my
absolute best, whether it's a little devil on someone's bum or a poetic saying.
I'm tired of doing devils. I've done about ten thousand of them, but I try and
do my absolute best every single time and that's what it's about.

A client walks in
requesting a tattoo of a dragon. I draw up the sketch and show it to him for
his approval.

“That’s wicked,
man. It’s exactly what I wanted,” he said.

“Great. I’m glad
you like it. Where do you want it done?” I asked.

“On my skull,” he
said.

I’m in the middle
of doing a dragoon tattoo on the guy’s skull when Ty walks in about two hours
after I opened shop. Ty is never one to keep silent so it didn’t surprise me
when he immediately hit me for details on my date or should I say my one
nighter.

“Yo, bro. Did you
hit that Saturday?” he asked.

I choked down a
laugh because Ty is always thinking and talking with his dick in mind. I knew
exactly who he was talking about. Saturday night, Ty and I decide to hit up a
club downtown. We went inside and my vision zeroed in on a tall blonde with a set
of forty-four double D’s. They were perfect. I was salivating at the mouth
dying to get a taste and feel for them. Apparently the girl felt the same way
because she eyed me up and sauntered my way. I can’t remember her name for the
life of me, but I do know she was one hell of a good fuck.

“Bro, I don’t kiss
and tell,” I said.

“Ah, come on dude. She
had the biggest rack I’d ever seen. She had the kind of rack that I’d gladly
stick my dick in between and fuck,” he said.

“Ty, I’m with a
customer, please refrain from regaling us with your lewd conversation, comments
or what not’s,” I said.

“Dude, you totally
hit that,” Ty said. My customer laughed at our playful banter. Ty doesn’t get a
chance to say anymore because the bell above my shop's door jingled. I heard
feminine giggling. I was almost done adding the finishing touches on the tattoo
I was working on. I was about to excuse myself to the guy I was working on to
greet the potential clients when Ty said, "I'll take care of them."

I completely lost
track of time and hadn’t realized I’ve been working on his tattoo for over four
hours. It was almost time for the shop to close up.

"Thanks
Ty," I yelled out. I half listened to their conversation.

"Good evening,
ladies. I'm Ty, one of the tattoo artists here. What can I do for you?"

"Hi I'm
Marissa, and this is Rebel. I want to get my belly pierced and a small tattoo
behind my ear," the girl Marissa said.

"Do you know
what kind of tattoo you want?" I tuned out after that, but my ears perked
up when I heard a voice laced with honey talk. It was soft. I'm a visual man. Nothing
makes me happier than gazing at a beautiful woman. The hair. The eyes. Long ass
less. The curvy body with lots of tits and ass, so I was confused as to why the
sound of a sweet sultry voice would grab my attention.

I have to
investigate and see for myself as to whether that voice was the complete
package of a beauty.

"Are you
getting a tattoo?" Ty asked.

"I’m not sure,
but if I changed my mind I will let you know," she said.

Ty ushered Marissa
to one of the booths. I looked up to catch a glimpse of the girl whose voice
sounded like pure honey, but unfortunately she wasn't with them. She must have
stayed in the waiting room. When I finish a tattoo I break the needles off, and
throw them away. I also throw the caps away. I put the needle bars, the grips
and the tips into the ultrasonic for fifteen minutes. I give the guy
instructions on how to care and clean the tattoo. I rationalized that I've been
at work all day and therefore, I am entitled to a break. I own the joint and
could take a break whenever I wanted, but I'm not a slacker. I mean what type
of boss would I be if I passed the buck. I worked right along with my guys. They
respected me for it.

I got up and
stretched my legs. I went back to the storage room to check supplies. When I
walked out Ty saw me and asked me, "Could you turn the radio on?" I
didn't answer I just turned it on. I headed towards the waiting area.

Her...The girl with
the voice. She was the pretty girl from the train. The one I had seen earlier
in the day. She was here in my shop. I inched closer to her. I had to see if
she was as cute as I first thought. She was hunched over a sketch pad. She was
engrossed in whatever she was drawing. I quietly walked over and snuck a peak
at her drawing. She was drawing a long black feather with little birds emerging
from the top, sides and bottom. The birds trailed upwards. They were small
in size, but as they lifted upwards they merged into a much bigger bird with
wings stretched out. Near the left wing she wrote fly high. It was beautiful. She
could really draw.
"I knew I loved you"
by savage garden was
playing on the radio. She looked up and saw me. I looked into her eyes and saw
my life flash before my eyes. Her eyes were mesmerizing. I've never seen eyes
that color. They are a deep purplish blue to violet. Her eyes are luminous and
very beautiful. My eyes slowly traveled down her body. I ached to touch her
just to see her cheeks flush. She has perfect breasts that look to be more than
a handful. Her nipples hardened and jutted out brazenly at me, teasing and
torturing me. I wanted to pinch and suck on them. I wanted to taste her so bad
my mouth watered. I was wrong. She isn't just cute. She is drop dead gorgeous.

"I like your
drawing. You're really good. I'm Wyatt Verity, by the way," I said.

She looked at me,
winked and said, "I'm Rebel, Rebel Walker."

I knew this girl
would mean something to me. I knew this girl was meant to be mine. She has jet
black hair which she had in a ponytail. I would love to see it cascading loose
down her back. Her lips were covered in deep a red guck. I prefer girls to not
wear that shit they call lipstick, but on her I want to see it every day.

"Are you
turning that into a tat?" I asked.

"Turning what
into a tat?" She asked.

"You're
drawing?" I said.

"Um...maybe. I
haven't decided. This is actually a school assignment," she said.