back?”
This shocked Walsh; the girl didn’t look like the tattoo type.
“I could pay you double if you do it,” she said as if sensing his hesitation.
“This tats not for sale,” he said flatly. He did not elaborate. He did not tell her that he had already tried on several occasions to ink it and failed. It was if The Blue Woman somehow wouldn’t allow it.
“What about something like this then?” she said, and handed Walsh a sketch that she clutched in her hand.
Walsh unfolded the paper and found cascading thorns and thickets and vines.
“Can you do it?” she asked with a hint of strain in her voice.
He inspected the design. “No color, soft lines. Sure, I can do it. No problem.” Walsh fished his key from his pocket and unlocked the front door of his shop. “Come on in and we’ll set you an appointment.”
The girl stood fixed on her spot. “Triple if you do it right now,” she said.
“It’s 1:00AM. My shop’s closed, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart,” she warned.
“Sorry, you didn’t tell me your name. Usually when a woman offers me money, I at least know her name.”
“My name is Bridget,” she said, “and I’ll pay three times your normal rate if you do this tattoo for me right now.”
Walsh never sweated over a customer walking out of his shop before. This one–he didn’t want to let her go. He could tell that this girl wasn’t messing around. She could quickly walk away and find another artist to do it for her at this time of night, no problem. He thought of Bob Grim and how he probably went straight to his tattoo shop across town instead of heading home to Gina. Walsh didn’t want to give Grim the chance to snake yet another woman away. He quickly surveyed his right hand, deciding the fifth of Jack would have to wait a little while longer.
“All right, Bridget,” he said. “Let’s talk more inside.”
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