Always Emilie by Alyson Root EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Alyson Root
- Language: English
- Genre: Contemporary Literature & Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
“Holymotherfuckingshitballs,” Charlie growled through gritted teeth.
Her arm was on fire. Hours of having her skin scraped by the mechanical
needle were taking its toll on her pain threshold.
“I’m adding another tenner to your bill for that one.” Max laughed
as he sprayed her arm with water before wiping the excess ink off with
some kitchen roll.
“Ten quid, are you taking the piss?”
“Eleven now. You really need to get a grip on your swearing, lady.”
Charlie had a few more choice words she wanted to throw at him at
that moment, but the pain on her arm stopped her from unloading.
“There, done, all finished.” Max rolled his chair back, tilting his
head as he looked at his work.
Charlie let out a breath she’d been holding. Why did she do this to
herself? She knew why. She’d wanted tattoos since she was a kid. It had
taken her until her thirtieth birthday before she’d summoned the courage to
get her first one.
“Take a look,” Max urged.
This was Charlie’s favourite part. Gripping the arm of the chair, she
hoisted herself up. Her legs were dead from sitting for so long. Her arse was
tingling with pins and needles.
The tattoo studio was small. It only had enough space for two tattoo
artists, a piercing station and a small reception area. Across from the
piercing station was a floor-to-ceiling mirror. Making her way across the
room Charlie let her gaze wander over her new ink. Tears welled in her
eyes. Max had captured her vision perfectly.
“So, what d’ya think?” He knew what she thought. His wide smile
said it all.
“Max, you nailed it.”
“Yeah, I did.” He laughed as he began breaking down his station.
“You know the procedure by now, so I won’t go over it again. Look after
those beauties. I worked hard on them.”
Max really was a master artist. He was unlike any tattooist Charlie
had ever met, though. His skin was completely devoid of any ink. Max was
a haemophiliac. His blood’s inability to clot prevented him from getting
tattoos. Well, it was strongly discouraged by medical professionals, and
Max had heeded those warnings. Thankfully, his husband Ben was more
than happy to let Max use his body as a canvas for all the tattoos that Max
wanted but couldn’t have.
Max also ran his tattoo studio like a high end boutique. Gentle
music played from the stereo system. The space was immaculate—as a
tattoo studio should be.
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