Skin Scribes is packed with people and Alex stops, looking in the front window. “Holy crap.”
“What?”
“It’s never like this. I mean, it’s gotten busy at times, but never with this many people waiting.”
“Your boss should be happy.”
“Martha owns the place with Peggy,” Alex explains. “The artists rent a space to work. I pay rent and give them a cut of all the work they send my way from walk-ins who don’t care who does their tat.”
A few girls were waiting just inside to see Alex. One points and says something to the other that I can’t hear. They are grinning and practically jumping, like fan girls waiting to meet a star. Had the segment catapulted Alex to this?
“I’m used to this when Caleb and Pete are in the house. Not me.”
“Caleb and Pete?”
“They are trying to build a wide enough client base to go out on their own, but the competition is tough in New York, so they’ve been posting videos on their joint website and some of those have gone viral. And, it’s been working because they could work 24/7 and still not stay on top of everyone that wants them to do their tats.”
I just nod. “So, are you going to go in?”
He sighs. “I guess I should.”
I’m not certain what I expected, but it wasn’t the smell of cookies baking when I stepped into the shop. And, fresh coffee too.
I wonder if the grandmotherly woman at the front counter, more of a desk, is responsible. Plump, lined face, kind green eyes. She looks like she should be in a rocking chair knitting, not sitting at a counter in a tattoo parlor.
“Hey, Peggy,” Alex calls over.
“It’s about time you got your ass in here.”
She may look like a grandma fresh from the country, but her tone and language isn’t like any grandmother I’ve encountered.
The phone rings again and she grabs it, answering as pleasant as she can, then puts the caller on hold. “For you!”
“Can you take a number? I’ll call everyone back.”
“Sure thing, sweetheart.”
A minute ago she was barking at him for not getting his ass in there quick enough. Now she’s talking to Alex like he’s a favorite grandson.
She writes a message out then hands it to Alex with a book and a stack of messages.
He just looks down at them. “Are you sure these are all for me?”
“Sure are, babe. You’re the latest eye candy at Skin Scribes.”
I can’t help but burst out laughing as Alex’s face turns red.
“I’m not so sure about that,” he mumbles. “Caleb and Pete have been very careful about protecting that title for themselves.”
“Don’t be so humble. I know you’ve got a mirror.”
His face gets even redder.
“Humble?” I choke out. He may not be as cocky as he once was, but humble?
“She didn’t ask for your opinion,” he says before winking at me. “Let’s go to the back so I can go through these.”
As we pass what I guess is a waiting area, I hear both of our names being whispered and said.
“They are together?”
“Are they dating now?”
“Tat must have worked.”
“That opening wasn’t fake, was it? I thought she hated him.”
I can’t help it and turn back to them. “Not fake. I did loathe him.”
Alex grabs my hand. “But she doesn’t anymore.” Then he drags me through a curtained doorway.
I don’t know what I expected, but not a full kitchen and another grandmotherly woman wearing an apron taking cookies from the oven. Two trays are cooling on the counter, and my mouth waters.
“Alex,” she cries. “I’m so happy for your success, darling.” She comes forward and gives him a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. Then stands back and grabs both of our hands. “You poor kids.” Tears fill her eyes. “My and Peggy’s hearts were just breaking last night for the two of you.”
Mary’s reaction surprised me last night and now this. It’s something I’ve lived with, my loss, and something I kept to myself. The sympathy is unexpected, and welcoming. Maybe I should have opened up earlier or to others. But what happened to Brandy and Brandon is so damn personal.
“Now you two just sit right down and have some cookies and coffee.”
If I hadn’t walked in the front door of Skin Scribes I’d swear I was sitting in some house somewhere.”
“I’ll just take these platters out to the customers and make sure everyone is comfortable while they wait their turn.”
Alex laughs at me staring after Martha.
“Nobody can be sad with a cookie in their hand,” he says.
“Martha owns this place?” I can’t wrap my mind about this grandmotherly woman owning a tattoo parlor, where she bakes cookies.
“Her and Peggy. After their husbands died they came in to get tattoos, but it was closing down. Widows with grown kids, and not must else to do, so they bought the place. Made it bright, homey, and started renting out spots. They supply customers with warm cookies, and fresh delicious coffee while they wait. They are trying to get the space next door to open a cookie and coffee place, where people can just hang out.
“When did they buy this place?”
“About ten years, or so. And they started making money hand over fist as soon as they brightened the place up.” He takes a bite of the cookie. “Or, it could be the cookies.”