River of Glass by Jaden Terrell

Author:Jaden Terrell
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781579624033
Publisher: The Permanent Press
Published: 2014-07-29T16:00:00+00:00

21

Art & Souls tattoo parlor was a well-kept secret, tucked at the edge of an East Nashville residential neighborhood. A neon sign above the door flashed the name, along with a wisp of blue light winding through the outline of a heart. In the front window, photos in thin black frames showcased the artists’ work—detailed renderings of wildlife, landscapes, and mythological creatures blended into custom artwork. Beneath each photo was a strip of white paper with a typed description of the traits symbolized by the tattoo. I found Salazar’s on the second row, the coiled snake looking curiously more alive than when I’d seen it in person. The tag beneath said: Unpredictable. Dangerous when threatened.

Beside it was a picture of a woman’s shoulder and upper arm. A spray of butterflies rose from just above the elbow to the top of the shoulder, then spilled across the shoulder to the neck, back, and collarbone. The tag said: Vibrant and ephemeral.

Inside, it reeked of antiseptic. More photos lined the walls, interspersed with cases filled with piercings. In one corner stood a workstation with a computer and a stack of papers. In another was a thick leather photo book on a podium. A vinyl-covered reclining chair dominated the center of the room, and beside it, on a rolling cart, was a collection of inks, tips, and disposable needles. A pudgy, balding man in a Comic Con T-shirt stood wiping the chair down with a paper towel and some pungent disinfectant in a spray bottle. As we came in, he glanced up, blue eyes looking bulbous behind thick lenses.

“Perfect timing,” he said, smiling. He stared intently, first at me, then at Khanh, as if he were memorizing us. “Which of you is here for the ink?”

“Neither, actually.”

“Too bad.” He glanced at Khanh again and opened a drawer on the cart. Pulled out an orange pencil and a sketch pad. “I know just what I’d do for you.”

A few sweeping gestures, and he exchanged the orange pencil for a blue one. Working swiftly, he laid in outlines, then the broader strokes. Finally, he turned the pad so we could see a partial portrait of Khanh’s right side, beginning at the tip of her stump and ending just below her hairline. He’d drawn in the tattoo, a swirl of flames emerging from the stump and sweeping up toward the elbow, where a beautiful Asian woman with outstretched wings rose out of the flames. Her wings were ablaze, and fire raged around her, the rising flames entwining with a spray of morning glories. The final flower rested at Khanh’s temple, just above the place where her scars ended.

Rough as it was, it was stunning.

Khanh stared at the page, mouth open, as if she couldn’t decide whether to be pleased or offended.

I frowned. “That’s not—”

Ignoring me, he said to Khanh, “You been through the fire, and it made you strong. Or maybe you started strong, and that’s what got you through it. Either way, it tempered you.”

“Very observant.” The brittleness in my voice surprised me.

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