Apprentice - 2. Part 2

The first tattoo machine Kip had ever held had belonged to his uncle. He’d been sixteen, just on the verge of really wanting to understand ink, and Dirk Jeroen had allowed him to the hold the surprisingly heavy machine with its red rubber grips and oxidised brass plate. The first machine he’d used should have been Matti’s, and though Matti had broken an unwritten rule of apprenticing by getting Kip to tattoo him, Kip had broken a far bigger one.

It had been his idea, inspired by watching a dark film about surgery and body modification where a girl had practised sutures on an oven-ready turkey, and it was the only secret Kip had ever kept from his uncle. He’d felt guilty about it, but the idea of one day getting a machine in his hand and dropping it in shock, or screwing up a line on someone’s skin had made the decision easier. In his last year at art school, Kip had poured a big chunk of his savings into a Mickey Bee Copper Sting liner machine and a Sunskin Primus One for shading and colour work. Having hung around in his uncle’s tattoo studio, he knew two machines was a paltry number, but it was at least a start, considering he shouldn’t own any.

Kip had called in at the butchers shop on the way home from the studio, and he was a regular enough customer, that now the butcher kept pig skin trimmings back for him, un-scored and smooth, from joints which didn’t require crackling. The butcher probably thought Kip made pork scratchings with it, but he’d never asked, and Kip didn’t fancy sharing. At home, he laid cling-film out on his work bench, unrolled and smoothed the pig skin and shaved it with a disposable Bic razor. There was a reason Kip was so good at free handing, he couldn’t afford a stencil machine, and so he took a pen and drew out a traditional koi carp with finger waves, and set about outlining it in long smooth motions.

Tattooing was relaxing to Kip. With nothing to focus on but the buzzing of the machine in his hand, the ink, the skin under his fingers, he let his mind go gently blank. Unlike drawing, where he concentrated on every line, every curve, and the minutiae detail of colour fades at the end of his pencil, when Kip was applying ink into skin, he found he didn’t need to actively think at all. As he switched to his shading machine and began to add very non-traditional neon green into the koi carps scales, Kip daydreamed about the tattoo which would one day adorn his skin.

Only once had he been tempted to get a tattoo of his own, and even then it was something he only considered for like, a half a day, before his resolve and promise kicked his brain back into line. Living on opposite sides of the world, he and his uncle had done most of their consultations over the phone or on video chat. Kip had started out with the fact that the tattoo design was supposed to win an award, so he wanted to give Dirk Jeroen free reign, but his uncle had told him some direction was good, and Kip had chosen various aspects of the tattoo, and knew whatever it looked like, it would feature an Egyptian theme, and because it had been designed by his uncle, it would be awesome. Kip wondered if he would miss his blank pale skin one day. Not for the first time, he was quietly grateful his romantic life had stalled recently, and there was no one in his life he was going to need to explain himself to. Kip finished off the tattoo, washed away the remaining ink, and as he began to clear down and clean his station, glanced at the calendar on the wall, counting down the day until Dirk Jeroen would be back in the country and would start his tattoo.

*

It had been a quiet day. Unseasonably hot, everyone for miles around had apparently gone to hit the beach, and the streets around the studio were dead and baking in the heat. Matti let the front door swing closed behind him and stood directly under the air conditioning unit with his hands held out in supplication.

“How’s the weather?” AJ asked, looking up from the drawing table where he was working his way through a few upcoming pieces.

“Hotter than the inside of the sun.” Matti glanced up to where Kip was scrubbing the windowsills and the black painted woodwork at the back of the shop. “Aww Kip, leave it bud. It’s way too hot for manual labour.”

“Not much left,” Kip didn’t take his eyes from his work. Truthfully, he’d have rather been drawing, or watching AJ draw and learning things from the lead artist, but it had needed doing, and Kip didn’t want anyone to think he was shirking his responsibilities just because of the weather. Only Shay had seen a client today, and that was just for a two hour touch up to a sleeve she’d completed weeks before.

“Dedicated.”

Kip glanced quickly over his shoulder, and was in time to see the meaningful look that passed between AJ and Matti.

“Alright you two,” AJ gestured to Kip, and to where Jon stood, lounging and looking bored against the front desk, “get over here.”

Kip finished wiping down the woodwork, stowed the cleaning supplies, and washed his hands. Somehow he still made it over to AJ before Jon did.

“Each of you draw me a rose, traditional style, three minutes. Go.”

It wasn’t anything AJ hadn’t asked them before, but as the big man strode around them scrutinizing every move their pencils made, Kip knew something different was coming. Kip put dotted lines in to guide the level of where the shading would go on a finished tattoo, and lined up all his pencils when he was finished.

“Very clean, very crisp.” AJ patted his shoulder, then took Jon’s drawing, “Jeez boy, you got enough petals in there to make a peony. Alright,” he handed Jon’s image to Kip, and shoved Kip’s drawing at Jon, “go make stencils.” As Jon moved to take his drawing back, AJ shook his head. “Nope. you’re going to tattoo him with his own drawing, Kip’ll do you with yours.” Kip had the momentary satisfaction to see Jon looking disappointed, before reality kicked in. “Go make stencils!”

The stencil machine was one of the things Jon knew how to use but Kip didn’t, but he’d watched Matti plenty of times. He waited for Jon to finish, and then made Jon’s uneven and over-leafy drawing into a blue stencil too.

“Kip, you can go first.”

“No, I should go first,” Jon looked pissed, “I’m the senior apprentice.” He grinned at Kip, and Kip knew if the lanky young man got his way, he was going to cause Kip a lot of pain.

“Alright then, go set up at my station,” AJ didn’t look as happy as he should have been.

“AJ?” Kip liked and respected his boss, but he was also a tiny bit terrified of him. “I can’t.”

AJ frowned, and from across the studio, Matti looked up from watching Jon set up, and he too set his brows low in puzzlement.

“You’ve already tattooed Matti, why can’t you ink Jon too?”

“No it’s not that,” Kip hated how whiny he sounded. “I can’t get a tattoo.”

“You think I’m not good enough for you?” Jon glowered at him. The noise of the air-con was not enough to hide what Kip had said in the quiet shop. “You uppity little prick! Just ‘cause you’re a good drawer and Matti had a stroke and let you ink him, you think you’re special.”

“Shut up Jon,” Matti rumbled.

“He shouldn’t even be going near a machine! Boy thinks he’s God’s gift to tattooing. Fuck you!” This last epithet was directed at Kip. “You’re not some special little snowflake, you pansy ass shit. You should be damn grateful someone at this shop is willing to tattoo you.”

AJ’s hand on his shoulder was hot and firm, and without a word, he left Matti to deal with Jon, and steered Kip outside. Sitting on the steps in the blistering sun, Kip hung his head, expecting to be yelled at. When the words didn’t come, he looked up.

“Sometimes I wonder if that boy has the patience to be a tattoo artist someday,” he sighed, and sat next to Kip. “But we gotta talk about what’s going on with you. I’ve never heard of an apprentice without tattoos, but I took you on ‘cause you seemed nice and fastidious and damn boy, you can draw. You don’t want Jon to do your first tattoo?”

“No,” Kip didn’t need time to think about it. “But that’s not the reason. I can’t get a tattoo from you either; even though I think you’re amazing,” he added quickly, “I’m promised to someone else.”

“What like an arranged marriage?” AJ looked genuinely confused.

“Something like that?” Kip exhaled slowly. “I’m not supposed to tell people really. My skin is sort of reserved, I’m going to be a competition piece.”

“Jesus...” AJ was silent while he thought through everything Kip had said. “So those holiday dates you booked off?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How many hours?”

“Two hundred in all, but the last thirty have to be done at the convention.”

“Bloody hell,” AJ looked impressed. “Look, if you want, I won’t say anything to the guys, but you’ve gotta be prepared for the fact Jon is going to hate you, and probably try to make your life shitty from here on out.”

“Yes boss. Thank you sir.”

“C’mon then,” AJ stood up and offered a giant hand to Kip, “It’s too fucking hot to be outside.”

Inside Jon was still sitting in AJ’s tattooing chair, with black and red inks laid out on the table with shading and liner machines all set up and plastic sleeved, waiting for a living canvas. Jon wore black latex gloves, and drummed his fingers on his knees.

“Has he come down off his high horse then?”

Matti looked like he desperately wanted to smack Jon upside the head.

“Kip, give him the stencil for his design.” Jon looked confused at AJ’s words. “You’ll do it on yourself. Pick a leg.”

“But-?”

“Do as the man says Jon,” Matti said gruffly. “And your placement better be perfect.”

“Well who’s he going to tattoo? Doesn’t he have to do himself?” Jon swiped the stencil he’d made from Kip’s drawing to the floor.

“You let me worry about that,” AJ replied. “Maybe he won’t tattoo today. After all, he hasn’t been here as long as you.”

Kip was almost grateful for the words, even though it sounded a little bit like a slight, and he was about to slink away when Shay, who had been hanging out at the back of the shop, wafted over in her delicate high heels, scooped up his drawing and smiled at him. She might have been a girl, but Shay’s smile was a thousand watt bulb, and Kip realised how she so often got clients who let her do pretty much whatever she wanted.

“He can do me,” her voice dripped with intonation. “C’mon little boy.” Kip could only stare at her blankly as she took his hand, and led him away behind her screen. “You draw very well Kip, and you did a great job with Matti’s stars. I trust you.” Shay flicked her hair in a motion which would have been obvious across the room and giggled. “Get set up.”

Kip laid out the pots and set up the machines. He’d set up the station for Shay enough times to do it almost automatically. When Shay began rolling up her skirt, he blanched.

“You do know I’m gay, don’t you?”

Shay clucked her tongue.

“Of course sweetie, I’m not blind.” Shay glanced through the pierced wood of the screen, “That was all just for the boys. Think how mad-jealous Jon is going to be.”

Kip didn’t bother mentioning he could do without Jon being mad-jealous of him, even more than he already was, but finished laying out the inks, pulled on some gloves, and picked up the stencil transfer lotion.

“Put it right here,” Shay indicated a space on the side of her upper thigh. She had other traditional tattoos, and Kip spent a while staring at her leg from a few angles before he decided exactly where to put it.

He shaved the area, even though there wasn’t a hair in sight, and rubbed the transfer lotion onto Shay’s skin. Touching Shay did nothing for him, and Kip was distinctly happy Matti or AJ hadn’t volunteered, because there was nothing like being scrutinized by your boss with a hard on in your pants. Just as he was dipping the liner into the jet black ink, AJ turned up to watch him. Kip nodded to himself exhaled, and drew out his first line, using the extent of his fingers and pivot of his hand to pull a nice clean curve. He lifted off, dipped the needle in the ink once more, and went back in.

After that, he didn’t need to think, just followed his stencil until the outline was done, transferred to the shader, and began adding black gradients in all the right places. Just like when he practiced, Kip found he didn’t need to think, his brain went awfully quiet and his breathing came automatically with each dip and swipe as the tattoo took shape. As he began to add colour, he became aware, as if through a fog, he was being discussed.

“That’s a damn fine professional job he’s doing there.”

“Slowly,” AJ countered.

“For a second tattoo? Slowly is the least of my concerns. He’s confident, puts the ink in just where it needs to be, no hesitation. And we all know Shay can sit like a superstar, but he’s not hammering her skin either. Seriously AJ, the boy’s got a gift.”

“Well then what are we going to teach him?”

“Everything? He could start tattooing clients tomorrow. Look at him work.”

There was a long pause.

“Doesn’t talk much though, does he?”

Kip’s hand stopped tattooing and laid down the machine, and only then did he realise he’d finished the tattoo. He wiped it down, and checked to make sure his automaton-brain hadn’t missed anything, then cleaned the area up fully and massaged lotion into the skin.

“All done.”

Shay sat up and admired her new tattoo in the long mirror, flashing her naked tanned thigh with a private smile.

“Well ain’t that a beaut? Thanks Kip.” She kissed his cheek, and swished up to the front of the shop to show Matti.

Before Kip could say anything, he looked up, and met Jon’s eyes with more or less a clang. The other man hated him, that much was overwhelmingly obvious. Then AJ stepped in between them as though the air wasn’t made of tension as strong as steel, and sat on the padded bench Shay had just vacated.

“Matti’s right. That was some beautiful work.”

“Thank you, boss.”

“We’re having a guest artist coming in next week. I want you to stick with him and learn everything you can.” AJ stood up, “And when I say ‘stick with him’, I mean it. Set up for him and draw when he asks, but otherwise don’t do any of the stuff you usually do.”

“But-?” Kip frowned.

“Don’t worry about it, it’ll get done.”

Kip smiled proudly as AJ walked away, but he knew Jon was not going to be pleased. There was no way he wasn’t going to take Kip’s new status as anything other than a personal slight, and Kip knew Jon would have to go back to doing a lot of the jobs he hadn’t bothered with once Kip had shown up. It was in every way conceivable, a demotion.

*

“Oom! Uncle!” Kip’s joy gave him wings, and he flew across the driveway at his favourite family member. Dirk Jeroen’s flight hadn’t got in until late, so he’d stayed at a hotel, and hadn’t called Kip until he’d been no more than twenty minutes from his front door. Kip wrapped his arms around his uncle and inhaled his scent and shirt. “I missed you.”

“It’s not been that long little Kip,” his uncle’s lilting voice always made him smile, “but it’s always good to see you again. Are you sure you’ve stopped growing?”

“Uncle...” Kip rolled his eyes at his uncle’s joke. Kip hadn’t got any taller since he left high school, but Dirk Jeroen always liked to tease him, softly and without a hint of nastiness, about his meagre height. Kip was the shortest person in his family, and a lot of the time he hated being short. People thought it meant he was little, weak, in need of protection, but Kip worked hard to make sure he didn’t need defending from anyone.

“So, do you want to see the picture I brought for you?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” For about thirty seconds, the only difference between Kip and an overexcited spaniel was the height and lack of fur.

Kip gaped at the sketch his uncle unrolled on his kitchen table. His uncle always drew beautifully, always, but there was something about knowing the images he was seeing were going to come alive adorning his skin that made shivers of strange pleasure prickle up the back of his skull. If nothing else, Kip was going to be colourful.

The back of the suit showed a reclining figure of a Pharaoh, softly androgynous and otherworldly beautiful with his dark eye liner and strong blue and gold headdress. Just by looking, Kip knew his uncle would render the face in super photo realistic detail, and his skin would become the Pharaohs skin tone too. The flat colours of the gold and blue were starkly contrasting with their thick black outlines, as though the image had some aspect of a stained glass window, as well as a traditional Egyptian frieze. Somehow Dirk Jeroen had managed to render the Pharaoh, his companion scribe-boy and the fronds of the palm fan in a flowing art nouveau style without compromising their incredible beauty. Kip ran his fingers over the images, not quite touching the outlines of bands of hieroglyphs and tiny detailed funeral processions that would run down one of his thighs, then pausing over the beautifully detailed profiles of Anubis and Horus who would decorate his chest above an image of Hathor as the gold cow holding the red disc of the sun between her horns as she stood at the bank of a reed filled river which would flow, along with several crocodiles, down Kip’s other thigh and swirl over his hip.

“We’ll end it here,” his uncle touched Kip’s arm just above the elbow, “And here,” a touch above the knee, “And you’ll be able to wear shorts and proper shirt and no one will know.”

“It’s beautiful,” Kip could barely form the words. He stared again at the Pharaoh, wondering how it was Dirk Jeroen could have imagined so gorgeous a face. Part of his mind wished fervently Dirk had used a real model, and that the boy might magically appear to him. “Thank you.”

“I don’t want it to look like other bodysuits,” Dirk Jeroen explained, “I hate some of those hard lines you get which seem to divide the body.” On the tablet computer, he showed Kip a few pictures of excellent bodysuits, but in a gesture, Kip understood what his uncle meant. A man with a traditional Japanese suit looked almost like he was wearing the pattern as cloth, and the stark contrast where the tattoo ended at the cleft of his rear and under his armpits was jarring. “But the kind of fade I was thinking of is going to be painful.”

“I’mma have to wax...everywhere,” Kip chewed his bottom lip, “Will it help you win?”

“Armpits; yes. No one but you and me will see your crotch – it’s not judged naked.” Dirk gave his nephew a small smile. Kip wondered if it was strange for his uncle to have conversations with him, considering for many years Kip had been a skinny little kid running around in the garden. His uncle had met him when he was only a few months old. Kip’s thought ceased when his uncle spoke again. “Unless of course, there is someone who is going to see you naked?”

“Ome Dirk...” Kip sighed, “No, there is no one.”

“Are we sad about this?” Dirk Jeroen frowned at him.

“Only a little. Don’t worry uncle, I’ll find someone one day.”

“Well, make sure you open your eyes to look. Come now, I need to measure and trace you so we can get all the stencils ready and arranged to start tomorrow. Fifty hours on your back, and I thought we might save one arm and part of your upper chest for the convention?”

“Sounds good. When will we need to work on,” Kip glanced down at his body as he peeled out of his shirt, “the rest of me?”

“When you come to the studio next month. Much more privacy.”

“Where are we going to do the work over here?” Kip looked around his open-plan kitchen and living room. “Not here?”

His uncle cuffed him gently around the back of the head, and ruffled his hair.

“No mijn Neef. We shall be going to my friend Maren’s shop, they have made space for us and we will not need to explain to anyone what we are doing.” Dirk began to lay out the stencils over the table so he could measure them against Kip’s skin. Some would almost certainly need to have their sizes changed. “Now stand still so I can measure you up.”

“Yes Oom.”

Kip smiled to himself, counting the twenty or so individual pieces of his tattoo. He knew he was going to have to learn to be very still and very patient, and very resistant to pain, but Kip knew he wanted his uncle to think him a good canvas far more than he wanted anything else, and as Dirk Jeroen began to draw down his spine with a thick marker, Kip closed his eyes, and simply imagined the soft hum of the tattoo machine.

*

Kip groaned as he woke, rolled over, then sat bolt upright with a strangled yelp of pain. His back was hot, he was stiff, he ached everywhere, and despite having slept for nearly twelve hours, he was already exhausted. On the other hand, he hadn’t been to work in a week, and Kip knew his days of lying around on his front, head pillowed on his arms, was over. He got up stiffly and went to have a very tender shower.

Dirk had been very pleased with how well he’d sat, and one of the other artists at the shop had commented that Kip had been steady as an actual canvas under a brush as he’d been worked on. All of them had been surprised, including Kip himself, of how well he’d coped with the pain, considering he’d never been tattooed before. But that had been then, and now the pain made Kip want to take a lot of meds, and go lay back down in a dark room. Instead, he rubbed cocoa butter across his entire back – Dirk Jeroen had left him with an enormous supply to soothe and heal his ink filled wounds – and pulled on a soft plaid shirt, wincing with every movement. By the time Kip, along with his art supplies, and seven sheets of technically exacting flash drawings to make up for his time away, got to the studio, he was able to move and walk as though he hadn’t spent fifty hours over the last week having his skin pummelled.

“Hey Kip!” Matti’s smile was well worth getting up for. “God it’s good to see you back kiddo. You have a nice week off?”

“Yes thanks,” Kip hated to lie to the man he was coming to think of as his friend, “what about you?” Kip saw the bandage around Matti’s arm where the stars he had tattooed had been. “You got new ink!”

“Yeah, I went to go see my buddy Chris one evening. Funny thing really, I was sure I saw you leaving the shop with some tall heavily tattooed dude.”

Kip’s mind swam with worry. He hadn’t known anyone at Maren’s shop had been overly friendly with the artists he worked for. But then, he also hadn’t mentioned to anyone there what he did, or wanted to do for a living, and at no point had anyone asked his name. Dirk had been promised privacy, and they had been set up with a few screens near the back of the shop and left to get on with things themselves.

“Never mind, eh? What you do with your own time is your business.” Matti smiled easily, and Kip knew the man wouldn’t press him for information. “You remember how to set me up? Big sleeve piece to work on today.”

By the time he finished speaking, Kip was already wiping down the work space. Somehow he doubted in his week ‘off’ that Jon had deigned to clean anything very well.

The day started out as it normally did, and by the time all the artists were in, Kip had set everyone up, re-filled the gloves at each station, written up a supplies list to be ordered, sorted out the mess left on top of the light box, replaced the toner in the printer, and was washing the front windows when Jon arrived and slapped him on the back.

“Ah!” Kip stepped away from him quickly, his skin throbbing in pain at the contact. He glared at Jon, because it was easier to control his reaction by not talking at all.

“And I was gonna say it was nice to have you back,” Jon sneered at him, “at least there’s someone else around to do all the grunt work now, and I can get back to my art.”

Jon stepped away from him, and Kip exhaled softly. He couldn’t have said exactly what made him vocalise the thought, when he’d kept his mouth shut so many times before, but he was sick of Jon, and it rankled that the other man still thought he was somehow superior to Kip, even though AJ had made it painstakingly obvious it was not so.

“You need it.”

Jon froze in the act of turning away.

“What did you say to me?”

“Nothing.” Kip could have kicked himself, but returned to washing the windows. The next moment, Jon was at his side, his fingers gripping Kip’s shoulder and squeezing hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. He couldn’t have known quite how much pain he was inflicting, but his voice was too close to Kip’s skin, and the boy recoiled from him.

“You little shit. I’ll make your every moment here a waking nightmare if you cross me again. Fuck off.”

Kip had never been so grateful for the door to open and admit a pair of very pretty young women. It was enough of a distraction, and he tore himself away from Jon, left his window cleaning supplies, and went to hide himself way at the back of the shop while Jon joined Matti and AJ at the desk, chatting to the girls, flirting harmlessly.

Shay arched a perfect eyebrow at him.

“Don’t let him get under your skin Kip.”

“Huh?”

“That young man has a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas, and AJ ain’t managed to cure him of it yet. Don’t let him get to you. You’re better than that.” She smiled warmly, “I have a really cool guy coming in later for a full colour piece with lots of flowers. I’ll let you sit in, and if you’re real lucky and sweet, I’ll even let you do a bit of shading.”

“Won’t AJ be pissed?”

“Nope, he told us yesterday we could have you guys help out whenever we wanted. You just can’t do tattoos by yourself without his direct say so.”

“Really?” Kip could hardly believe his ears. “That’s awesome.”

“Yeah it is. Now come sit with me, and I’ll talk you through my machines a bit and you can practice installing needles.”

Kip grinned excitedly. It was enough to make him forget, until he went to scratch an itch, about how much pain he was in, or the vicious tone in Jon’s voice, because he sat at Shay’s elbow, listened to every word she said, and got to shade a calla lily in his first ever commercial tattoo. Afterwards, Shay kissed his cheek and sauntered away. Kip didn’t need to strain his ears to listen to her singing his praises.

*

“OK, where do you want me?” Kip asked the question with some trepidation.

His uncle had shut the shop to walk ins, left his other two artists and the studio manager downstairs with strict instructions no one was to come upstairs no matter what, and shut the door. There were several screens in the way, so even accidents could be avoided, but Kip was still nervous about what was to come. He finished folding his clothes and gave thanks Dirk Jaroen had turned up the heating in his studio.

“Just lay down and get comfy mijn ventje and don’t worry.” His uncle sounded normal, as though he wasn’t looking at his nephew butt naked in his tattoo studio. “You’ve been taking good care of yourself. Your back is healing nicely.”

“Thanks uncle.”

“Don’t worry. Today we will do the embaressing bit, and then tomorrow you can have clothes again. Just not many.”

“Haha.” Kip pillowed his head on his arms, and tried not to think too closely about the sensations his body was sending him.

Getting ready for the trip had been a different sort of fun than he was used to. Kip had always imagined if he ever went in for the getting everything waxed, it would have been so someone special could benefit from it. Having spent fifty hours with his uncle shredding his skin to apply ink, and sitting on the side of the bath apply hot wax onto some very sensative areas of his body, Kip knew exactly which sensation he preffered. Dirk drew lines on his lower back, measuring the distance between the completed part of the tattoo and the area he was about to work on, just to be sure the images would fit, then began to apply stencils to Kip’s ass. The smoothing of the stencil over his flesh wasn’t nearly as interesting as being drawn on in marker, and Kip hoped his uncle would never know about the reaction Kip’s body was having, completely independant of his brain.

“So, tell me little Kip. What has happened in your life since I last came to the States?”

“Nothing much. Just work and applying vast quantities of cocoa butter to my skin. I swear we’re keeping that company in business.”

“We should buy shares,” his uncle quipped.

“Dad said the same thing when I told him,” Kip grinned. “I didn’t show them the tattoo though. I know it has to be a surprise.”

“Come on Kip, I know you have things to tell me. I know I saw a fat portfolio in all that stuff you brought. How is your apprenticeship going?”

Kip sighed with a smile. His uncle was getting his machines ready, and soon, Kip was going to be in pain in some very private places. It would be better to keep his mind off the inevitable.

“Really really good Oom.”

Things at the studio had gone from strength to strength after he’d helped Shay out on her floral tattoo. He still set up for the guys, often before he was even asked, but Matti had got him to do some outlining on a new school skull the following day, and then taken Kip to do a spot of people sketching on main street, leaving Jon to clear up after them. He’d polished all the brass in the shop, the door hinges, letterbox, the studs in the mirror frames, and his reward had been to sketch a bunch of steampunk bits which AJ had cut out and collaged into a finished compostion to use on the client. Kip had watched in silent wonder as the master had inked his design into someone’s skin as though he did it all the time.

His drawings were getting better too, and Kip found himself branching out into other styles and subjects. He spent an evening in a parking lot popular with gear-heads, sketching cars and bikes, getting down whatever details he could as they went flashing past. The following day he’d turned in a whole flash sheet of logos, each rendered in three beautiful dimensions, and AJ had ruffled his hair and smiled. He helped both Shay and Matti on other tattoos, doing line work and shading, and tried to ignore Jon.

Jon was about the only thing in his life which grated. Jon with his sneers and snide remarks, glaring at Kip whenever one of the artists asked him to do something cool, muttering under his breath whenever the artists were far enough away not to notice. And Kip was sure, somehow, that Jon suspected him of something. He was always trying to grab his clothes, or slap him on the back, tried once to pull up his shirt – trying to make a point about tattoo placement on ribs apparently – and Kip was becoming increasingly wary of turning his back on the other apprentice. He’d never been big on being touched by people, but he hadn’t minded Dirk Jeroen’s hands smoothing and wiping his intimate skin, following the hot prickling pain left by the many needles of the shading machine.

“You’re not going to want to sit down for a while.” Dirk leant back on his elbows as Kip finished settling his sweats over his hips. He’d been told in a tone which brooked no argument, that jeans would not be a good idea having been worked over so thoroughly. “You’re not going to look?”

“I don’t need to,” Kip grinned, “I know it’ll be awesome. Is it terrible to want a surprise?”

“No mijn Neef. By the end of this week, we’ll have finished your whole back and hips. It’s exciting no?”

“Nearly half way through...” Kip sighed wistfully, then ran his hand down his still blank chest. He bit his lip, thinking of the beautiful colours and patterns which would, soon, adorn his skin forever.

“Will you miss it?” Dirk Jeroen packed his machines away in his station and began to wipe down the bench Kip had lain on. Kip went to help, it was automatic, but his uncle brushed him away.

“I don’t know.” Kip looked down at his body. “It’s not like anything very interesting has ever happened to it.”

Kip glanced in the mirror at his uncle’s expression, and gave him a small smile.

“Yes, yes; I know. I need to go out and find happiness.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to – dad’s the same. I think you’re convinced all I ever do is sit alone in my apartment drawing by myself.”

“And what have you been doing with your evenings lately?” Dirk arched an eyebrow.

“Sitting alone in my apartment drawing,” Kip admitted. “Don’t look at me like that… I want to be a good tattoo artist. It’s hard to concentrate on other stuff right now.”

“You cannot live just for work little Kip. Promise me after dinner you will go out into the city and have fun?”

“Oom Dirk...” Kip pleaded. “You know my Dutch sucks.”

“And yet, I’m sure you’ve told me before that flirting is all about body language...”

Kip gaped at his uncle. He shouldn’t have been surprised; his father had always maintained their European family had no boundaries at all.

*

“Sorry,” Kip tried to duck out of the way of the young man who was coming backwards out of the door as he’d tried to go in.

“Excuseer mij, sorry, sorry,” the other guy sounded flustered, like he was in a hurry, and then he turned to face Kip. His smile was broad and instantaneous. “Hallo, hebben we eerder ontmoet?”

Kip understood what he’d said, roughly, but he couldn’t bring himself to form an answer, because he was still staring, rather rudely, at the young man with a beautiful smile and shining eyes. He hadn’t missed in the three seconds they’d been in the same place that the Dutch man had a fully tattooed Polynesian tribal sleeve, a shirt tight enough to show off all his muscles, and the sort of effortless looking hair with a thick ruffled fringe Kip wished he could pull off.

“Hi...” Kip could have kicked himself, it was such a poor opening line.

“American?” The Dutch boy made it sound like an exotic title.

“Yes. Texan.”

He laughed, and laid a hand on Kip’s shoulder.

“You don’t look much like a cowboy?” his new friend’s smile became warmer. “Can I buy you a drink somewhere, American?”

“Yes.” Kip knew his uncle would be proud of him. He took a step back towards the bar, but his new friend stopped him.

“Maybe not here.”

“Did you just get thrown out?” Kip queried with a grin.

“Kinda.” The Dutch boy said something fast and complicated in his native tongue. “Never mind. I know a better place.”

Kip fell into step beside his new friend easily enough. The Dutch boy was taller than him, which wasn’t unusual, but Kip was surprised to find his own shoulders were a touch broader, and he grinned to himself because the other young man hadn’t yet let go of him.

“So Texan-American, you got a name?”

“Kip. You?”

“Niels. So what are you doing in the Alkmaar?”

“Visiting family. My uncle lives here.” Kip glanced at Niels as the Dutch boy held the door of the bar open for him. “He’s a tattoo artist.”

“Oh yeah?” Niels looked him over, but Kip knew no one could tell what he had on under his clothes. “I like a bit of ink myself.”

“No kidding?” Kip felt brave, so he reached out and ran a finger along one spur of Niels’s inked sleeve. “That’s lovely. Was it done here?”

“Ja. The Alkmaar Tattoo Centre.” Kip gaped at him. “Gaat alles goed?”

“That’s my uncle’s shop.” He pulled his attention away as the barman asked him what he wanted. “Wat hij heeft, bedankt.”

“Twee bier aub,” Niels didn’t even look at the man who served them, just remained staring at Kip. “Your uncle is Dirk Jeroen Meijer? He’s verbazend! The best!”

“Thanks, I’ll tell him you said so.”

“I would love to be tattooed by him.” Niels sounded wistful as he took their beers, handed one to Kip, and lead him away from the bar. “My sleeve was done by Amica Jenn, and she’s great. But Dirk Jeroen Meijer… do you know if he’s entering any competitioins this year?”

“Yes.” Kip wished, for the first time, he was able to spill all his secrets. There wasn’t going to be anyone to gush over his bodysuit design with him for months to come. Even though he liked and respected AJ, Matti, and Shay, Kip hadn’t felt a rush to talk like he did then, not in many many months. “International Tattoo Bodysuit Competition is being held at the Star of Texas Tattoo Convention in Austin in the fall.”

“That’s where you’re from?”

“Ja.”

“So it’s gonna be awesome having your Oom there in your hometown, and you get to see his competition work! Has he shown you already?”

Kip didn’t say anything, because he didn’t want to lie outright to Niels, but he couldn’t tell him the truth either.

"He has! Geluksvogel! Tell me everything!”

“Het is een geheim! You know I can’t.” Kip rolled his eyes, but grinned as he sipped his beer. “It’s really beautiful.” He paused, wondering if he could have gotten extremely lucky in running into Niels. “Maybe you’ll have to come over to the convention to see.”

“Will you be there?”

“Ja.”

“Sounds good.” Niels was standing very close to him, and Kip shivered, even though he was warm. “I might just do that.” The clink of glasses and scrape of chairs broke the warm, intimate moment between them, and Kip stepped back, blinking. “Come sit with me Kip? I don’t know anything about you. How long are you here for?”

“A week. But I’ll be back at the end of next month for a fortnight.” Kip smiled, and let Niels pull him down.

Kip knew lots of things were painful, but just then he understood why his aunt had let him eat dinner standing up. Sitting on a fresh tattoo hurt like hell, but Niels’s smile made it all worthwhile.

*

“So how was visiting your family?” Shay looked up from her tattoo supply catalogue at Kip.

“It was awesome, thanks.” Kip finished wiping down the last of Shay’s ink bottles, then began to line them up in colour and shade order. “The food over there is always amazing, and it’s nice to walk along the canals in the evening. Something about all the water makes the light look really cool.”

“Show me.” Shay demanded. Kip stared at her, his brain firing six empty cylinders, trying to twist what she’d said until it made sense. There was no way she could know why he’d really gone over there, Kip had been so incredibly careful. “C’mon, we all know you don’t go anywhere without a sketchbook. I’m assuming you drew while you were there?”

“Oh, yeah.” Kip smiled, mostly to himself, and found his gaze sliding out of focus as he remembered Niels’s smile in his inner vision.

“Let’s see,” Shay waited for him to respond, then simply wheeled her work chair over to the main desk, and fliched Kip’s sketchbook from the top of his bag. She began flicking through the pages with her long slim fingers before Kip could even react. “Ohhh… sometimes I forget you went to art school. Mmm, I love these colours. Matti, AJ, look what Kip’s been up to.”

Kip knew he’d lost posession of his art. He didn’t mind, during his years of art school he’d grown used to people looking at and taking over his work. In the early weeks, they’d been encouraged to explain all they’d done, but Kip had always found it better to sit back and let his work speak for itself.

“Your drawings are beautiful.” Niels had glanced up at him with sparkling eyes. “How come you didn’t say you were a tattoo artist?”

“I’m not,” Kip had blushed, knowing it wasn’t nearly dark enough in the club to cover his reaction. “I’m only an apprentice.”

“But you’ll be tattooing soon,” Niels hadn’t asked a question, “You’re too good not to Kip.”

“Bedankt,” Kip smiled at his new friend.

Niels had turned a page in the sketchbook and used the movement to bridge the gap between them and take Kip’s hand. Neither of them had said anything, but after a moment Niels began to draw tiny circles with the pad of one thumb in Kip’s palm, and Kip had felt his cheeks colour quickly.

“Who’s the boy?” Matti glanced up from Kip’s sketchbook with a sly sort of grin. “You been holding out on us Kip? There’s someone special in your life you’ve never mentioned before?”

“No.”

“He’s gotta be someone. That’s a damn good portrait.”

Kip wondered what Niels would have said if he’d heard the conversation. He had only known the Dutch boy for a week, but they had spent part of every day together, and Niels had called him twice, and they’d emailed back and forth, in the four days since Kip had come home. To say he wasn’t anyone special would be lying, and Kip hated to lie; he wasn’t any good at it.

“Niels. We have a lot in common.”

“Ohh, present tense,” Matti’s tone gave away how much he was enjoying his line of gentle teasing, “so will we be seeing this Niels anytime soon?”

“He lives in Alkmaar,” Kip chewed his bottom lip, “but maybe.”

He’d enjoyed drawing Niels, and the young man had sat for his portrait without complaint, perched on the low balustrade over the canal, looking all soft and hard in the golden evening light of their second date. Kip knew he’d enhanced Niels’s strong shoulders with the graphic bold line he’d used, but he’d tried to keep his face just as it had been, his lips brought up into a little half smile. Kip had spent the whole time he was drawing wondering what Niels’s lips had felt like. He hadn’t had to wait long.

“Helemaal klaar? How do I look?”

“Wonderful,” Kip had spoken before he’d thought through the implications, but Niels’s smile had been broad and full of promise.

“Can I see?”

Kip handed over the sketchbook wordlessly, and stared at Niels as though he’d not spent half an hour doing just that. When Niels had asked to see him again, Kip had felt his heart shudder with desire, and agreed instantly. Even lying on his side in the studio all day, it had been easy to forget about the pain, and difficult not to think of things which would cause him to have an embaressing reaction in front of his uncle. When Kip had shown up, trying not to limp, Niels had smiled like the sun shone out of his side, and asked him what he had in the bag.

“Art stuff.”

“You been drawing?”

“Ja.” Kip had fingered the edge of his sketchbook, and felt suddenly bold. “Can I draw you?”

Niels’s blush had told Kip everything he’d hoped was true. Now Niels took his hand again, and Kip found himself sat on the low wall next to his friend, their bent knees touching, the sketch lying between them, and Kip couldn’t think of a single thing other than how awesome it would be to kiss him.

Niels obviously had the same thought.

Niels had leaned in, hand resting on Kip’s knee, and kissed him. Kip’s world had become small, and he’d forgotten the lingering pain of his new tattoo, forgotten about the sunset, the breeze and the scent of the canal, and the people passing them by. Forgotten everything in fact, but the sensation of Niels’s lips on his, and the look in the Dutch man’s eyes as he’d drawn back with a smile. Kip had leaned in after him without a conscious thought.

“Je bent mooi... Does anyone ever tell you that? That you’re beautiful?”

“No.”

“You are.”

“Oh.”

“I want to kiss you again.” Niels practically purred as he said it, and Kip felt his body shiver. “Please.”

Kip had closed the space between them, his lips inches away from Niels, and watched the Dutch boy blush in a very attractive manner. A small and reasonably sensible part of his brain had tried to tell him there couldn’t possibly be anything to gain by allowing his heart to get pummelled when it inevitably wouldn’t work out over time and distance. It didn’t win.

“Ja.”

“We’d better not lose you over there permanently,” AJ nodded at the sketches, and handed the book back to Kip. “I’m going to need you to help out at the shop.”

Kip frowned at his boss. Something in AJ’s tone made him wonder, because it hadn’t sounded like he was talking about cleaning down and setting up.

“AJ?” Kip glanced over at Matti, and the blue haired man was grinning broadly.

“You can start doing walk ins. One of us has got to sign off on your artwork though.”

“Yes sir, thank you!” Kip beamed, unable to control his smile. “Thank you!”

“You know this means you’re going to have to buy some kit?” Shay rubbed his shoulder softly, “C’mon Kip, I’ll help you pick out some supplies.”

“No fuckin’ way.”

Kip turned, hoping his ears had somehow lied to him, and Jon wasn’t standing directly behind him, fuming visibly.

“You cannot let him start tattooing actual clients before me! That’s so unfair. He’s only been here six months!”

“And yet he can draw so much better than you,” Matti rumbled.

“You’ll get your chance Jon. Knuckle down and work hard, you’ll get there.”

Jon fixed his anger on Kip, and for a moment Kip was terrified Jon would try and beat him into a pulp.

“He is my subordinate! How can I sit back and let him take my place?” he wailed.

“Enough!” AJ’s voice was level and low, but he still snapped. “You are both apprentices of this shop. Neither is lower than the other. I don’t want to hear another word about it.” He turned to Jon, a dark anger in his eyes Kip knew he never wanted to have directed at him. “Is that clear?”

Jon grumbled something indistinct, but nodded.

Kip spent the rest of his morning looking over different inks, machines, and storage equipment with Shay, feeling a little bit guilty he wasn’t going to need to take her advice just yet, but making notes on future machines he wanted to buy. No self-respecting artist would have anything less than six after all. About lunch time, Kip was busy setting up Matti’s station whilst Matti made his stencil and prepared his client, and Jon was supposed to be picking up the lunch. The other apprentice passed by Kip far too closely, and snarled at him before he stalked off.

“Fuckin’ brown-nosed homo.”

Kip let the comment slide, and didn’t mention anything to the artists when Jon came back without any lunch for him.