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    Atlas: Eye Candy Ink, #1
    Atlas: Eye Candy Ink, #1
    Atlas: Eye Candy Ink, #1
    Ebook156 pages2 hours

    Atlas: Eye Candy Ink, #1

    By Shaw Hart

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    About this ebook

    She's a beautiful disaster and he can't walk away.

    Atlas Warner is a god. With a needle in his hand, there's nothing he can't do. Except find pizza… and maybe love. The two things his life is currently lacking.

    He's everything she ever deserved in life, but she refuses to see it.

    With the body of a goddess, curves for days, and absolutely no sense of adventure, Darcy Rose doesn't have time for anything but work. Until Atlas barges into her life and refuses to let her fade into the background.

    Together, they could have everything, if life doesn't tear them apart.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherShaw Hart
    Release dateMay 27, 2023
    ISBN9798215556764
    Atlas: Eye Candy Ink, #1

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      Book preview

      Atlas - Shaw Hart

      ONE

      Atlas

      My back aches, the muscles tight and stiff from hours spent hunched over in uncomfortable positions. I roll my shoulders, trying to relieve some of the tension as I lean over Paul, my current client’s calf, finishing the last of the shading on his new tattoo. His tattoo is a black pirate ship, the skull and crossbones flag flapping in the wind as it sinks into the sea. The design of the tattoo is simple enough, but what really makes it stand out is the coloring. The ocean is a watercolor design, done in cool shades of blue as it swallows up the sinking ship. 

      I let out the breath that I didn’t realize I was holding as I grab the rag off my desk behind me and wipe away the excess ink, double-checking each line to make sure that every detail is perfect. I sit back in my chair, stretching my arms and back as I study it. When I’m satisfied that it’s perfect, I grab the water bottle and some paper towels and clean off his calf so that he can get a clear view of his new ink. 

      Shit, Atlas! You outdid yourself this time, man. That shit is sick, bro, Paul says. 

      I smile at him as I reach for my ointment and bandages. It’s late, closing time, and I just want to dress and wrap his new ink and get him out the door so that I can head home and crash. Paul thanks me again as I snap off my latex gloves and hand him the aftercare instructions and walk him up front so that he can pay with Sam. I shake his hand and tell him to call me if there are any problems before I nod at Sam and head back to my room to clean up. She flips me off as I turn to leave, and I shake my head and try to hide my smile but I’m sure that she still saw. 

      Sam and I started at Eye Candy Ink about the same time. I had just finished my apprenticeship and was looking for a job, and she had just finished school. We ended up interviewing with Zeke, the owner of Eye Candy Ink, on the same day and we both got hired; Sam for the front counter and piercings and me as a tattoo artist. We both were right out of school and we’re lucky that Zeke took a chance on us but we’ve proven our talent over the last two years and both of our careers hav​​e taken off. Moving to Pittsburgh for this job turned out to be the best thing to happen to me. 

      Sam was my first friend at the shop and in the city. We were both new to Pittsburgh, so we had bonded over exploring the city and finding our footing at Eye Candy Ink together. Luckily, everyone else who works at the shop was friendly too and we all clicked. I’m the youngest in the shop at twenty-four. Then there’s Sam, Mischa, Nico, and the owner, Zeke.

      Sam is like my older sister. She’s a bit of a hardass, a true tomboy with a tough shell that’s almost impossible to crack. She’s slim and small, barely five-foot-three with silver eyes and a quarter sleeve on her right arm and several smaller ones on her back and hands. Her nose is pierced, and I’m sure she’s got other things pierced, but I’ll never ask. She dresses casually. In all of the time that I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her in anything other than jeans and T-shirts. She’s not one of those girls who use fashion or her clothes as an art form. Instead, she uses her hair for that. She dyes it a different color every other week, matching it to her steadily growing collection of Converse sneakers. Right now, it’s a bright neon purple and I know without looking that she has a pair of lilac high-top Converse on.

      If Sam is the serious, tough girl, then Mischa is the exact opposite. He’s a jokester, always wearing a smile and giving people shit or cracking jokes. He’s got a similar coloring to me with dark hair, blue eyes, and pale skin, probably from spending most of our time inside at the shop. While my eyes are a pale icy blue, though, his are dark blue, almost black with a golden circle around the pupil. He’s the same height as me, six-foot-three, with a similar thin, lanky build. He’s got his nipples and lip pierced and is covered in tattoos, from his neck down to his toes. They’re all black or gray and make him look even paler, but I have to admit, they’re all well done and they do what he wants them to do, which is to hide his scars and keep most people away from him.

      A lot of people are nervous when they see him walking down the street, but the truth is, Mischa wouldn’t hurt a fly. He might not like to admit it, but he’s a good guy. On the outside, he’s a happy-go-lucky, laid-back guy who doesn’t take life or anything too seriously, but as his roommate, I see more than everyone else. He’s got a serious side and some stuff in his past that he doesn’t like to talk about. I haven’t pressed him for information but I can tell that whatever it is that happened, it still weighs on him.

      He was the second person I met when I started working here, and he’s a charismatic goofball that everyone loves, so we became fast friends. I had only just moved to Pittsburgh when I got this job and was looking for a roommate. Luckily for me, so was Mischa, and we’ve lived together for the past two years. He’s a little messy and has a tendency to borrow my shirts when he forgets to do laundry, but he pays the rent on time and leaves me leftovers whenever he cooks.

      Next, there’s Nico. He’s the big introvert in the shop. A giant at six-foot-eight and built like a linebacker with tattoos covering his neck and torso. I had been a little afraid of him when I first started, but it didn’t take long to see that while he might look scary, with his almost permanent frown, tattoos, and size, he was actually a really gentle giant. A teddy bear, Sam calls him. With shaggy, chocolate brown hair and hazel eyes, he even kind of looks like a bear. He’s been at Eye Candy Ink for close to a decade and he trained under Zeke. He’s a good dude, super talented, but quiet and shy. In the two years that I’ve been at Eye Candy Ink, I think I’ve heard him say maybe a hundred words. He sticks to himself mostly, always doodling and drawing in one of his pads or listening to music. It was hard to get to know him since he rarely speaks but once he did, I realized that he’s smart, sees far more than most people realize and he’s loyal to a fault. He’s also a kick-ass tattoo artist.

      Last is Zeke, the owner of Eye Candy Ink, my boss, and a total artistic genius. At thirty-six, he’s like the cool older brother that I never had and everyone in the shop’s hero. He’s six-foot-four and has light coloring and I swear he could pass for a Viking if he wanted to. Sam even tried to convince him to dress up as one last Halloween but he had refused. With wavy, chin-length, pale blonde hair and bright blue eyes, he reminds me of Ragnar Lothbrok from that Vikings TV show.

      Dude is a legend. He’s been doing tattoos since he bought his first tattoo gun from some sleazy pawn shop. He was fourteen at the time, and he taught himself how to tattoo, inking his friends or drunk people at parties. When he was eighteen, he started at some shitty tattoo parlor in Las Vegas. He bounced around Vegas and California for a couple of years before he moved to Pittsburgh when he turned twenty-six and decided to open his own place.

      Eye Candy Ink opened its doors three months later. He built it from the ground up, hiring the best artists, and building the brand until it became well known for miles. Now it’s the best tattoo shop in Pennsylvania, maybe even all of the East Coast. Zeke used to travel around tattooing celebrities and shit, but he’s stopped doing that so much in the last six months. He’s been sending Nico more often, and occasionally, Mischa or I have to go. None of us really like traveling like that though and I know that Zeke has turned some jobs down so that he doesn’t have to ask us to go. Besides, we stay busy enough here that we don’t really need to travel, especially now that Zeke’s been cutting down the number of tattoos he does. He’s been taking fewer and fewer clients for the last year or so and now he mainly just does the business side of things here. He’ll still do tattoos for a select few clients but those are few and far between. 

      Zeke can do pretty much any tattoo style, but the rest of us tend to specialize in only one or two. Nico is a master at Japanese and tribal tattoos, basically any black work style. Mischa specializes in realistic and neo-traditional style, and I specialize in watercolor and new school. Sam can pierce anything and when she’s not here, Nico fills in for her. 

      Over the last two years, these guys have become family. Well, like the family that I wish I had. My actual family is still back in Philadelphia and I get to see them a couple of times a year, usually for Christmas and someone’s birthday. My parents are both lawyers and they always claim that they are too busy to bother calling me or making the trip. That’s the excuse that I’ve heard all of my life. They missed my peewee soccer games because they had to work, they missed dinners and an art show that I did at school because of work. The job has always come first for them and I used to wonder why they even had me since they never seemed interested in spending time with me or really getting to know me.

      I may look like my parents, with my dark midnight black hair and pale blue eyes, but that’s where the similarities end. My mom and dad are more buttoned-up and I know that they don’t understand my career or why I have so many tattoos and piercings. They were shocked when I came home with my first tattoo and pissed off when I had started gaging my ears. I had opted out of telling them about the nipple and cock piercings. Didn’t want to give them a heart attack or anything. I thought that they were going to blow a gasket when I came home and told them that I had gotten an apprenticeship and was going to study to become a tattoo artist. I was eighteen by that time though and they couldn’t do anything about it.

      I had always loved to draw, and I think that they were hoping that I would be a graphic designer or something. Some kind of job that they saw as respectable. That’s never been my style and I knew that if I stayed in Philadelphia that we would only go crazy with each other. It’s not that they’re really bad parents or anything. Maybe neglectful, but I know other kids had it far worse. They just don’t understand me and if I’m honest, I don’t understand them either. I only left Philadelphia because I didn’t want to see the disappointment on their faces anymore or be disappointed in them when they missed another event or dinner because they got hung up at work. Even still, they are my parents and I feel some connection with them which is probably why I couldn’t find it in me to move too far away from them. That was why I applied to jobs that were still close by, still in Pennsylvania. 

      They’ve always been serious and all about appearances. How they had a kid like me will always be a mystery. I’ve always been more of a dreamer, preferring to live in my head with my fantasies. I was a smart student but a pretty quiet kid,

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