Inked
Summary: Edward, an aspiring tattoo artist never thought he could lose so much sleep over some ink he left on a stranger's back. Well, I guess he's never met Bella; sa-freaking-Bella Black. AH, Canon Couples...eventually
Disclaimer: All publicly recognized characters, quotes, references, or anything else associated to Stephanie Meyer's Twilight Saga© are not of my own creation.
A/N: Hello again, my fabulous readers. I'm starting this new story, seeing as 'The Drafts' is quickly coming to a close, and I wanted to do something different. I love the idea of re-creating when Edward and Bella met, so here's my take on it. Without further ado, please welcome Tattooward and Inkella to the fandom ;).
~~Inked~~
Be willing to be uncomfortable. Be comfortable being uncomfortable. It may get tough, but it's a small price to pay for living a dream. - Peter McWilliams
~~Inked~~
The first thing you learn upon coming to New York is that no one has a car. Or at least, in the time I've spent here, I've never met anyone with a car. When I first decided to move here, I figured it'd be too much of a hassle trying to move my car from Chicago to NYC, so I-against my better judgment, left it in the hands of my newly license armed neighbor, Riley. That was my first mistake. I've been told there are going to be many more in my future, but that doesn't mean I've got to like it. And, to be perfectly 110% honest, I don't. In fact, I hate it. Never did I fully appreciate the luxury of being able to go anywhere with a turn of a key, but now I miss it like nobody's business. The first time I tried to catch a Taxi, I did it based off my knowledge coming from movies. Turns out you don't stick your thumb out in the road and yell Taxi. No - you practically jump in the road and scream for that dang yellow cab as loud as your lungs allow. The second time I tried catching a Taxi, I fell victim for being one of those gentlemen you hear so much about. Turns about New York ladies are pretty good actors. One second they are crying and the next they're smiling and thanking you for the taxi with a seductive wink. The third and last time I tried to catch a Taxi, I raced an old man for it - and won, might I add. Edward Masen: 1 Various other New Yorkers: 2. I'm catching up, you see.
But it was all worth it to get to this new city. I was carrying a total of one duffle and a suitcase-and I was thankful to have as much. You see, coming to New York was not easy for me as I was as poor as your typical 24 year old can be, so I sold over half my things getting my plane ticket and first month apartment lease. It was worth it. New York might be the most obnoxious place on earth filled with the rudest people on who make up the worst drivers, but, it's a place where dreams come true. That's why I'm here. That's why I sat in an airplane for seven hours while a two year old kicked my seat and slutty flight attendants flirted with me. To make my dreams come true, and so help me, that's what I'm planning to do. I'm fresh out of college - Washington Art Institutes - with a degree in graphic design, and I plan to put it to good use. Tattoos. My father objected when I told him, and so did my mother. My older brother discouraged me and told me to do something more 'sensible'. Still, it was what I wanted to be, and they couldn't stop me if I paid myself. Granted my family isn't doing that bad in the economy, but that doesn't mean I have money flowing out from the bank-that's my father - a stuck up, district attorney father who swears I am destined to follow in his footsteps. I swear I'm destined to mark people's bodies with stunning pictures. So we had a little disagreement.
"Where to, son," asked the cab driver in a voice that gave away his smoking habits.
"84 Amsterdam Ave," I read off the back of my hand. Written there, along with my new address, were the house phone number and the zip code - you never know when those might come in handy.
Other than that, it was a silent ride. Actually, that's incorrect, let me rephrase. The drive was sure as hell not silent. There was beeping of horns, many birds getting flipped, and I think I saw at least 2 fender benders. By the end of the ride, I was clutching onto the door for my life, and the driver thought I was a mental patient.
"That's going to be 18 dollars and 40 cents." Well, that was a little bit too exact.
"You got change for a 20?" It was all I had, I didn't carry around quarters and dimes; prefer the paper money thank you.
"No."
It was a lie, I could see the roll of change and dollars sitting in his glove department, but nonetheless I gave him my money and his 2 dollar and 60 cent tip, slung my bags over my shoulder, then rolled my sad little suitcase into the double doors of my new living area. The place was nice enough, 10 stories tall, a fine lobby and, from what I'd heard, exceptional service. 'I was a little disappointed that there was no elevator attendant. I had thought there were always elevator attendants!
"Hello, sir. How might I be of service today?" The main desk worker was a male, thank God. The last thing I needed was a repeat of that awful flight attendant today.
"Hi, I need to check in. My name is Edward Masen-5th floor," I say confidently. My floor number was the one thing I memorized, and was proud of it. Ah, it's the little things in life that counts, it seems.
"All right, handsome, here's your key and then just sign in right here. If there's anything else I could help you with, just give me a holler."
I gave this guy a weird look, to which he only winked. Gay. Luck was not on my side today.
~~Inked~~
"Hey, honey. Are you having a good time?" my mother called at around 5 or 6 o'clock with a heavy heart, claiming her nest was empty. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I'd only been living with them for the last six months - before that I was in college. Her nest has been empty for quite some time, if you ask me.
"Yeah, everyone's…really rude here. But I'm excited for work." I rubbed in her face. See, mom, I can make 'big boy' decisions on my own.
"Oh, I'm sure you are, sweetie. You've always been so talented, and you're so committed when you try new things. You get that from me, you know. Hey, guess what? While you're in New York, it's around six, but while I'm here it's barely five Isn't that funny to think about?"
My mother was not a bright one, nor had she ever been. That was why she loved my dad - he was smart. Handsome would be a long shot to my eyes, but smart was undeniably one of his traits.
"Yeah, ma, funny. Listen, I'm in the middle of making dinner and I kind of need to go. Is it okay if I call you later?" I lied swiftly. Dinner for tonight was some random Hungry Man I picked up at Big Y.
"Oh, of course, honey. I didn't mean to keep you. Be safe. Your father and I both love and believe in you, okay?"
"Yep, mom, sure…I'll talk to you later."
With no further words, I cut off the phone line. Mostly I was busy trying to decide on a new tattoo. It was one of the rules my new boss had - every tattoo artist must have at least one tattoo. Stupid, I know, but I think it sounds kind of quirky and cool. It's something about setting an example for the customers, I guess. My boss's name was Emmett Cullen and he is only 25 years old. From what I understand, he comes from an unbelievably rich family who bought this place for him, right on the busy streets in the city. When he told me I was to start working, he gave me a manual (only about 3 pages long, a very light rule book) explaining the basic requirements. I skipped over most of them, as they seemed useless, but read intently the dress code, self-requirements, hours, and pay sections. This guy had almost my every step planned out within a page in a half. Not bad.
I knew that if I was to get a tattoo I'd want it to be something meaningful. Too often you'll see someone with a lover's name on their neck that they'll later regret. Me? I wanted something that I could look back on in ten years and still smile at. Tattoos weren't something to be taken lightly under any means, so I put a lot of thought and consideration into my own. Personally, (and ironic enough) I'd rather give tattoos than get them. Honestly, I was nervous in getting one. I mean - I'd given a few cheap tattoos during my time in college and from what I'd witnessed, they hurt - an actual client had said this - worse than a son of a gun on a hot summer's day in Alaska. That sounds like it hurts a lot. I've googled common tattoos for men, too, and I've only gotten random names of girlfriends, patterns up their arms or abs, or some animal.
Still, I was not giving up home in Google. Eventually, at around 10 o'clock, I found my tattoo.
The Chinese symbol for big dreams, that sucker was finding a home right on my left bicep. Left, because, after the tattoo I had to go start my first day at work, and I was a righty. I didn't want to mess up someone's tattoo because of my own sore one. Yeah, I was good like that, planning ahead.
Well, Emmett told me to call him whenever I needed to to schedule my early morning tattoo, and I guess that 10:13 counts as whenever so…
"Why hello, my fellow tattoo-er-er. What have you decided on, boy?" he asks in a voice showing no weakness from fatigue.
"I'm thinking the Chinese symbol for big dreams. You think you can do that? On my…upper arm?" Bicep seemed almost like the wrong word to say with Emmett.
"Good choice, man. I was sure you were going to be like some of those other rookies who come in wanted full body tattoos on their arms and face when they haven't even gotten one. You're a smart little man, I'll give you that. What hand do you use for art?"
"First off, I ain't no little man." I know he was my boss, but I think I considered him my friend first and foremost. "and second, I'm getting it on the left because I use my right. I'm smart enough to know that."
"Whoa, I picked up a feisty little Chicago man, huh?
"You could call me that. All right, how much earlier do I need to come in to get the tattoo done?"
"Not long, only about n hour. It won't take that long, but it would be a good idea to come in to get yourself somewhat organized before the customers come in. Saturdays in the shop are like toy stores on Christmas. I don't know why. Well I actually do. Most people get their 'toos done after they've had one too many, and Satudays are days that people do have one too many. Eh, I'm blabbling now. I'm going to let you go. See ya little man."
"I'm not a - " but before I could finish my sentence the line went dead.
I already knew I was going to like it here.
A/N: AAAAAND there you have it! You should all go over to 4MeJasper and Aly130 and give them your best, seeing as they did such a lovely job on this chapter. I love them both (even if they like Jasper more than Edward) for taking on me as a challenge. Hahah, but seriously, go check them out.