With a convention penciled in on the east coast during the anniversary of Cassandra’s passing, Luciano felt on top of the world. He hadn’t run his absence by Antonio yet, but he was sure his older brother would be fine with it. Well, as fine as he could be given that he’d have to leave his office and once again step foot into Thorn Tattoo. While his brother had no problem running the place from afar, he’d always preferred to delegate the day-to-day operations to someone else.

If anyone understood what he’d gone through, it was his brothers. They’d been by Luciano’s side through the heartache, disbelief, and confusion. No one else knew better what he went through every year.

Las Vegas wasn’t home anymore—it was a graveyard. Luciano didn’t feel welcome here. Memories of Cassandra affronted him when he walked down the street. It was impossible to forget how they’d stopped for coffee there and made jokes about the unfortunate font choice on their signs, or how he’d waited by the dressing rooms here while Cassandra slipped into tiny sparkling dresses that would catch the club lights and make her impossible to miss on the dance floor. Cassandra attracted people like a moth to a flame but she’d only had eyes for him. He never deserved her—and then to have her taken so suddenly. If she only hadn’t been there that day.

No one understood what it was like to see her face wherever he went. Las Vegas had once been the place he loved most on earth. Now, he loathed it; especially this time of year. Work away from Vegas was the best distraction he had, if only Melanie would understand

She seemed more chipper than usual, Luciano noticed. Not only was she humming as she went about her daily tasks, but she smiled at him more often. Her plump, red lips were full and inviting, and when her glasses slipped down her nose, she was irresistible. Luciano wasn’t blind to his attraction to her, but he never made a move to act on it. Doing so felt dishonest. He’d given Cassandra a ring, promised that she’d be his forever, but before they could solidify that vow, she’d been taken from him.

He wasn’t sure he could ever date another woman when he’d given Cassandra all of his heart.

Sometimes, Melanie challenged that devotion. They’d spent two years living together while on the road, and he’d seen her at her best and worst. When she got dolled up for formal events, she was stunning. Her nerd aesthetic played into everything she wore, adding just the right amount of personality to an otherwise drab, professional ensemble. But the looks he liked the best were during their downtime and she was bumming around their hotel room with no one there to see her. Baggy sweatpants. Cute graphic T-shirts. Hair twisted up and messy in a bun, as if she’d just rolled out of bed. Glasses crooked…. She never looked like the typical tattoo shop girl and he appreciated that the most about her. He wasn’t the first to tattoo her but he’d inked her twice after she’d spent months searching for the right designs both times. He’d loved how thoroughly she’d researched the art she was going to place on her skin taking it as seriously as she did everything else.

No matter what she looked like, it wasn’t happening. Luciano wouldn’t allow it.

“Antonio’s been calling you lately,” Melanie said as she waltzed into his tattoo bay that morning. Since the area was so small, they shared the space. Luciano’s clients were always briefed about Melanie’s presence within the tattoo bay before any ink breached skin, and Melanie was always respectful of people’s privacy. Luciano noted that the men he tattooed appreciated having a woman in the room, and often sat better through projects in an attempt to impress her. Women tended to relax, knowing there was another female presence nearby—especially when they were having sensitive areas of their body tattooed. Not everyone felt comfortable alone with a burly, bearded, heavily tattooed man.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I keep taking his calls but he’s insistent on wanting to speak to you. He just sent me a follow-up email. He wants to know how you’re adjusting to being head artist and temporary shop manager.”

Luciano shook his head. He was with a young client, a kid who’d just turned eighteen. Luciano didn’t usually tattoo teenagers, but the kid had fronted some serious cash, and the tattoo he wanted was a portrait of his recently deceased dog. Luciano turned down jobs if he ever thought they’d be an issue to his clients later in life. “I’m doing fine as head artist. Head artist is easy. Temporary shop manager? Tell him to blow it. I’m not managing anything. That’s not my style.”

“He’s not going to want to hear that,” Melanie said. She never spoke stiffly, but he heard the discomfort in her tone. “You know your brother. Even if he did split the business with Giovanni and Riley, deep down, this is still his business.”

“And I’m the artist who made it what it is.”

“You’re the artist who left before Thorn Tattoo got big,” Melanie pointed out. “Giovanni was the one who raised the shop up from the ashes and turned it into a heavy hitter, bringing all the artists up with him. Your brothers deserve your respect. You abandoned them when they needed you the most. Your father’s legacy almost shut down.”

Luciano took his foot off the petal. The tattoo gun stopped buzzing, and the kid on his chair lifted his head to see what the matter was. “I didn’t abandon them and they both know it.”

Melanie said nothing. She’d been looking over her shoulder at him from the section of the desk she used—it was free of pencil sketches and etchings—but turned back to her work when he gave his answer. He couldn’t help but feel like he’d let her down yet again. Since he’d returned to Thorn Tattoo, he felt like he’d been stepping on her toes more than usual and for some reason that bothered him. Out of everyone, disappointing Melanie made him feel terrible and he couldn’t stand that feeling.

On the road, she was much more easily distracted and frazzled. He missed those carefree days when he could tease her and she happily dished it back. She was more than his assistant. Somewhere along the way, she’d become his best friend.

“I’ll let him know, then,” she said. She had her laptop open, and he saw her compose a new email and start to type. The distance they were at didn’t let him see what she was typing, but he could only imagine the things she’d say to Antonio about him.

Irresponsible. Stubborn. Entitled.

After the success he’d found in life, Luciano supposed it wasn’t far from the truth. Before he’d turned thirty, he’d already taken the tattooing industry by storm. Cassandra had kept him grounded and humble, but now that she was gone, he was untethered and Melanie was the only one ever to come close to grounding him.

Maybe he was taking the power trip a little too far.

“Tell him that I’m not fit to be a manager,” Luciano said. For something to do, he changed his gloves. The kid wanted a black and white portrait, so Luciano wasn’t concerned about color contamination, but he felt antsy. The feel of nitrile on his skin was suddenly uncomfortable. “I don’t have the head for keeping things together like Gio does. Hell, I can hardly keep myself pulled together, you know that Mel, that’s why I have you.”

Melanie stopped typing. For a second, Luciano was sure she was going to make a comment. Instead, she highlighted the contents of the email, deleted it, and started typing again.

In a small way, Luciano felt redeemed.

“You think you can keep going?” the kid in his chair asked. “I’m still ready to go. It’s a good pain.”

“Yeah.” Luciano snapped his gloves back into place. “We’ll get it knocked out. Should take one sitting to get it done, that’s it. You ready?”

“You know it.” The kid put his head down again, and Luciano returned to work. In the end, no matter how famous he was, he had a job to do. Melanie was right. If he didn’t keep going, he’d fade into obscurity.

The last thing Luciano wanted was to be forgotten. His work would live on forever, but he knew he wouldn’t. If Cassandra had taught him anything, it was that.

* * *

“Going out to pick up lunch,” Melanie declared. She stretched and stood. Luciano was fifteen minutes away from finishing the kid’s tattoo, if he had to guess. “You want me to pick up anything for you?”

“Depends on where you’re going.”

“I’m thinking of Hudson Burger a couple streets over.”

“The barbecue bacon melt, no pickles,” Luciano replied. He knew Hudson Burger well. No matter how long he kept himself out of Vegas, he felt he’d always know the city like the back of his hand. “With one of the cherry cola slush drinks they make on site.”

“You got it.” Melanie made her way toward the doors. “What card should I use?”

Luciano waved his free hand nebulously. “Whatever one’s got the least on it.”

“Okay. I’ll be back soon.” Melanie was gone.

She never made much noise, but when she left the area, Luciano always felt her absence. During one of their late night conversations in Nashville, when they’d gone out to celebrate her birthday and come home a little tipsy, he’d told her as much. With a passion he’d never seen in her before, she’d sat him down and asked him if he believed in the ‘collective subconscious.’ Luciano had no idea what it was, but Melanie insisted that he was in tune with it, and that he could feel her energy as well as he could feel her physical being. The time they spent together on a day-to-day basis only supported her theory, she claimed.

Since that night, she’d never talked about it again. Melanie, who was always so careful to lay out sensible, properly detailed plans didn’t seem like someone who’d be into spirituality. Luciano thought of that night often, and how pretty she’d looked with the moonlight sparkling in her eyes.

Nashville had been a good time. He hoped to go back some day.

“Alright.” Luciano wiped the tattoo clean. The portrait had turned out really well, and he knew when it healed it would look even better. “You want to take a look before I wrap it?”

“Hell yeah, I do!” The kid peeled himself off the chair and made his way to the full-length mirror near the swinging doors. Luciano passed him a hand mirror so he could catch his reflection in it. With back tattoos, it was tricky to get the client to see the tattoo they’d received in detail.

“Holy shit!” the kid gasped. “This is… wow. I heard you were good, man, but this is out of this world! It looks exactly like her.”

“I do my best,” Luciano said in earnest. “If you’re good with it, I’ll bandage you up and send you up to see Jill at the front desk. She’ll get the rest of your bill squared away and give you all the aftercare instructions on how not to fuck it up as it’s healing. It’s important you listen to them, okay?”

“No, totally. I would never want to damage this tat.” The kid craned his neck to get a better look. “I’m so impressed.”

Satisfied clients never failed to satisfy Luciano. Praise for a job well done scratched an itch inside of him. He beamed, cleaned the kid up a final time, and applied the antibacterial ointment he always finished his tattoos with. Once the tattoo was sealed under some plastic wrap, the kid put his shirt back on and went to finish the transaction with Jill.

Luciano started to clean his station.

There was ink to wash away and tables to disinfect. He had needles that needed safe disposal, and parts he needed to throw in the autoclave before they started it that afternoon. He wiped down the chair to prepare it for the next client, made sure all of his equipment was neatly placed and secured, then started cleaning up his desk. Melanie appreciated it when he kept his piles of junk to his side of the desk, but that didn’t always happen. As Luciano cleaned, he accidentally snagged some of her things while moving his own.

One of the things he’d grabbed was the pamphlet to the East Coast Tattoo Society convention.

Luciano thumbed at the bottom of the pamphlet, eager to read about what events they had planned, but his eye stopped on an important detail on the front page. He paused, looked it over, and then frowned. The convention was being hosted in ‘exciting’ Las Vegas.

Despite the name of the organization, it wasn’t happening on the east coast at all.

Luciano clutched the pamphlet in his hand. His heart beat in his throat, and his pulse raced. He was sure he was going to get out of the city in time to escape the anniversary of Cassandra’s death, but now it looked like that wasn’t happening.

What was he going to do?

As he panicked, the swinging doors parted and Melanie made her way back in. She had two heavy paper bags of fast food in her hand. “It should not be this hot out there this time of year,” she said. Luciano barely heard her.

Why hadn’t she told him that the conference was in Las Vegas? He couldn’t help but feel like she’d thrown him under the bus.

“Luc?” Melanie asked when he said nothing. She set the bags down, then her gaze dropped, and Luciano knew she’d seen the pamphlet in his hand.

Melanie was silent.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Luciano asked when he found his tongue. “You know how I feel about Vegas.”

“I…” Melanie dropped her gaze. She tapped her heel against the ground, stalling for time.

Luciano grew impatient. “What am I going to do now?” he asked. “I can’t back out.”

“You could always stay,” Melanie said softly. She looked up at him, expression pained. He felt bad for her, but at the same time, he found it hard to forgive her. Whatever her motive was, it was misguided.

“Stay?” Luciano asked. “You want me to stay here? You want me to relive it all over again?”

He couldn’t take it. He clenched his fists willing his heart rate to slow down. The memories flooded back to him every day. The sound of brakes squealing. That horrible crunch. Cassandra in the hospital. Cassandra never leaving. Even working at Thorn Tattoo was too deeply anchored in the past to be safe.

He needed to get some air.

Before he could take his first step, Melanie grabbed him by the wrist and held him in place. He looked at her, startled. It wasn’t often that she was so bold.

“No,” she said sternly. “I need you to stay, and I need you to listen. For this time and this time only, I’m not going to take no for an answer. Please listen to me, Luc, even though the things I’m about to say are things you don’t want to hear.” She set her jaw.

It had to be the adrenaline and the emotion of the moment, because Luciano had never before been so struck by her. Savage beauty lent itself well to her face, and his heart raced for her.

He’d stay. He’d listen.

If only so he could see her angry for just a little longer.