Chapter Text
You have arrived at your destination.
Somehow, by the grace of god, there was one open parking spot directly in front of the store. Mira took it as a good omen - though that didn’t stop her from leaning back in her seat and heaving a sigh, fingers pinching her nose as she went over her mental notes one more time.
Her initial email had been with Rumi, who ran the cafe. She had passed Mira pretty quickly over to Zoey, the primary tattoo artist. The latter was who she’d be talking to today - her emails bulldozed past any pretense of professional demeanor, seemingly confident that anyone that made it past Rumi’s initial screen was someone she could speak comfortably around.
It’s super chill here, don’t even sweat! We’re just looking for a piercer who knows their shit. Our last guy was ok, but he was definitely on the weirder side - even for me - and he definitely spent his rent money on shrooms at least twice. And then of course he just fucking bails on us like a week and a half before rent is due-
Right. These girls were up against it.
Given their situation, it made sense that she had gotten fast tracked to an interview. She’d seen (and been victim to) similar situations in past shops - fuckin’ inevitable with this crowd, one of her old mentors used to say. Lucky for them, it just so happened that Mira had gotten a lovely text from her boss last week saying that somehow the shop had run out of money, and that everyone was getting let go, and that I’ll do my best to get you guys your last checks soon, but…
Mira waved a hand in front of her face, as if to wave away the smell of bullshit. That was a class action she could think about later.
She checked her watch - 1:58. One more deep breath, and she pulled her keys from the ignition, cutting off the AC and the low murmur of whatever rock station she had flipped to on her way here. She grabbed her bag from the passenger seat, tossing her keys in with a clang as they hit the water bottle she had stowed inside. One last check of her makeup, and she was out the door.
Stepping out of the blessedly air conditioned interior of her car reminded her of two things: California was too fucking bright, and too fucking hot. She threw her bag over her shoulder and made a beeline for the store’s main entrance, emblazoned with a vinyl decal that read Naksso in scrawling, doodly script.
The smell of strong coffee and cinnamon wafted past Mira’s nose like a breeze in the desert. The room was scattered with small sofas and little plush arm chairs, three of which were filled by what Mira assumed were grad students. Their books and papers scattered across one of a half dozen low-slung coffee tables, while calyxes full of books, assorted merch, and terrariums lined the walls in quiet observation. Three of the four walls were painted a deep, dusky green, plastered with art in frames of varying sizes (and degrees of leveledness). Most were photographs - floral still lifes and panoramic nature scenes, mostly - but Mira also spotted more than a few paintings, from a wide and heftily-framed Bob Ross replica to a kitschy portrait of Marie Antoinette, both hands full of red velvet cake. In the far left corner, a small bar sat packed with all the usuals: a small touch screen register with its little card scanner, an espresso maker (its top, of course, stacked precariously with paper cups), a small glass display case with an assortment of pastries, a giant stainless steel cup full of straws, and dueling tip jars whose conjoined front face had been doodled on in chalkboard marker.
Across the top of the black writing surface, blocky letters in a variety of patterns spelled out TURTLES OR TORTOISES??? The left side depicted a sea turtle straight out of a Lisa Frank sticker pack, its shell a cacophony of neon flowers and its pupils tiny orange stars. On the right, the head and long neck of a monochromatic grey-green tortoise had been painstakingly rendered in all of its wrinkly glory, with a sparkle in its eye and a speech bubble that read “I’m 192 this year!” The turtle’s jar had a wad of ten or so $1 bills and a couple quarters, while the tortoise had a single $5.
Closer than I expected it to be, Mira mused.
Surrounding all and sundry were an army of potted plants - hanging in front of the bright, tall windows, nestled on side tables, reaching down from the tops of shelves to trace their fingers over books and t-shirts and the red brick accent wall they leaned against.
“Oh hey, perfect timing!”
Mira looked away from the (very cute) succulent arrangement on one of the coffee tables to see who had addressed her. The voice belonged to a woman in her mid twenties, maybe 5’6” or so thanks to the chunky black Docs she wore under loose fitting, light blue jeans. Her sweater was well worn - its Sunlight Sisters decal showing the stress of who knows how many washes over who knows how many years. Her winged eyeliner was pristine, matching her shockingly long and shockingly purple braid, which hung long and low down her back.
“Hey, you must be Rumi.” Mira did her best to school her face out of its initial surprise, straightening as she hiked her bag back up her shoulder.. “I’m Mira. Great to meet you in person.”
“Back at you. Glad you’ve been able to take in the scenery a bit. Pretty nice, right?” Rumi set down the assortment of cartons she had been carrying on the counter above the mini fridge, wiping her hands on her half apron. “We just finished up the paint last week. Getting Zoey to settle on a shade was torturous.”
Mira’s mouth twitched in a small smile. “We artists are a picky bunch. I get it.”
“Don’t encourage her, please!” Rumi threw her head back in mock exasperation, hands hanging loosely at her sides like the mere thought of it exhausted her. “I need to know you’re gonna have my back if you get this job. I referred you, so you technically owe me.”
She pointed a finger at Mira accusingly as she finished, then turned to crouch at the mini fridge as she stocked it with new cartons of oat milk and chai concentrate. Her sweater rode up slightly - and while Mira was ever the gentleman, a flash of contrasting color caught her eye.
Wide, jagged lines of multicolored ink ran across Rumi’s back, continuing (seemingly in both directions?) beneath her sweater. As she watched, Mira also noticed that her hands extended from her oversized sleeves with similar patterns, forking and waving across the backs of her palms, and even down several of her fingers on her left hand.
Damn.
Before Mira could respond to Rumi’s imposition of debt, the door on the opposite corner of the shop opened as a second woman stepped into the cafe. She was shorter than Rumi - maybe 5’2” at best - with her black hair tied in matching space buns. Her black denim shorts were frayed at the hems, hugging her hips below a yellow crop top that read “I’m Just a Baby!” in wide purple lettering.
The woman immediately scanned the room, grinning as she found Mira’s eyes. “Mira! Glad you could make it. I think I’m ready if you are. Think you can survive without me for a bit, Rumi?”
Rumi threw a rag over her shoulder with a scoff as Mira made her way across the cafe. “Something tells me I’ll be ok. But don’t take too long - school’s out at 3, so we’ll probably have a little rush to take care of before things start winding down.”
Zoey hummed affirmatively and turned towards Mira, beaming like she was seeing an old friend again for the first time in years. “Come on! I’m all set up. Do you want a snack or anything?”
“I think I’m good for now,” Mira replied. “Maybe when we’re done?”
Zoey nodded sagely. “An excellent idea. Right this way!”
Mira followed Zoey into the adjoining room, once again struck by the design of the space within. The walls were covered from floor to ceiling in framed sketches, flash boards, and past works. Some were photographs of finished and healed pieces, while others were pictures taken of Zoey mid-tattoo, the recipient smiling or flashing a peace sign to match Zoey’s wide grin and double thumbs up.
Like the cafe, this section of the shop was awash with plants - most hanging from the ceiling or standing near the front window, basking in the constant sunlight. A massive fiddle-leaf fig stood in the back of the room near what Mira presumed was Zoey’s station, its broad leaves bright and waxy against the overhead lighting.
Zoey scooted towards the back of the room, where a small desk was set up with two chairs and a smattering of papers and folders. She pulled one chair out for Mira and rounded to the other side, tidying the stack of papers as she hummed along to the raucous guitar solo playing from a small speaker next to her.
The song faded as Zoey hit the power button, settling into her chair and rolling her neck in a slow circle. “When I tell you it’s been a week.”
Mira cracked a small smile, eyebrow raised. “Your text certainly said as much. This guy just bailed out of the blue?”
“Dude, YES!” Zoey’s hands splayed out in front of her, as if setting the stage for her story. “Literally shot us a text last Tuesday and said he had to quit. No response when we asked why, and NO response once we asked about rent. My only consolation is that we’ll probably never see the guy again. He gave me the heebie-jeebies anyway.”
Mira’s wry smile widened. “At least there’s one positive to be found there.”
“If you play your cards right, there might be two!” Zoey’s chuckled to herself as she opened one of her folders, flipping through the papers inside til she found the one she was looking for. “I have a good feeling about you, but I still have to go through all the usual questions and stuff. You ready?”
“Let’s do it.”
Over the next twenty minutes or so, Zoey went through all the typical interview questions Mira had answered a hundred times over her career. They went through her resume, explaining her experience and certifications, her specialties, what she’d need for her station. More than once, they broke off into tangents of old war stories, recounting shitty bosses and difficult clients.
Mira usually did her best to stay formal when she interviewed, but something about Zoey set her at uncharacteristic ease. She was effortlessly and infectiously cheerful, always ready with a quip or anecdote that inevitably drew a wry smile. Her freckles danced when she smiled, and her earrings were tiny soot sprites holding their little colored candies.
She’s beautiful.
Zoey pulled her from reverie with one last question. “Perhaps most important of all… You’ve gotta run me through all these piercings. Did you do them yourself? They look awesome!”
Mira turned the question over in her mind. “That… might be the only question I didn’t prep for today. But sure, I got you.”
She began recounting the story of each piercing. The belly button ring she got when she was 16 (to piss off her mom), the bar across the bridge of her nose (to piss off her dad), the smattering of rings and studs across her ears and nostrils - many of which she had, in fact, done herself. “Oh, and this guy.”
Mira opened her mouth, wiggling her tongue to show the silver barbell running through its center. “I used to have a bunch more around my mouth - a medusa, a smiley, some snake bites - but things started getting a little too crowded. I like a good variety, but I’m not super maximalist, y’know?”
“Haha, yeah! I totally get that. That’s so cool!” Zoey grinned as she tapped a finger nail on the back of her head, as if to scratch an itch without messing up her hair. Mira noticed her voice had gotten ever so slightly higher in pitch. “I’ve thought about getting a tongue piercing for the longest time, but the recovery has always kinda scared me. Rumi always reminds me that I can’t kiss her if -”
Zoey’s eyes widened as though she had just remembered something of vital importance. “Oh right! Really important note. For, like, HR purposes and stuff. As if we even had a PR person.” Her cheeks had started to tinge the faintest pink. “Rumi and I are together. Married, actually!”
She flashed her left hand, which had a swirling helix of stars that wrapped from the tip of her ring finger down to the back of her palm. They grew in size and detail into what looked like a bundle of larger, star shaped fruits bracketed in palm fronds. “See! To the stars and back, that’s our motto. Then I’ve got my little Paopu fruit from Kingdom Hearts. I still cry every time I replay the first few levels. Rumi says I’m ridiculous, but I think she’s secretly super into my sensitive, romantic side.”
Mira laughed, leaning back in her chair. “That’s what you want, at the end of the day. How long ago did you go in on the business together?”
“We started dating… It’ll be eight years in June. We got married on the same day, so we’re just about to hit three years now. And we’re eight months into the whole business thing - August 1st is our first anniversary, which I’m trying not to think about yet.” Zoey’s brow knitted with concentration as she recalled her timelines. “Cuz it’s still so wild to think about, y’know? Neither of us knew if we would last beyond the first three months, but once we got settled in and figured out the logistical stuff, it got a lot easier. We get our fair share of curveballs - like this one - but it’s been nice to navigate them as a team.”
Mira gave an affirmative “hmm” as Zoey busied herself gathering up stray papers and binders she had opened over the course of the day, sliding them each into small cubbies to the side of her desk. Her eyes were soft, enjoying her reminiscence as they each took a breath.
When she finished organizing, she looked back at Mira with a smile. “Well, Ms. Mira, I personally have no further questions. When can you start?”
Mira paused. Even with how well this had gone, she somehow still figured that there would be a “well great, we’ll get back to you” phase. A strange mix of emotions washed over her… Relief? Joy? Validation? Anxiety?
Whatever it was, she packed it away as she regarded the woman across from her. “I’ll put in what orders I can tonight and grab everything else tomorrow. Beyond that I just need to flip on my little client portal page and make a post. Does Thursday sound ok?”
Mira half expected Zoey’s eyes to start flashing with stars like her sea turtle drawing. She pumped a fist in front of her, the long “yussssssssssssssssssss” she hissed out earning another laugh. “Thursday sounds great! It’ll be so awesome to have someone else in here with me. You just booked yourself a one way ticket to Yap City - population, us!”
As the two women shared a giggle, the door to the cafe opened behind them. “The mayor of Yap City needs to make a tour stop in Rushville if she wants to keep her job.” Rumi’s voice was the slightest bit strained; the ambient noise of people gathered in the room beyond significantly louder than the library atmosphere Mira had last seen it in. “It’s not packed-packed, but I’d appreciate the help if you guys are all done?”
Zoey turned to Mira, who nodded towards the door encouragingly. “Go on, Ms. Mayor. I’ll get out of your hair for the day and start putting my lists together.”