Untamed (129 page)

One month earlier...

“I’m moving to Melbourne.”

It is a statement of fact.

My father looks up from his paper, and his cornflake-filled spoon hovers in between the bowl and his mouth. His sea-green eyes narrow and his crow’s feet deepen.

“Are you telling me or asking me?”

I flash him a quick smile. “We’ve talked about it before, and I’ve made up my mind. I’m moving to Melbourne, and I’m going to apprentice for Tina Azume. She’s already granted me an interview.”

Dad gives me a slow blink. Out of nowhere, he looks like he’s aged ten years. “Oh.”

“Rose lives out there and she’s got a spare room and says that I can move in with her. Tina Azume is my favorite artist and one of the best on the planet.” I offer a small shrug. “It’s what I want to do.”

“You’re
serious
about becoming a tattooist?”

I hold my breath, wait for that hint of passive-aggressive judgment to rear its ugly head, but it doesn’t, so I nod at him. I should give him some credit this time.

“Yeah, Dad. I really am. And actually, we prefer to be called tattoo artists.”

“We?” he asks.

“I’m going to become one, Dad, and I’m going to be good. And I’ll be honest, nothing you say will stop me from chasing this.”

His bushy brows bunch, and he looks hurt for a moment. “I can see you’re on the offensive.”

I lick my lips. I won’t lie, I’m nervous. Butterflies are raging in my stomach, and I’m desperately hoping he doesn’t say no. I want to go with his blessing. I don’t want to disappoint him.

“You’re confident you can do this, Penelope?”

“You’ve seen how well I can draw. I’m going to be good, Dad. I really am. I have a good hand, and a better eye.”

“I know you do. I’ve seen your drawings. You’ve got great perspective and lines.”

I feel a blush in my cheeks. “Thanks. That means a lot coming from an architect. And from you, Dad.”

“But, Penelope, body art, really?”

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to draw well on skin?”

“I can’t say I do,” he admits.

“It’d be really great if I could get my father’s support on this.”

He sighs. “You know, you get that manipulative streak from your mother.”

“I’m not being manipulative. I’m just being honest.”

“Your mother was appalled to find out you got another tattoo.” He gestures at my wrist. I have a silhouette of the Chicago city skyline there. I did it myself with my
left
hand. I am a little ambidextrous, and so I’ve been training it.