Go Back And Fetch It
    

Austin paused for a moment as he gazed out of the window toward the setting sun. As was his habit to do, he ran his right thumb back and forth over the long ragged horizontal scar on his neck. The light purple and pink clouds were splayed out like upside down ocean waves washing up and over the fading blue sky then receding back into infinity.  

In the far distance he could already see black night sprinkled with a few scattered stars. Sights such as this made him wonder how anyone in their right mind could find manmade skylines more beautiful than the heavenly crafted horizons. The tall rigid structures were nothing but mutilation of nature in his eyes. Despite being raised in the city his whole life, Austin was a nature lover.     
    
He returned to his dining room, which had been converted into a home tattoo parlor, and resumed straightening up the general area. Not that it was unsightly. Austin simply preferred after every single completed customer to restore the place back to its original order. The medium sized room was empty except for his favorite armless swivel chair, a black massage table and a huge black stained liquor cabinet. 
    
Although, instead of being filled with liquor, the formidable cabinet was packed with a rainbow assortment of ink, needles, tattoo guns, Band-Aids, cotton swabs, rubbing alcohol and all the other tools that a professional tattoo artist might need.
  
The walls were sparsely clothed with a few African inspired abstract images; one framed picture had three intense wood carved masks staring straight ahead at whomever had the nerve to stare back, another was a smoky image of a head with its lips frozen in an immortal “O” and the last held the image of two figures walking hand in hand toward a great purple abyss. Cream Venetian blinds allowed weakening striped sunlight to spill onto the thoroughly polished hardwood floors.
    
If ever there was a field slave who fell through a time portal into the present and found equilibrium in his new surroundings, Austin could have passed for his twin. He was tall at 6’4, thick with muscles, toted calloused hands and spoke in a deep bass voice. 
He was clean shaven, face and scalp, skin the color of burnt charcoal with bright brown eyes that could get colder than the clear cubes floating in summer drinks. Arguably the inspiration for all John Henry type characters were alive and well in his bloodstream. 
    
Being that it was the end of his work day, and there was no one coming by, Austin stripped down to his mesh basketball shorts so that the oppressive summer heat was not so oppressive. The weather app on this phone said it was 83º but it felt notably hotter to him.  
Even though he operated out of his own home, and technically was not licensed, the talented artist preferred to conduct himself as professionally as possible.

On the one hand it suited his already straightforward personality and on the other hand it was a good way to regulate the behavior of the clientele. The more he treated his home as a legitimate tattoo parlor, the more his clients mirrored that attitude. 

For the greater part of it, Austin maintained a beneficial relationship with his constituents. He had a quick wit, was down to earth and had an approachable air about himself that made the majority of customers feel comfortable talking about themselves. Since he was a little boy, Austin had an inborn proclivity for reading people and establishing a positive rapport. This endearing aspect of his character was a tremendous part of his overall success. 

As had been commented on many occasions by almost every last one of his clients, for a tattoo artist, Austin had remarkably few tats. Funny thing was, the few barely visible tats that he did have were in places that were virtually impossible to hide.     

Covering a large portion of his neck scar was a pirate inspired skull & cross bones, underscored with the question ‘why fear him?’ On the back of his left hand was the word ‘felonious’ and a small 180º arc on his chest read the words “down seven times, up eight’  Everything was in black ink.
    
Satisfied with the cleanliness of the room, Austin sat down in his swivel chair, picked up a lather satchel that he stashed his daily earnings in and began calculating his dough. The day had been hella good to him. 
    
Well back during his days in elementary school it was evident that he had a sharp ability and knack for drawing. Despite being able to draw just about anything, and the sheer amount of time he spent doing it, Austin never viewed it as much more than a relaxing pass time. Furthermore, Austin had been a well-known and liked figure in the area since his hustling days. So, well before he began giving ink jobs, Austin always kept some form of proper legal job.         

Austin did this partly to hide his illegal activities and partly because he enjoyed having his hands in more than one pot. The term of the day was “multiple streams of income.” 
He’d worked in grocery stores, movie theaters and restaurant kitchens. During the summer months, when someone was missing on the crew, he’d even lend his hands and back to his Uncle Greg’s landscaping business, ‘Laid Out Lawns.’ However, he always made the bulk of his money pushing weed. He started dabbling with the happy leaf during his final year of junior high. 

In the fourth grade, Austin became good friends with a lean, verbose kid named Tony. Tony was a ferociously funny, lighthearted, yellow-skinned rascal whose scalp was constantly lined with tight, neat cornrows to the back. After meeting in school, they discovered that they only lived two blocks away and had been serious road dogs ever since.      

Tony had a big brother, Bo, who was four years older and very close to his younger sibling. Bo was heavy into playing sports and the thick-shouldered young man was a standout middle linebacker at his high school. Yet, his athletic gifts came pretty naturally.  So he didn’t spend an inordinate amount of time training or practicing. 

Instead he focused his energy on dressing well, selling weed and girls. In fact, his fashion sense and THC peddling were only methods to get girls. Bo barely smoked himself and if he could still attract females in nothing but white tees and Chuck Taylors, that’s probably all that he’d wear. 

However, Bo and Tony had a grand mutual love for video games and that is how they did a great deal of their bonding. Through hanging out with Tony, Austin got very chummy with Bo. Like the two brothers, Austin also had a great yen for playing video games and seamlessly fit right into their sessions as all three were pretty good…and competitive. 
Having spent so much time with the siblings, Austin began to admire their closeness and did feel a small pang of jealousy.

At the same time, he also took note of Bo’s dapper ways and the positive attention that came with it. With his single mother residing on the lower end of the middle class financial spectrum, Austin was also quick to pick-up on how Bo was financing his well-stocked closet. This got his brain to churning...