God’s Masterpieces

 “I swear, if the air conditioning breaks down today, heads will roll.” 

“If you don’t like the weather in New England, just wait a few minutes.” Chris Leclair, a staff writer for the Laconia Daily Sun, always tried his best to be affable, no matter the circumstances. But he had to admit, Laconia really was insufferably hot today, and he was starting to regret having worn a suit. Chris’ friends liked to call him “Mr. GQ” because of his perpetually clean-shaven face, dress shirts devoid of wrinkles and hair always styled just so. He also had the sensitive, gentlemanly personality to match – at least, he thought he did. At this moment, he was at InkRedible, one of the most renowned tattoo parlors in New Hampshire, sweating rivers as Nadia Bennett, the owner of the place, fiddled with the air conditioner to bring the temperature down to a more tolerable level. According to Chris’ boss, Phil Asher, who had a tendency to reduce people to neat little archetypes for the sake of journalism – “rags to riches,” “successful immigrant,” “good kid gone bad,” “the paper needed a story about a ‘fearless woman,’” and Nadia was the perfect subject. Chris had agreed – she must be fearless, he had thought; women who squash tradition under their heels have to be.