He scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, better if the noisy, dirty stuff is done before the customers arrive. Plus I felt like an ass about going off on you at the store yesterday.” He stepped closer. “I know your job is to get us out of this mess.”
My brain had stuck on the phrasenoisy, dirty stuffbut caught up to the present when I realized he was apologizing to me. “It’s all good… I get it. You have a history with this place. I don’t have that yet.”
He licked his lips and nodded. “Why don’t you finish your coffee, then you can give me a hand getting this finished.”
Chapter Seven
Luke
Iwas glad I had started early on hanging the frames. Partly because I was a dick to Meredith and wanted to make it up to her, and partly because having her help me was so much worse than doing it on my own. We got into a rhythm of her passing me things while I screwed the frames to the wall. A simple enough task except while I was on a ladder, her head was right about dick height.
This was a problem. As was the smell of her perfume and the fact that our hands kept touching when she handed me screws. I was fighting to keep my cock from getting harder than a semi in my jeans. Half hard I could hide, a full-on flagpole would be kind of obvious.
I hadn’t had sex since Meredith this summer. I’d love to say my dry spell was the problem, but it wasn’t. Even when Meredith had spent the night with me, I’d been ready to go again not long after we’d finished.
The girl just did things to me.
She was so fucking sexy with her ass in a pair of well-fitting jeans. She was all polished and businesslike. Even her lipstick was perfect. I wanted to mess it up. To take that professional demeanor of hers and watch it melt as I teased her center with my tongue.
Sexy or not, I still wasn’t totally on board with the flash tattoo day, and I let that thought distract me as we continued to work. I was grateful that Meredith suggested I do the designs myself. Of course, I still had to get Roxy’s stamp of approval on that one. Some people got into tattoo work expecting to make good money or because they liked working with people. I’ve met some who only chose this line of work because they are covered in tattoos themselves. I am in it strictly for the art. The creative outlet. The self-expression, the color and the fucking escape from reality. Art has always held that place in my life and something about this flash day cheapens that.
“There, that’s the last one.” Meredith put her hands on her hips and examined the wall with a critical eye. “I know you weren’t happy with the flash day idea, but what do you think of the wall?”
I hadn’t really paid attention to it while I’d been putting up the frames, but looking at the completed project I could admit it made quite a statement. It wasfuck you, but subtle. It was equal parts appreciation and proving our worth. “You did real good. I like this wall.”
She bowed her head. “Coming from you, that means a lot.”
Dane and Roxy arrived for the day and came over to admire our handiwork. “I fucking love this,” Roxy said.
Dane nodded. “A really smart way to prove the reviews wrong. Verypowerful.”
Meredith beamed under their praise. One by one, the rest of the staff came in for the day and all said the same thing. It wouldn’t get us more customers through the door, but those who came in would know we knew what we were doing.
“Shit, we open in ten minutes,” Roxy said. She yanked off her leather jacket and hung it at her workstation.
There was some drywall dust, as well as tools, plastic and cardboard from the frames and a ladder all in the way. “I’ll get this tidied up,” Meredith said. “You guys go get ready for your clients.”
I moved into my station and started getting ready, grateful for the smell of antiseptic over the enticing smell of Meredith. Whatever perfume she wore was like catnip for me.
Lunchtime rolled around, and I found myself in the staff room with Roxy.
“Good work on the wall, my friend. Appreciate it,” she said, pulling a sandwich and energy drink from the fridge and sitting next to me.
“Thanks, boss.” I hesitated, then went on. “I don’t know about this whole flash tattoo idea, though.”
“What about it, Grasshopper? Tell your Sensei.” She took a big bite of her food and flashed me a crooked grin.
I snorted a laugh. “Well, I don’t know. It feels like selling out, or something. Doing cookie-cutter tattoos repeatedly all day. Doesn’t it feel wrong?”
She shook her head. “You’re loyal to your art, I get it, but remember a few things. One, it is the customers’ choice what they get put on their body and two, not everyone wants to be a walking work of art. Some want words that mean something to them or goofy little drawings to make them smile. Art isn’t just one thing, right? You’ve got the Sistine Chapel but you’vealso got abstract Picasso and graffiti under an overpass.”
I mulled this over. She was right. Of course, she was. I may have had my preferences for what kind of art I did, but that didn’t mean the other kinds didn’t exist. “Yeah, that makes sense.”
She nodded. “Good. Don’t become an art snob. At the end of the day, you poke people with a needle for a living and make them less employable. Not really our place to judge, you know what I mean?”
I laughed. “This is why you are the Sensei.”
“Now you’re getting it.”
