“I’ll be back down with Rip and some steaks in a bit,” I said. “Enjoy the rest of your evening!”
I could hear her humming the Kiss song while I headed outside and took the stairs to the second floor. Inside, Rip was already home and busying himself by putting up some shelves in the kitchen. Shirtless and with a tool belt hanging off his hips, he looked even sexier than usual, if that were possible.
I stopped myself from jumping on him right there and riding his cock in the middle of the kitchen. Rip was an animal in the sack, but with my sexual appetite, I knew I couldn’t indulge every one of my urges. Most of the time, I’d get hot and worked up just by looking at him, then rush out the door to release the energy with some stranger. Keeping things casual had worked for years between us, and there was no reason to switch it up in Seattle.
Rip turned over his shoulder, glancing at me. “There’s my roomie. You out chasing guys?”
I tossed the bag of groceries on the counter. “Just shopping. And getting rejected from every piercing job I could find in town. But I did get a little flirtation in with a geek at the comic shop.”
He set the drill he was holding on the counter and wiped his hands on his jeans. “It’s been a while since you had a fling with a nerdy guy. It usually puts you in a good mood for weeks.”
I laughed, then threw my arm around his shoulder and pulled him into a light headlock to muss up his hair. “He had glasses,” I joked, then released him with a playful shove. “You know I’m a sucker for glasses.”
“Well, good news, I think I found a studio I can use to set up my tattooing practice. They’ve got a pretty regular supply of walk-ins, too, so I should start taking home cash pretty quick.”
“That is good news,” I said. “Especially since I just splurged on steaks for me, you, and Grace.”
“For Grace, too?” he asked, his eyes lighting up. “That’s nice, Mars.” He stepped forward, then pressed his forehead against mine. I lingered there for a minute, feeling his heat, then stepped back.
Of course that would be Rip’s reaction. He wouldn’t act frustrated that I hadn’t found a job or that I’d blown some of the cash we saved up on a fancy meal. He was just happy that I was thinking of his aunt.
And that was the thing about Rip. He was good like that, through and through. Sure, we met at a pretty rough period in each of our lives, and he’d made plenty of reference to things he’d done that he regretted. I’d seen him get violent a few times, too, back in the day, but only when he was cornered and needing to defend himself or fight for someone else. I probably would have gone down a much darker path, if he hadn’t found me trying to sell weed and taken me under his wing.
“Do you know where the cast iron skillet is?” I asked him, lifting the bag with the steaks. “I want to sear these and serve them with some potatoes. You think Grace will like it that way?”
“However you make them,” he said, “I’m sure she’ll be happy.”
RIP
Aunt Grace and I sat at her kitchen table, mugs of coffee full in front of us. We were huddled close together so that I could show the pictures on my phone, and it reminded me of when I was a kid and we’d stay up late watching movies on the loveseat together.
“This is the room that I’ll work out of,” I said, showing her the little studio. There were brick walls and some scattered tattooing supplies, not much else, but I thought you could still get a feel for the place.
“I’ve got some old concert posters buried in the back of the closet,” she said, humming to herself quietly. “Maybe you could use them to decorate?”
I leaned forward, then planted a kiss on the top of her head. “That sounds perfect, Aunt Grace.”
Still, no matter how good it felt to be back in the same place as her, my heart ached a little that I couldn’t just drive her down to the tattoo studio and see the place in person. Any deviation from her regular routine threatened to send her spinning, although I hoped that would change in time and with the extra support I could offer being home.
“Once I’m settled in and you’re feeling better, maybe I could lure you down to the shop? Give you a little new ink?”
Aunt Grace laughed, then traced her fingers along the flowers tattooed on her biceps. An old T-shirt hung loosely off of her shoulders, and I noticed that she had taken the time to paint her nails a bright red since we last spoke. “Maybe,” she said. “I haven’t updated my look in quite a while.”
“Keep those ladies at the pool league on their toes,” I joked.
We kept chatting for a while at the table. I shared some more photos and told her about my work in Detroit, and she occasionally piped in with a story from our past. We danced around the difficult subjects, from my mother rejecting us to the men who had dragged Aunt Grace down over the years. After a while, though, I realized it was time to start talking about the breakdown.
“I’m really glad to be here,” I said. “And I think Mars is already falling in love with Seattle. But I didn’t move across the country for his dating life. Are you sure there’s not more I could start doing to help you out, Aunt Grace?”
“You’re already helping cover my rent and utilities, Rippy,” she said. “You should just enjoy yourself and get settled.”
I furrowed my brow. “Aunt Grace, how many times did you answer the door at midnight when I had to flee one of Mom’s rages? How many times did you pick me up at the police station as a teenager so she wouldn’t find out the trouble I’d gotten into? You were going through your own hard times then, and you still helped me.”
“We’re family, Rip. What else was I supposed to do?”
“Exactly,” I pointed out.
Aunt Grace lifted her coffee, then took a sip. It crossed my mind that she should probably drink less caffeine, but it probably helped her avoid her vices.
