Since Stone and Billie stuck their necks out and gave a loner like me a chance at the shop, it would be rude to just turn down their weekly invitation to beers. And I don’t want to act like an ungrateful douche or come across like some maladjusted serial killer type.
I just can’t deal with friends right now. Or people in general, really. And I’ve got a good book waiting for me back in my blissfully quiet apartment.
“Aw, do I leave right away?” I force a chuckle, then lean against the bar like I’m not about to split. “Funny.”
Stone raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t otherwise move. He and Billie are both covered in tattoos that match the style of work they do, which for Stone means dark, intricate linework, while Billie’s more my style, vividly colorful illustrations.
My mind flashes back to Milo, the friend of Stone’s who came in the other day. Every time I think about him, a flush comes over my skin, and my thoughts scatter, like I just threw a deck of cards into the wind, and now I feel disoriented all over again.
“Actually, fuck it,” I say, then gesture to the bartender. “I’ll do a shot before I go, switch it up. Round on me?”
At least now they can’t say I’m unfriendly. Fifteen bucks with tip is a decent deal for some goodwill.
And for whatever reason, thinking about Milo makes me want toss back some whiskey and grimace.
When I turn back, Stone is still giving me a slightly quizzical look, but then he pushes his shaggy hair behind his ears and lets it go. He’s chill and not a big talker, and I can tell he’s giving me my space while I settle in, which I appreciate.
“Well, if you ever do stick around long enough, you can watch me kick Stoney’s ass at darts later,” Billie tells me. She smiles as she takes her shot, and my jaw tics.
I fucking love darts. And I bet I could give them both a run for their money. It sounds fun, and the last time I thought anything with other people sounded fun was, what, years ago?
“Maybe some time soon,” I answer.
“Hey,” Stone says, “I almost forgot to ask. Milo made it in to see you? How’d the consultation go?”
I spin the shot glass against the wood of the bar. “Good. Picked out a flower and got it on the books. It’s a nice piece. I’ll make it good.”
“I’m sure you will,” Stone says with an appreciative nod.
I grunt under my breath. I’ve always loved tattooing, but back home, back with my father and the family business, it couldn’t be more than a hobby, something to do on the side and keep myself out of trouble. It’s a real skill, which I appreciate, and the permanence means it requires focus in a way I respect, but it lets me show a creative side of myself, too. I started out by inking up some of the workers at the docks after hours, and the habit grew from there.
Work at the docks used to demand most of my attention, but now that I’ve found a way to leave that all behind, I can finally do what I want. And I can’t lie—the validation from Stone and Billie that I’m actually good at it feels pretty fucking nice.
“You know Milo is a friend of Stone’s boyfriend?” Billie asks me. “So don’t worry. He won’t be nosing around your clients usually. He’s just in love-fucking-lala land.”
I snort a laugh, both at the expressions Billie comes up with and the slightly shy, but slightly proud look on Stone’s quiet face. I haven’t met his boyfriend, but after just a month of getting to know Stone, I can tell how serious he is about the guy.
“Like I said,” Stone grunts, then finishes the second half of his shot, “I’ve seen Joey’s work. I know it will be flawless. Otherwise I wouldn’t have made the hire.”
Billie laughs. “I believe hiring Joey was my very good decision,” she says, then winks at me. “Anyway, probably time for you to hit the road, huh?”
I realize my hand is on my jacket again, and instead of being embarrassed about that, I’m just glad she’s giving me an exit. It’s more proof that these two might actually get me, and I feel hopeful for a second that they won’t take it personally when I keep blowing them off.
“Uh, yeah,” I grunt. “Guess I should be going.” I turn to catch Stone’s eye. “And hey, I’ll make sure to give Milo some extra attention.”
His expression relaxes into a half-smile. “Cool, thanks.”
For just a second, my gaze lands on the dart board, and I wish again that I could stay. Back home, I wasn’t out of the closet with my family or at work, and having other gay people around is relaxing for me. Especially knowing everything is chill at work, it’s like I’ve let go of all this fucking tension I’d been carrying between my shoulders for as long as I could remember, since I was a teenager and first started to figure out what kind of man my father actually is and how much I don’t fit into his world.
Back when I first started hiding so many things that even now, it seems like hiding is the only thing I know how to do.
When I step outside, icy Chicago wind whips through the air. The snow is dirty and gray everywhere, and the streetlight on the corner flickers as I pull up the collar of my jacket. We’re just down the street from Blade, and I hurry, my boots slipping on the icy sidewalk, until I reach the shop.
Fishing for my keys, I head through the front and then around the corner to the staircase that leads to my apartment. The shop takes up the entire first floor of the squat brick building, but there’s a one-bedroom above it. I mentioned something about looking for a place during my interview, and when Billie called to offer me a position, she told me about the opening upstairs, too.
I push open the door to the nearly empty apartment, then kick off my boots. I took off in such a hurry when I left Milwaukee, I didn’t bother to bring most of my stuff. But my relationship with my father fell to shit, it wasn’t exactly in my best interest to stick around.
Good thing I like it simple. As long as I have something to read, a full belly, and a warm bed, I’m satisfied.
