Uncharacteristically eager, actually. I know I’m not jealous or anything, since I just had a hookup through Grindr the other night, so what would I be jealous about?
But for some reason I just really want to know when they’re going to see each other next.
“Just a regular week for me,” Alexander says brightly.
I shake my head and push the other thoughts aside. It must just be a weird mood from waking up early. “Thanks again for the coffee.”
Alexander hesitates, then leans forward and plants a kiss on my cheek. “Have fun at the tattoo studio, weirdo. Tell Stone I say hi.”
I lean up and kiss him on the cheek back. “Will do.”
And just that is enough, actually, for everything to settle again. I pop the earbud in, smile to myself, and disappear back into drawing.
* * *
When I get to Blade a few hours later, Stone is walking a client out, a woman with long gray hair and wild animals inked on her arms. Stone pushes his shaggy hair back with one hand, nodding to welcome me in. He’s dressed in a pair of jeans and a worn black T-shirt, and he scuffs his gray Converse against the tile floor as we walk into the dimly lit shop.
Metal music fills the reception area, loud on the speakers, and Stone grabs his phone to turn it down while I look around, admiring the work framed on the brick wall. Alexander and I came in together to get our friend tattoos from Stone, but looking at the place now, it’s like I’m seeing it for the first time again. The art on the walls is fascinating to me, and my brain starts working over the illustrations.
“So, you’re thinking about tattooing?”
“You know how Matty can get an idea stuck in your head,” I say, and Stone chuckles, his eyes lighting up when I mention his boyfriend. “But yeah, I’m considering it. I’ve actually always appreciated tattooing. I guess I just never had a chance to consider it something I actually could do myself, if that makes sense.”
“I know what you mean. I taught myself for years before I broke into the profession. Like I said the other day, you’ve got one hell of a hand. That’s not all there is to it, but it’s a good start.” He plays with his phone for a second, and the music picks up, although not quite as loud as before. Then he walks toward the back. “Anyway, any tattoo shop that hires you, they’ll just have you cleaning and bookkeeping to start.”
I wrinkle my nose as I follow him into the shop. “You sound like Alexander.”
Stone chuckles, his voice low and rough. “Well, you would have to learn to wash your hands,” he deadpans.
I look down and see that my fingers are covered in black and blue ink. “You’re saying I don’t fit in better this way?” I joke as we step into his room, then drop my backpack on the ground. Stone’s work is framed on the walls, an art show in its own right, and I pause when my eyes catch on the pieces. “Fuck, you’re talented,” I say.
“Aw, thanks.” Stone rubs the back of his head. “You know Caesar, the guy who started Blade? He’s been talking about opening a second location. If that happens, we might actually bring on some more artists down the road. I can’t promise that I’ll get you a spot or anything, but if you decide you’re curious, I can at least teach you a few things to get you started.”
“I am really curious how it feels, inking someone,” I admit, then move my hand through the air. “Since Matty mentioned tattooing the other day, I actually keep thinking about it. I watched about a million YouTube videos.”
Stone grunts. “Cool,” he says. “You probably know the basics, then.”
I hop back, sitting on the long tattooing chair. “Isn’t it kind of scary?” I ask. “Not being able to make a mistake, I mean.”
Stone chuckles. “You know, weirdly, that was one of the things that attracted me to the work. There’s a high to it. But you find your focus. In the end, that’s one of the best things tattooing gives me. Focus.”
I bite my lip. I haven’t totally sold myself on the idea of trying to be a tattoo artist, but now that I’m here and listening to Stone talk, looking at the work on his walls again, it all just seems so right. There’s something about the combination of the art and the people that calls to me. Every piece is so intimate and unique, and in the photos around Stone’s work space, so are all the people sporting his ink.
I look down at my ink-stained hands. Then I think about my bank balance, which I’ve been avoiding checking.
Maybe Alexander really would help me get to work on time, if I tried for something like this. It’s embarrassing to even think that, but I do think it.
I believe in my art, but all my work is still sitting in the gallery, not selling, and none of the local magazines have written about it. What if I’m just not talented enough, no matter how hard I try? Or worse, what if I work to become a tattoo artist only to fail all over again?
“We’ll start with the basics?” Stone asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
I nod. “Yeah,” I say. “I want to learn.”
CHAPTERFIVE
ALEXANDER
When I get homeafter a long day at the library, Rafael is sitting in the middle of our living room, various large fruits spread across the floor in front of him, bananas and a couple melons. He’s got a tattoo machine poised in his hand. His legs are spread wide in front of him, and Madame President paws an orange between his feet.
