I see he’s a little tense, nervous around Caesar like I used to be and, hell, still am sometimes. But the smile on my boyfriend’s face tells me that he’s proud, too, and I stand a little prouder next to him while Caesar admires the work.
My boss turns his eyes to me. “Come in early Monday.”
“Oh, sure. Is something happening?”
“You’ll be doing the walk-ins from now on,” he answers.
Alexander and I exchange a glance, and a thrill hits me like lightning. Holy shit, I’m going to be a real tattoo artist. It took an entire year to impress Caesar, but it’s actually, finally happening.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice jumping. “Caesar, thank you so much.”
“It’s fine,” he answers, seemingly annoyed by my enthusiasm, then adds his standard line. “Just don’t fuck it up.”
“I won’t let you down,” I promise, and I’m relieved that I’m at a point in my life when I can say that and truly, honestly mean it.
Caesar grabs a couple of things from the front, then takes off again, his motorcycle rumbling outside. The second he’s gone, Alexander cheers and grabs my hands. “You’re a tattoo artist!” he laughs. “I mean, you already were, but now it’s official!”
I shake my head. “I’m still kind of shocked,” I say, then start laughing. “Oh my god, I’m going to make real money!”
“Yay!” Alexander cheers again, and we both laugh.
He shoots his eyes around. “We have to celebrate,” he says. “This is a special occasion.”
“Oh yeah?” I tease, then stroke the side of his face. Tattoos require stringent attention, but as the focus fades, my other desires come back to life. “I can definitely think of a few ways to celebrate.”
Inking my boyfriend always makes me horny, it turns out, but not quite as horny as it makes him.
Alexander bites down on his lip and steps closer, pushing his body to mine. “More than a few,” he flirts.
I glance around the empty shop. It was so intimidating and bewildering when I first walked in over a year ago, but now, I’m warmed by a sense of belonging.
I’m an artist, and I get to spend the rest of my life with the most beautiful person in the world. I’m going to make good money, enough to provide for him like he provides for me, and I’m going to share my illustrations with the world.
“I couldn’t have done this without you,” I tell Alexander. “I hope I tell you that enough.”
“You do,” he answers, then kisses my neck. “Now let’s go home so you can show me, too.”
* * *
Alexander
Six months later…
I rush around the archive, my mind racing as I go over every display a final time. It’s the night before our new exhibit opens, the first that I’ve ever organized entirely on my own, and I’m surprised how nervous I suddenly am.
For months, it all seemed so simple. I tracked down old publications, arranged photographs, set up interviews with experts, and carefully plotted out the history that I want to share with the world. Now that the opening of the exhibit is here, though, I feel the anxious need to double-check every last detail.
“Inked and Proud,” Rafael says, appearing at my side. He’s holding one of the pamphlets for the exhibit, reading the words I carefully chose. “A cultural history of tattooing in the queer community.” He looks up to me, a big smile on his face. “Wow, Alexander. This looks great!”
I smile, then pull him in for a kiss. “You really think so?”
“Definitely.” He gestures around the archive, which is dotted with framed photographs of inked-up queer people, from lesbian bikers to sideshow acrobats and crusty old sailors. “Everyone at the shop is talking about it.”
Rafael’s encouragement has been a big part of my motivation to pull this whole thing together. It’s not just that I want to share the tattooing history that I’ve been uncovering. I love that I’ll be able to get all the historians and academic types to consider something they don’t normally look at, but I’m just as excited to draw some new people into the archives and to let them see the kind of work we do.
My boyfriend pulls out his phone. “There are still more RSVPs coming in for the opening,” he says. “We’re up to two hundred.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Cool,” I nod. “That’s great.”
