He shook his head. ‘No. I met Derek and wanted to bring him…’ heglanced back at the flowers and waved his hand at them. ‘Is he here today?’
‘He’s in the back giving a consultation,’ she said, spelling the last word. ‘I’ll tell him you’re here. Can you wait?’
Basil hesitated. This wasn’t exactly the plan, but he was also barging in on Derek’s work day, so assuming he’d be free at the drop of a hat was unfair. And running again was doubly so. ‘I can wait.’
Katherine grinned at him, but instead of heading to the back, she walked through the low swinging door and moved to the tall bookshelf which held dozens of black photo albums. She studied them all carefully before selecting one near the top, then turned and held it out for him. When he took it, she signed, ‘That’s Derek’s work if you want to have a look. He’s really good.’
Basil fought the urge to remind her that he wasn’t there for a tattoo. He didn’t want to commit some sort of tattoo faux pas and shoot this thing dead before it began. ‘Thank you,’ he finally signed, then sank onto the soft leather couch and opened it to the first page.
His breath immediately caught in his throat. Basil didn’t live in a cave, he wasn’t a complete recluse, and Derek’s tattoo work wasn’t the first he’d ever seen. But it was the first time he’d ever been instantly drawn in and captivated. The work in the book was a mixture of sketches on paper and photographs of people’s bodies, but every single one of them seemed to come alive on the page. They were almost nothing like his work in his gallery, and yet he could see familiarity in all the lines and shapes and shades that it was like looking at a piece of Derek himself.
When someone touched his arm, Basil jumped, staring up almost guiltily as he saw Derek hovering a foot away. He shut the book with what he hoped was a quiet gesture, then rose to his feet feeling a little bit foolish now. Derek’s gaze was welcoming, but a little confused, and Basil couldn’t blame him.
Before Basil could explain, Derek held out a little post-it with a note across the top. Was something wrong with Kevin?
Basil couldn’t help but smile at the name for such an elegantcreature, and he shook his head. He pulled out his phone and quickly typed his reply. I’m want to tell thank you, bring bouquet you.
He watched Derek smile at the message and give a startled glance to the vase on the table, and Basil became distinctly aware that Derek hadn’t once attempted to question or correct his terrible English in writing. Basil could do it—he was a college graduate and had gotten by just fine in all his writing exams, but switching in his head from ASL to English was just more effort than he ever wanted to make, and sticking somewhere closer in the middle was just easier.
Hearing people always wanted him to do better, but Derek had simply accepted it for what it was. He hadn’t tried to dumb down his own writing either, like so many people did who assumed that because Basil didn’t write it the same way, he couldn’t understand it. It meant something, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for that.
When he finally looked back at Derek, the other man was smiling, then tipped his hand from his chin. ‘Thank you. Beautiful.’
Basil felt his cheeks flush, and he reached over to pat the tattoo book and repeated the sign, exaggerating it in hopes Derek would understand exactly what that meant. ‘Very beautiful.’
Derek’s blush matched his own, and he ducked his head a little shyly, shrugging off the compliment. He held up his hand for a second, then rushed over to where Katherine was sitting, and leaned fully over the counter. Basil couldn’t help himself from taking in a full view of the man’s ass—gloriously round and looked like it would comfortably rest in both of his palms—before Derek eased back down to the floor and returned with a small notepad and a pen.
Is this okay?
Basil grinned and shrugged, spreading his fingers and tapping his thumb on his chest while mouthing, ‘Fine.’
Derek scribbled again. Do you want a tour? I don’t have any clients until three. I can show you my stall and my works in progress.
Basil hated that he couldn’t just sign, but it was what it was. Hetook the pen from him to answer. Your art here? You keep here? Paintings?
Derek shook his head. I have my art studio in my apartment, this is just my tattoo work. It’s fine if you’re not interested.
Basil quickly grabbed his arm and shook his then signed, ‘Show me,’ hoping he made the right form with his lips.
Derek seemed to understand, because he blushed shyly again, but reached for the swinging door and held it open, gesturing for Basil to step inside. He did, feeling a little like a fish in a bowl with the way Katherine was watching him, and he was suddenly and profoundly grateful no one else was there working.
He turned to see Derek securing the door, then he looked up and smiled so sweetly, it made Basil’s chest ache. He took a moment to gather himself, then followed Derek to the first little cubby which was sectioned off by three waist-high partition walls to give a small amount of privacy on the sides. Within the partition walls was something that looked like a folded massage table, a desk with a bright drawing board, then a massive tool box covered in various, brightly decorated stickers. Along the far wall was a pin board and it was covered from end to end with all of Derek’s work.
‘Wow,’ Basil signed as he leaned toward the drawings. He turned to Derek and pointed at him, then at the wall and dipped his brows. ‘Yours?’
Derek nodded, looking shy all over again. What’s the sign for flower?
Basil showed him and smiled when Derek copied it almost flawlessly. Holding a finger up, Derek turned to a small cabinet in the corner of his stall and came away with another book. It was a large, leather-bound sketch book, and he motioned for Basil to take a seat while he plopped down onto a backless rolling stool.
For a second, it felt a little like a dentist’s office, and then he looked up into Derek’s soft, smiling face and suddenly it felt like the most intimate thing Basil had done in years. Derek shifted closer,until he was right alongside Basil, and he spread the book over their thighs which had pressed together.
Basil couldn’t help the way his breath caught in his chest, stuttering in his lungs. The first page was a cascade to rival even the hanging gardens of Babylon. The outlines of the sketches were pencil, and watercolor decorated each and every bursting blossom, covering so much of the page that the bits of white left over were almost startling.
He couldn’t help himself, he traced around the edges of the bright reds, and blues, and oranges with the tip of his finger as though he might be able to somehow feel the petals. He looked up at Derek, and he saw something in his eyes akin to fear or insecurity that Basil couldn’t allow.
He scrambled for the paper which Derek had set on his desk and scribbled furiously. I don’t know arts, but this…Derek. So beautiful, it make chest hurt, want tears fall. He pressed the center of his palm to where his heart was thudding rapidly against his ribs and made sure he was meeting Derek’s gaze fully. ‘Beautiful,’ he signed.
Swallowing thickly, Derek acknowledged this with a nod of his head, then turned the page to show more of his work. The first few were more flowers, a few birds, a stretch of mountains. The rest were in something like art nouveau, something you’d see in a gallery, and Basil couldn’t imagine how he could transfer that onto someone’s skin.
