“Do you want to do something different?”
“No. I’ve been here since I was seventeen. I love it.” She tapped a code on the door. “Most of the time.” She backed into the door, swinging it open for him.
“What about you? I mean I know where you work, but do you love it?”
“I own my own place and don’t answer to anyone. Works for me.”
“Doesn’t surprise me.”
Two round tables and an old picnic table filled the room. A pair of vending machines and an ancient fridge lined the back wall. She set his bag down and went to a small locker tucked behind the door. “Soda?”
“Yeah, diet whatever.” She pulled out money, cro
ssed to the machines and set two bottles of Diet Coke on the scarred table. “What doesn’t surprise you?”
“You don’t seem like you’re a rules kinda guy.” She hooked her leg through the bench-style seat of the picnic table.
He unloaded their food. “I tried the employee thing. I even apprenticed for five years at a studio, but Chuck wasn’t interested in doing anything but the tats in the books.” He peeled back the paper and, finding sauce, slid it her way. “None of his own art. I was getting more clientele than him by the end.” He shrugged. “It was easier to leave than ruin a friendship.”
She unrolled her grinder carefully, her eyes closing as the scents of garlic and sweet marinara sauce floated up between them. “Jealousy has a nasty side effect.”
He grunted. Both for her visceral reaction to the food and his past. A reputation was all an artist had in the tattoo business. He did the trade shows, even inked a few celebrities when he’d lived in Boston. But he liked having his own place. Close enough to go into the city for conferences but far away enough that he could take it easy and hone his craft. He’d built up a good name, but his space was small. Just him and Cesar.
She tore off a quarter of the sandwich and lifted it to her mouth just as a chime came from her hip. “Dammit.” She put it down, licking the tips of her fingers. “Just five minutes, that’s all I ask.”
“You’re allowed a break, Darcy.”
“Yeah, tell that to Gary.”
“I will.”
She looked up, her deep green eyes wide with surprise. She glanced back down at her tablet and tapped something before tucking it back into the bag at her side.
“Staying?”
“He can handle it. We have things to discuss.”
He tried to hide his smile.
“No smirking. I did it for work.”
“Of course.”
She took a big bite and muffled what sounded like an ode to Lou before swallowing. “So, tell me what’s going on for the rest of the day. Miriam’s bugging me hourly for an update.”
“I got what I needed from a few stores. Once I’m done with the gear and program the lights, we’ll be in business.”
She pulled a little notebook out of her pocket, this time with a pen. “How do the music and the lights work?”
“I can program the lights with most songs. It works with the beats. I hardwire it into the music that plays on the overhead and tell it only to recognize certain songs.”
“Really?” She picked at a meatball and wrapped it in a string of cheese before popping it in her mouth.
He grinned, rubbing at the corner of his mouth that mirrored where extra sauce settled on her.
She blushed and picked up a wad of napkins.
Too bad.