“I’m serious. Not even Annie.”
“Well, I guess I should feel special then.”
“Oh, you should definitely feel special. I don’t do this shit for just anyone.” He winks, but I don’t return the good humor.
“Are you sure she’s going to be okay with this?”
“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t she be? You’re her friend, and it is kind of my job.”
I shake my head. “I saw how she lost her shit at your opening. I’m not sure I’m ready to poke the beast again so soon.”
“What’s there to be mad about? We’re just two friends grabbing a bite while my head is buried between your milky thighs, and your sweet, yet oh-so-tiny black thong stares back at me.”
“Oh my god! You know I’d probably punch you for that if you weren’t holding a tattoo gun that could mark mymilky thighspermanently.”
“I figured this was the only time I could get away with it.” He chuckles darkly and bends his head over said leg. His hot breath washes over my lady bits and I have to suppress the urge to tilt my hips toward him. “Annie will be fine. Besides, a man’s gotta eat.”
Another laugh escapes me, and Gabe sinks his fingers into my flesh. “Quit wriggling, or this is gonna look less like the picture I drew up and more like the fucking hack job you already had.”
Someone raps on the shop door and Gabe sets his gun down and strips off the nitrile gloves, tossing them into a trashcan by his station. He gets up and disappears around the sleek, black partition.
“Hey, man. Thanks for the food.”
“No problem,” another voice says.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What the hell are you doing? I’m with a client.”
“That’s okay, I won’t stay long.”
“Why are you staying at all?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” comes a hushed reply. “You never tattoo after hours.”
“Bình, I appreciate the food but—”
An Asian guy with silver hair, violet contacts, and Sailor Moon tattoos covering every inch of his ropey arms moves around the partition. He’s cute, which makes me think that all Gabe’s friends need to be hot to make the list. The newcomer gives me an appreciative once over and the cheekiest smile I’ve ever witnessed pops out against his features. “Hey.”
“Dude!” Gabe says, carrying a bag of takeout.
“Hi?” I laugh and give him a nervous wave.
“Lo, this is Bình.”
“Nice to meet you,” Bình says, holding out his hand for me to shake. I reach out, but Gabe knocks his hand out of the way before we connect.
“Nope!”
I laugh. “What?”
“He doesn’t want us to shake hands,” Bình says. “Must feel threatened by me.”
“I see the way you’re looking at her, asshole. And we’re not going down that road again.”
“What road?” I ask.
Bình rolls his eyes. “So, this dickweed fresh from the plantation in Charleston moves into my one-bedroom apartment.”
“Isle of Palms.”