“Okay, and that’s my cue to puke and leave.” I turn, but Joint Guy reaches out to stop me.
“No, don’t go. I apologize for my friend being a douche. You want a hit?”
“Apology accepted.” I smile and take the joint from him, pressing it to my lips, pulling back on the split and inhaling the sweet smoke.
“So, which booth are you with?”
“Er, The Family Business. Though I’m just a friend, helping them out.”
“No shit? Really? Gabe Laurier is the reason I got into tattooing.”
I grin. “No way.”
“Yeah, he did my first, and I was kinda hooked.”
“Well, he is the best.”
“You got anything by him?”
“I do, but I only show it to boys who get me naked.” I wink.
“Great, I can’t wait to see it later.”
I laugh and take another puff of the joint he passes to me.
“Lo? What the fuck are you doing?”
I turn. Gabe is standing behind me, his shoulders tense and his face pinched, jaw set. “Um, taking a break. Gabe, this guy is like your biggest fangirl.”
Gabe eyes the two wannabes and turns his glare back on me. “We’re getting ready to pack up.”
“Hey, man. Good to see you,” the cute one says, holding his hand out for a bro fist bump. Gabe just glares and looks back at me. I give him the wide-eyed “don’t be a total douche” face and he inhales sharply through his nose and manages a half-assed smile. “Hey.”
“I’m sure you don’t remember, but you inked me about four years ago.”
“Yeah?” Gabe studies his face as if trying to place him and the cute guy pulls up his shirt and gives us his back. There’s a day del a morte tattoo spanning the width of this back. She’s stunning, done in grayscale with the most exquisite shading.
“Ah, the Lana Del Rey tat. I remember you. She’s looking great.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty stoked with how she healed up,” he says and turns back around. “I was just telling your girlfriend here how you inspired me to start my own studio here in Tahoe.”
“No shit, really?”
“Yeah, man. Of course.”
“Well, thanks. I’m honored.”
“Listen, are you guys in the area long? I’d love to take you and your crew out for drinks later.”
I spark up, because I love drinks. We all do. “That sounds—”
“Nah, we got plans. Sorry, man.”
I arch a quizzical brow at my best friend—who is apparently also a liar. “We do?”
“Yeah, you don’t remember that thing we were doing?”
I shake my head, but Gabe throws his arm around my shoulder and whispers against the shell of my ear. “I seem to recall you promising us a movie marathon.”