“So, then he. . . ." I walked back into the shop, trying to listen to Jez’s tales of her adventures without wincing. "Seriously, Shane has the longest tongue!" It sounded like he knew his way around the female form, but he was Gabe’s employee. “And then he stuck his tongue right up my. . . ." I shuddered, I wasn’t sure I could look him in the eye when he turned up after what she'd just told me.
"Sounds," I looked her over to make sure I'd guessed her response right, "great?"
“So good. So, so good."
"Well, that's good."
"Yeah, maybe you, me, Gabe and Shane go out on a date or something. Like we did with the McAllister brothers in high school." Yeah, I remembered. They thought we were up for a foursome. Ew.
"Sure, where is Gabe, anyway?"
I found him standing by one of the tattoo stations. Someone had put on some pumping tunes and the tinny buzz of tattoo guns provided a slight counter beat. The shop had filled up, there were people everywhere, lined up against the walls nursing drinks and others fighting to make a circuit of the place. And then there was a couple of people getting tattoos. One guy was getting a small piece on his bicep. The other? Flea was tattooing the breast of a girl who made the Suicide Girls look positively plain. She'd attempted some modesty by leaving her bra and strappy singlet covering the other breast and holding a hand over her bare nipple, but by the look of the guys surrounding her, it didn't seem to matter. And who was standing right at her elbow, eyes taking in every inch of her lithe form, but Gabe.
"There he is," Jez said lamely.
"Suddenly, I'm not sure I care," I said. I turned to the closest waitress and waved her over, swiping a couple of shot glasses of tequila from her tray, handing two to Jez.
"Who's driving?" she asked.
"I'll get a cab if I need to. Bottoms up." I felt the familiar burn of pure alcohol spread through my chest. "That's the stuff."
"Well, now you're fortified, go and talk to him."
"Who?"
"Gabe, and you know exactly who I'm talking about."
"Hmm."
"Go on, no way to find out what's going on unless you talk to him."
"Maybe I don't want to talk to him."
"Go."
"Fine," I flounced over to the crowd, having to push past some disgruntled guys who didn't look they were as keen to see me get my tits tattooed, but they let me through. I appeared across the bench from Gabe, my eyes dropping to where her hand was nestled in his.
I rocked back on my heels, taking the two of them in. She had long, dyed, pastel pink hair that spun like fairy floss in a halo around her head. She had the kind of slim body that I'd seen a million times in magazines and on the internet and always wanted. And she was no cutesy Barbie, she had lots of tattoos, ones that looked like beautiful Japanese prints, all over her and an elaborate gold ring in her nose. She’s who he should be with, I thought, my stomach sinking, they look perfect together.
"You're done, love," Flea said, pulling his gun back and giving the tattoo a wipe over with a cloth.
"Woo!" The girl said, sitting straight up and punching the air with her tiny fist, most of the guys’ eyes dropping to her now bare breast. "Thanks, honey, you made that a lot more bearable," she said to Gabe.
"You up next?" Flea asked Gabe.
He answered by pulling off the white Bonds t-shirt he was wearing, dropping it on the floor and lying down on the padded bench. The girl's jaw dropped as she took in his well-muscled chest. Evidently, she'd had the same thought I'd had. "Maybe I can hold your hand this time," she said, having restored her singlet.
"Right here, mate," he said, patting the patch of skin over his heart.
"What you after?" Flea asked.
"The spiky heart with the banner cutting across it," he said, pointing to an image on the wall.
"Yeah? Not really in keeping with the rest of your art. What script do you want?" Flea asked.
"Ash," he said. Flea’s head jerked up, meeting my eyes. His eyebrow slowly rose and I could see the implied question there.
"You sure about that, mate?"