“Nice,” he said, looking the can over. He moved over to the cement sheet walls, letting me go to spray a couple of experimental lines on them. I took a seat on a low concrete wall near the mural site. He nodded his head and then said, “Alright, let’s roll some green on for the background.”
“Aren’t the flames red?” sandy hair said.
“Nope, green, poison lime green.”
Dark hair shrugged. “I’ll see what’s in the car.”
“That’s Scott,” Flea said, sitting down by me and pointing to the sandy-haired guy. “The other one’s Meeks.” Scott lifted a hand and waved at me. “This is Tess.”
“Your new girlfriend?” Scott said. Flea’s eyes went down to where my hand and his were just touching but was saved from answering by Meeks returning with paint tins and rollers. “This is Tess,” Scott said, gesturing to me.
They didn’t say much as the three of them got to painting the two flat sheets of cement, not really bothering to do a perfect job, just getting the colour on. Why became immediately apparent as Flea began to work with a black spray can. He flipped off the nozzle provided, picking up a replacement from the box. He shook it as he looked at the bare green space and then after pulling on a respirator; he started to paint.
Dark lines slowly revealed his design, one that could have been a complement to the tattoo he had shown me today. Familiar green licking flames appeared; storm clouds were sketched in using blends of dark grey and purple and off to one side was the sprawling form of Miazydar, a picture of writhing strength, hanging mid-air and ready to strike. “Your dog likes art?” Meeks said as my dragon got to his feet. He moved over to the artwork, sitting behind where Flea worked, watching the whole process.
“Ah, yeah.”
“I’ve never seen an animal do that before. Must like Flea,” Scott said.
“He rents the space next to our shop, so he sees him all the time.”
“Oh, so you’re that Tess,” Scott said.
“What does that mean?” I said, but Meeks just shot his friend a look, shaking his head slightly.
“I’m gonna get a drink. You want a beer, Tess?” Scott asked.
I didn’t want a beer; I hate the taste of beer. Sour, fermented yuck, but I need something to do with my hands. I’d barely spoken twenty words to Flea, never met his friends before and was feeling completely out of my depth. Miazydar came and sits by my feet, his soft silky coat on my skin instantly soothing me. “Yeah, sure.”
As Scott disappeared inside, more people came outside. A few guys drifted over to watch Flea paint, talking to others about how they think it’ll turn out before going out onto the cement slab to smoke. The sickly sweet smell of spray paint filled the air. Then a bunch of girls emerged, giggling and struggling to stay upright. Two of them just walk on past, one waving to the guys smoking with their friends. The other pulled up short, looking at the mural, then Flea. I recognised the blue-dyed hair and long limbs. It was Sable.
“Oh, my god!” she yelped, her hands going to her face as if she was trying to keep the shriek in. “That’s…” her hand shook as she pointed to the artwork. Flea turned around, obviously wondering what the fuss was and she launched herself into his arms. He yanked down the respirator, trying to step backwards out of her grip, but she just bounced up and down, making inarticulate squeaking noises. Scott reappeared, taking in Sable and her incoming friends with a smile.
I could see why. Sable’s friends were equally as gorgeous: long flowing hair, tiny little denim shorts or minis and many, many tattoos. My mother hated it, but full sleeve tattoos on young women wasn’t a big thing anymore. I looked down at my own slightly freckled skin for a moment, rubbing my hand along it. My beer was redeployed into the hands of the new girls. I looked down, rubbing my hand over Miazydar’s head. I must look like the world’s worst dog owner, but I rarely patted him. It was something he really only tolerated when I needed it the most. He looked up at me and said; They do not compare with you.
It’s not about comparison, I replied. I looked up where Sable’s friends now had their arms around Scott and Meeks. I envied the easy way some people seemed to be able to just mesh with others. They are them and I’m me. One’s not better than the other, it’s just different.
Well, I for one am glad my rider is considerably quiet by comparison. That screeching noise they are all making is quite hard on my ears in this form.
I’m sorry. We’ll head home soon. I only came because Ash was hassling me and where is she now? Why do people always do that? They get so caught up on you coming to some event and then you never see them for the rest of the night. She wouldn’t even know if I was here or not. We could be at home, reading a good book.
I like it when you read to me. It reminds me of things from home.
Do you miss it? We can go back through the gate again. I need to head back to the Celestial Record.
Sometimes. Your world is very…busy by comparison. It would be nice to stretch my wings.
Then we will. It’s Sunday tomorrow, so the shop’s closed. We’ll slip through early. I’ll let Ash know before we leave. Miazydar laid his head down on the concrete, seeming more relaxed than I’d seen him in days.
“It’s not yours.”
I zoned back in, seeing Sable and Flea looking almost like they were arguing.
“Uh, I’ve got a full back piece that says otherwise. I asked you specifically to design me something one of a kind, something that no one else has,” she said, her voice beginning to rise.
“Lady, I did just that. I’ve never tattooed that design before, on anyone. It’s not on my flash sheets; it’s not in any of the magazines I’ve been featured in. It’s a new design and I have already retired it. No one else will ever have it on their skin.”
“So why are you saying it’s not mine? You designed it for me.”