“Guilty as charged,” he belted out, loud and proud.
I shook my head, meeting his gaze. “About last night…”
“I know,” he said. “Sorry. It just happened.”
“How does it just happen?” I couldn’t understand how one man could bring home four women. It was absurd.
Gil shrugged, not looking at all apologetic. “It’s the tattoos. Women love that shit.” He held up a spatula. “You want me to make you somethin’ to eat?”
Ignoring the fact that he’d purposely changed the subject, I shook my head. “Thanks, but no.” Not only because I didn’t eat meat but also because I didn’t trust anything Gil cooked. The man was known to toss whatever ingredients he could find into a skillet and call it a meal. “I’ll just take a bowl of cereal.”
“Your loss.” Gil grabbed my favorite bowl from the cabinet, then retrieved the soy milk and the Corn Pops, setting all three down on the bar. “Any luck with the drawing?”
I frowned as I climbed up onto the barstool, pushing my sleeves up my arms. “Nope.”
“Well, don’t get too freaked out about it.”
Easy for him to say. Gil worked in the same tattoo shop I did, but he didn’t have any problems coming up with great art these days. I, on the other hand, had spent the last few weeks taking all of the newbies looking for flash art pieces, because no matter how hard I tried, the inspiration just wasn’t there.
I had been working as a professional tattoo artist for going on seven years. I’d even managed to establish a consistent clientele, but these days, I feared someone coming in and asking for something spectacular because I knew I wouldn’t be able to deliver.
Not only that, but I’d been earning residual income over the years by entering art contests. The next one I had on my radar was looming in the near future, and I knew I didn’t have a chance in hell of making a dime if I didn’t come up with something soon.
Pouring cereal into the bowl while Gil passed a spoon over to me, I watched as he wrapped whatever he’d just made into a tortilla and shoved half into his mouth in one bite.
“You workin’ today?” he asked around a mouthful of food.
I shook my head. “Blaze is covering for me tonight and Charlie’s over there this morning.”
Saturdays at Different by Design were busy. And because of the silly mental block I was dealing with, I’d opted to trade for a slow Sunday afternoon when most people had appointments, and as for any walk-ins, I could take their information and call them back.
“You?” I asked, spooning cereal into my mouth.
“Yep. Got two appointments. One this afternoon and one tonight.”
“What about today? Any plans?” I asked, propping my head up with my hand as I spooned cereal into my mouth.
“Gonna head over to the shop and chill for a while. Helpin’ Shawn if he needs it.”
Shawn Green was DBD’s main body modification artist, known to most as a piercer. Gil had been doing an apprenticeship under Shawn for the past eight months. Though Gil claimed he still preferred to ink, he’d become quite enthralled with the body mod, and Shawn was hoping Gil could help out from time to time.
“Did you get your training class done?” I asked. Gil had mentioned some special class, along with a CPR certification he needed to take care of.
“Next week,” he said before downing half a glass of chocolate milk. “And then, just think…” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then revealed a disturbing grin. “I’m that much closer to piercing your clit.”
I snorted, nearly shooting soy milk out of my nose. “Not in this lifetime,” I rasped, choking. “You will never be allowed near my clit. With a needle or otherwise.”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
The man was incorrigible.
I finished off my cereal and pushed my bowl away. Gil grabbed it, along with the skillet and his glass, rinsed them all, and tucked them into the dishwasher.
“What’re you doin’ this morning?” Gil asked.
“I’m gonna head over to the coffee shop,” I told him, grabbing my sketchbook.
“Is it on the way to the shop?”
I nodded.
“Come on then,” he said. “I’ll walk you.”
A few minutes later, I stopped at the coffee shop, said a quick good-bye to Gil, then made my way to the counter to order my usual sugar-free vanilla soy latte. The woman behind the counter smiled kindly but didn’t say anything other than the usual