Wood (A True Lover's Story #2) - A.E. Via Page 0,117

deprived?”

“That’s just great,” Trent mumbled, pointlessly shooting some characters on the screen that were standing around doing nothing.

“So what did you do to get thrown in the doghouse?” Summer asked.

“Nothing!” Trent barked. “That’s why I’m so pissed. I’m being denied for no damn reason.”

“There’s gotta be something,” Summer said curiously.

“He’s just saying he’s tired.”

Summer laughed. “That’s a pretty damn good reason. If he’s working long hours, shouldn’t you try to be more understanding?”

Trent growled. “Shut up.”

“Fine. I’ll help you out this one time since I’m such a nice person. But I know a surefire way to get you some if you really haven’t done anything wrong.”

Trent was quiet for a minute before he blurted, “Well, spit it out!”

Summer giggled. “You got any Speedos?”

Trent rolled his eyes. “Are you shitting me? A Speedo.”

“Yes! Or something equally as hot.” Summer sighed. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, dude. I mean, it’ll just be you and him there, no one’ll know… but me.”

“Shut up,” Trent muttered. “So should I just put on a pair of drawers that dig in my ass and strut around?”

“Like a motherfucking peacock,” Summer said, then yelled at him to get back in the game. “Hey, shoot those guys!”

Trent’s mind was spinning as he threw a couple of grenades at the enemies on the screen to appease his partner. Could he really do that? Act sexy. He supposed he could, but the real question was would it work? Shit. He didn’t have any sleazy stuff to put on. “What if I don’t have anything to strut in?”

“Easy. Buy something, order something,” she retorted. “With Prime it’ll be there in two days.”

“Two days!” Trent bellowed.

“Damn, man, how long has it been?” Summer asked, laughing so hard he got pissed and disconnected the game on her.

“There. Laugh at that,” he muttered, folding his hands over his chest.

He checked his watch and saw it was almost eight. If he hauled ass, he could get downtown in fifteen minutes. Trent snatched his keys and coat off the hook, not caring he was only in sweatpants and a faded hoodie. Hopefully, he wouldn’t run into anyone.

Chapter Fifty-Four

Wood

Damn, Wood was exhausted. It’d been a long time since he’d worked so hard and was able to reap the rewards for himself. El had done exactly what he said he was going to do. He’d already had a booth arranged for Wood and equipment he could lease-to-own when he arrived. He and Brad had been so excited Wood’s first day there that he’d got a little overwhelmed midway through the afternoon. While he was still confident in his ability to create beautiful images, Wood still had to adapt to a new era of tattooing in 2020. Catching up on the new trends and fads in the art world, then of course the dreaded tutorials he’d had on the importance of social media.

El had wanted to get some of his art uploaded to the website immediately to promote the new team of artists he’d hired, including Wood, for the start of the huge tourist season. El had called Wood his best investment ever knowing Wood’s name, his experience, and his designs would bring in a whole new clientele. And business had already picked up.

“You bet. I’ll talk to him about doing it personally. Speak to you soon,” El said and hung up the shop’s phone.

Wood had his hand on the door, ready to go home for the night. He’d tried to wrap up earlier, he missed Trent. But he’d explained to his partner about the long hours of dedication it would take to rebuild his business to what it once was.

“Another one asking for the man himself.” El came from around the counter.

Wood buttoned his suede coat over his thick sweater, glad to have most of his clothes and personal belongings back. Adam’s family had done an amazing job protecting his things. Jake said after he’d upgraded the storage to climate-controlled units, it’d been fairly easy. Now, after some expensive laundry and dry-cleaning bills later, he had a pretty decent wardrobe. Albeit a bit snugger on his body in some places, but Trent seemed to enjoy it. Trent.

Wood pushed out the front door to wait for his Lyft at the curb, knowing El would follow. “I’ll start soon, okay. I’ve only been observing three weeks. I haven’t tattooed on a body in a very long time—I need for you to stop pressuring me. Are you happy with the designs I’ve been giving you to use on your own