Sunflowers and Ink

Part 1: Chapter 3

Josselin may have taken the evening off, but the rest of the artists didn't, and, his assistant, Sara, was still in her swivel chair at the front desk while the two other artists, Christian and Dante, worked on clients. A young woman with a neck tattoo sat in a waiting chair flipping through an art book. Josselin smiled and waved at Sara, who grinned back and gave him a thumbs up. He rolled his eyes, but didn't miss Meara's blush. Christian and Dante were too busy to bother giving him a hard time.

Josselin led Meara into the back room and up the stairs, where he unlocked a small, unassuming door. The apartment was narrow but sprawling, taking up half the width of the building below but the entire length, Meara's store included. It smelled of sandalwood and sage and patchouli.

Josselin flipped the light on and led Meara through a small hallway into the kitchen.

"I'll just have coffee," Meara said. "I have to take the bus home."

"Fair enough," Josselin said. "If something changes, I can also get you a cab."

Meara offered a nervous, tentative smile and looked around the kitchen. It was the kind of kitchen made for cooking but clearly Josselin didn't use it much, because there were only two pans, a pot, and a spatula hanging on the wall and the stove was too clean to have been used regularly by someone who worked such long hours. Josselin pulled a tin out of one of his cabinets and started the coffee. When he put it back, Meara glimpsed a bottle of amaretto.

"Oh, no, you have amaretto?" he laughed.

Josselin turned around.

"Amaretto in my coffee is my biggest vice."

Josselin smiled and pulled down the bottle. "Help yourself," he said.

Meara wasn't sure whether he was a lightweight or whether he just drank a lot faster than Josselin because the older man was sipping at a tumbler of whiskey while he could barely taste his alcohol and had gone through half a pot of coffee. Either way, he was warm and he was relaxed enough to blurt out, "Can I see your chest piece?"

Josselin's cheeks were a little warm. What Meara had lost track of and thought was his first cup was actually his second, and he was starting to get a little drunk. I won't get drunk drunk, he told himself. He would retain some of his decorum.

But not enough to deny Meara's request. He laughed and pulled off his shirt, pushing his hair out of his face when the collar knocked it into his mouth. Meara's breath caught.

Josselin was skinny and had very little muscle, but his skin was soft and pale, nearly a translucent white beneath the dark blue ink of his Triple Goddess tattoo. Something else that looked like a candle flame peeked out on his hip above the waistband of his jeans, but Meara knew better than to ask to see it. He wasn't that drunk.

The tattoo was simple, just dark blue lines and blocking, with no extra decoration. But the lines were smooth and perfect without a bump or blemish to be found.

"It's really nice," Meara said. He took a sip of his fourth cup of coffee. "Also, you are very hot."

Josselin snorted into his whiskey and put it down on the side table. They'd relocated into the living room on the old black couch Sara had given him when she'd moved into her new place. It faced the windows, which looked back on the alley behind the tattoo parlor. It wasn't much of a view, but at least it let in a lot of sun, and he could see the moon when it was out. Various sun catchers and wind chimes hung in the window, casting and reflecting colored light across the dingy brown carpet.

"I might be a little drunk," Meara admitted.

"I'd say so." Josselin smiled. "You want to get going home? I can call you a cab."