The dragonflies tattoist - Freenbecky

Chapter 7

Freen called Becky exactly two days after that night, during her break. She didn't want to make the call when Eve, Jan, or Malee were around since she knew they would make her ridiculously nervous. So, while she was eating reheated food in the back of the studio, she pressed that green button.

Becky answered after two rings.

"Armstrong Art Studio, good afternoon. How can I help you?"

'Whoa!' Freen thought, 'Is this really Rebecca Armstrong talking to me?' She had expected something a bit more casual, more like Becky... 'What the hell do you want?' maybe.

"Am I really speaking to the girl who shamelessly undresses in front of strangers?" Freen joked, and anyone looking into her eyes at that moment would have known she was falling in love.

"Freen?"

She liked talking to Rebecca Armstrong on the phone because that way she could hear the surprised tone in her voice and not feel puzzled by her usual neutral expressions.

When she spoke on the phone, Rebecca Armstrong was human.

"I didn't think you'd actually call." Seriously? Rebecca Armstrong, the one who never seemed to doubt her ability to hypnotize everyone who crossed her path, was surprised by her call? "So I'm twice as happy you did."

A nervous and inevitable smile spread across Freen's lips.

"Are you really happy I called, Becky?" Freen hadn't really expected that. Becky was perfect, and she... Freen was just a simple tattoo artist.

"I was so desperate to hear from you that I would've jumped for joy just seeing your passport photo."

And that's how Rebecca Armstrong made her heart beat painfully.

"Trust me, if you saw my passport photo, you'd jump, but not out of happiness."

"I'm sure it's not that bad..."

"I look like a constipated monkey!" Freen complained through laughter, which only grew louder when Becky mimicked her over the phone. "You, on the other hand, must have come out perfect."

She couldn't imagine Rebecca Armstrong looking bad in a photo, not even in a stupid passport picture.

"I have to admit, I look pretty good," Becky acknowledged, but the tattoo artist could tell by her tone that the painter was just joking.

Silence.

"I suppose you didn't call just to make my day or to talk about passports..." Becky added. Though she didn't sound disappointed, there was a hint less joy in her voice.

"The last time we saw each other, you said you wanted to ask me something..." Freen wasn't going to lie.

"You're right. I did say that." Even though she couldn't see her, Freen knew Becky was smiling, as if remembering her words was reason enough to celebrate.

"What do you want to ask me?" If she was going to get an indecent proposal, she wanted as much time as possible to give her a hard time for it.

"I need you to be my model, baby."

If she hadn't been so surprised, she would have noticed the affectionate nickname Becky had just used.

"What... What do you mean?" But she already knew.

"In a few months, I'm having an exhibition I've decided to call 'Hidden Strangers.' It'll feature different types of societal characters with hidden, peculiar traits... You know, like a dirty chef, a poorly dressed tailor, an obese nutritionist... and a tattoo artist without tattoos... Of course, I promise to keep you anonymous."