Closer

Untitled Part 6

"You got a busy day, Otis?"

"Nah, not really. Hopin' for a couple walk-ins."

"Mm. Those are some nice hickies on your neck."

"Fuck you, Duke." He smirked, rubbing his hand over them, and fixing his hair to hide them.

"Has SHE seen your tattoo?"

"Yeah, she saw me when I first got it done. No, Duke I have sex with my fucking clothes on."

"Hey, some people don't take their shirts off, just bumpin' uglies. I dunno you're into weird shit I thought maybe you'd be like that."

"Hm-mm." Otis shook his head. "No, she's seen it."

"What IS it? Why do you hate it?"

"Because it looks stupid."

"Why? I could fix it for you. You know I wouldn't fuck you over, man."

"Duke...Let it go."

"No, come on man. I...Listen, I wanna help you."

Otis quirked an eyebrow and looked up from his sketch. "What?"

"I want to help you...I...I know you've had it rough...Real rough..."

He paused, unsure if He should go on. Otis began to chew on his pencil, listening.

"And I...I know it's something you're not proud of. And I'd really like to help you feel better about it because I get the feeling you're kind of ashamed of it."

Otis sighed. "It's not..." He growled in frustration. "You're not going to let this go, are you? Do you have any appointments?"

"Not as of yet."

"Fine. Follow me to my room."

Duke obeyed, shutting the door behind him.

"D-don't DON'T SHUT THAT!" If one thing made him nervous, it was another man trapping him in a room with a door closing behind him.

"Whoa, dude...Relax. It's fine."

"J-Just...Stand right there. Don't move."

"What is WITH you? Why're you so weird?"

Otis pulled his shirt over his head, discarding it on his bench.

"Oh, it's not that bad. The lines are a little shaky and it's flat but-" He reached out to touch Otis's chest, becoming slightly unnerved when Otis recoiled a few steps. "What's wrong, man?"

"D...Don't touch me."

"Are you tripping on something?"

"No..."

"What the hell has gotten into you, then? Why're you so paranoid? That tattoo isn't that bad. I can fix that really easily. Come on man. We've been friends for a while, tell me what's going on because I'm worried."

"I-I...I had it rough as a kid..."

"I know that..."

"No...You...You don't know HOW rough..."

Duke took a few steps back, hoping that if he gave Otis a little more space he would calm down.

"Being hit is one thing. That you...The bruises heal and you're still scared of when the next is going to come, but...Duke, there's a reason I won't let you touch me while I have my shirt off."

"Dude, no. Come on man please don't tell me..."

Otis stared at him, praying that he would understand the meaning of what he was saying.

"Shit...Hey I'm really sorry man..."

"When I got out, I was homeless. And I would do just about anything for money. And...I saw this sign outside a tattoo shop. Where a new artist would pay you to let him use your skin to practice. Had a flash sheet you could choose from. So...I went in. And I picked something really small, because I was scared. And...He had me there, in the chair and he...Put this scratchy, stupid weird...skull? On my chest."

"Dude, I'll fix it for you. I'll cover it up. I won't charge you."

Otis slid his shirt back on. "Maybe..."

"What did you pick?"

"I...I think I picked...an anchor? I don't really remember."

"That's definitely not an anchor."

"Glad we got THAT cleared up."

"Seriously. We'll get it fixed up into something you can be proud of, alright?"

"Yeah, sure..."

"Think of it as repaying you for trusting me. I know that wasn't easy to tell me, dude."

Otis shrugged. "Don't tell many people."

"I know. So thanks. Now get back to work."

He snorted. "I was the one actually working. You were just talking shit."

"Yeah, yeah."

"You seen that girl again?"

"You got me to talk about my feelings once, shut the fuck up and let me draw."

"Got it." A long pause, and then he dared to speak again. "Was the sex good?"

"Phenomenal."

"Otis, what did you do to yourself?" Dahlia cooed, pulling his bandage back. "Let me see."

"No!" He pulled away. "It was so stupid...Now I have this forever..."

"Honey..."

"The tattoo shop on the corner gave me money, okay!? I needed food...And I haven't had any customers this week."

"Yes you did, honey..."

"Yeah, well...Madame took my money..."

"Why?! You earned it!"

"Customers weren't satisfied..."

Dahlia sighed, lying next to Otis. "Let me see."

Pulling away the bandage, Otis hung his head in shame. An oddly shaped orb sat in the middle of his chest, two outlines radiating out from it on either side as if they were outlining his pectoral muscle.

"Honey..."

"I got 10 dollars..."

Otis lie in bed beside Dahlia again, taking a drag of his cigarette.

"I didn't know you smoked." She commented.

"Every once in a while. Not often. Just sometimes after sex. Or if someone else is, I'll have one."

"You're still thinking about this whole thing, aren't you?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"I know you well enough."

Another drag. "I...Just don't understand...How this is going to go. Are you here for good or...Are you going to move on and leave me with my dick in the air waving with it? Or are we gonna have a nice little picket fence family Christmas and I'm gonna take you home to my folks and tell them 'hey, this is Dahlia. We used to be whores together!' and be one happy family?"

"I was hoping for 'hey, this is my girlfriend, Dahlia. We go way back.'"

"Both are true."

"Otis, I want you. I want...I want to be WITH you. And I know that scares you but that's my answer. My finite answer. I want to be with you. I want to be Otis Driftwood's girlfriend. Not just your fuck buddy."

"You were never my fuck buddy. You...You kept me safe..."

"Not safe enough."

"Eh, ya win some; ya lose some."

"I know you're still afraid to let your guard down. But take the risk, Otis."

He was never a gambling man. He liked his securities and sureness. He would have to deal with this carefully; a chess game rather than a crap shoot.