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"Anything ever upset you?"
"Yeah." I make my voice dead serious. "Clients ignoring their aftercare routine."
"That's the one thing?"
"Worst thing in the world." I finish wrapping him up. Stand. "Keep it bandaged for a few hours. Wash with warm water and soap. Lots of A&D after. Don't cover it again. And no open water for three weeks."
"If I don't?"
"You'll disappoint me. What's worse?"
Randy laughs. Not cause I'm hilarious—I am, but that's irrelevant. It's the thrill of new ink. Guys think I'm their best friend. Women want to fuck me.
Not that I need help getting laid.
I'm tall, built, inked, charming. I have no trouble finding women to take home.
It's a good routine.
I make them laugh.
Make them come.
Get them screaming my name.
Then I say goodbye and I do it all over again the next day.
No muss, no fuss, no one gets hurt.
No women stick in my head and refuse to get out.
Randy bounces to the counter on cloud nine. He's still shirtless and he's without reservations about it.
I'm not afraid of pointing out a good-looking man. Randy's handsome, but there's more of him to love. When we started, he was embarrassed by his extra padding.
Not anymore.
I've seen it a million times. Someone comes in insecure about their stomach, back, thighs, arms, whatever.
They leave proud.
A little ink and someone's trouble spot becomes their favorite body part.
It feels good, helping people like that.
Not that I'd admit it to any of the guys here.
Certainly not to Leighton.
Or Chloe.
Leighton nudges her.
Chloe moves forward. Offers Randy a smile. "Can I see the whole thing?"
"Fuck yeah." He smiles. Spins to show off his back.
Chloe's gaze fixes on his ink. She studies it the way she studies art. Her eyes go wide as she traces the design in the air. "Amazing." Her eyes meet mine. They flare with something I can't place, then they're back on Randy. "Dean does great work."
