At least that had been the rule until last night.
“A friend,” Steve said quickly, before looking back down at his notebook.
Jamie cocked an eyebrow at Steve's answer, “Uh huh. You sleep with this ‘friend’?” he asked, amused. He could tell something was going on the minute Steve had walked into the tattoo shop they owned together. Jamie had a knack for reading Steve's emotions and knowing when something was on his mind. It came from the fact that the two of them had always been friends, way back since they were just kids. It had been one of those neighborhood friendships that happened because the other had glimpsed the pages of a sketchbook while at school. It hadn’t been cool to draw or to care about anything other than girls, or getting in fights, but they had cared about and had a talent for art.
It had gotten them into more than one fight as boys, but they had never stopped drawing and dreaming after that first realization that there was someone else like them. Another boy with their head in the clouds and art on the pages of their notebooks;they had become inseparable. The pair bonded over their art which had eventually led to tattoos, first getting them as teenagers and then working to master the art. They'd always been in each other's lives, living with and later working with each other in a tattoo shop in the busy city they had grown up in. It might have always been like that until a year ago, when Jamie had wanted to leave New York for something a little slower. Steve had followed without question—where one went, the other followed, which was how they had ended up in a much smaller city, opening up Ink and Bone.
When Golden had come up on their radar, they hadn’t intended to open a shop, but all it had taken was one quick tour of the tattoo shops in town to realize they would never be at home simply working in what was already available in Golden. No, it was going to have to be done by their own hand if they were going to be happy with the quality of art and talent in their shop.
The pair had been sitting at a local bar, having a beer and talking about the pitiful state of the area's current shops and whether they should just continue on further South when Jamie had suggested it. "What if we open our own place?"
Steve had stopped laughing about the last shop they had visited and sat up straight at his friend's words. "What?"
"What if we just do the damn thing ourselves?" Jamie said again. He leaned forward watching Steve's face, intently, because he was excited by the sudden life he had seen spring into Steve's eyes. There was a fire there that had slowly been waning over the years and if the mere suggestion of opening up their own tattoo shop had Steve looking this energized, then Jamie was going to press for it.
"We don't even know if we're going to like it here," Steve said gruffly and looked away from Jamie.
"A place is just a place. We can make it great." Jamie countered, not willing to let Steve’s interest wane and die. Not yet, not when he had seen Steve come to life just then.
Steve raised an eyebrow. "Market might be complete shit for tattoos, Jamie. Just 'cause we got the talent and experience don't mean we can make customers appear out of thin air. That’s why the shops here are getting away with what they have.”
Jamie waved a hand. "Please.You saw the shops around here AND they got full staff at each and every damn last one of them. There's a market for it, and they are gonna go crazy when they have real artists workin' for them."
"Maybe..." Steve muttered.
"No maybes, buddy. Let's do this thing." Jamie had winked at Steve, who had only shook his head and turned their conversation to other topics. Jame had worried that it would just be talk, but he was prepared to bring it up the next day, except that he hadn’t needed to. Not when the very next morning Steve had sauntered into the living room of the suite they had been renting and tossed a contract at Jamie.
"Property is fucking found. Sign that damn thing and let's get our asses in gear."
And that was that.They had worked at renovating the space with the savings they had and went for it. Within a month they had a full staff of artists they had handpicked from the area. It appeared there wasn't a shortage of talent, just a lack of vision and management by shop owners. Owners who were too old and out of touch or too lazy and expected their cookie cutter shops to operate without them. They hadn’t minded because it meant that their fledgling shop, Ink and Bone, was thriving. It meant that their dedication to quality and art had created a reputation for them that extended far beyond Golden, Virginia. The knowledge that they were native New Yorkers also lent the shop credibility, because who didn't want to get on a waitlist to be tattooed by a pair of New Yorkers? After all, it sounded so much more sophisticated than saying the guy down the street, or so that was what they had found in getting to know the people they tattooed.
In short, their business venture was a success. And success meant they weren't going anywhere for a very long time which was why Jamie was now watching his friend with interest. Steve didn't do relationships, but Jamie knew he needed one. He needed someone else to rely on, and the fact that they were putting down roots only drove home the fact that one-night stands and passing flirtations weren't going to cut it.
Jamie repeated himself, "You sleep with the friend or what?"
“Not exactly,” Steve replied, still skirting around the initial question.
Jamie nodded, running a hand through his hair. He shrugged. “That’s not a yes, but it’s also not a no, and that means…well, I’m not exactly sure what that means for you.” His grin answered Steve’s scowl.
“I’m not coming home tonight, either,” Steve said suddenly, snapping his notebook shut and looking at Jamie like he’d just decided something.
“Oh yeah?” Jamie stepped back and looked at Steve sideways as if he were trying to see if something was wrong with him. “You feeling okay? Don’t feel a flu or some body snatching ailment coming on?
Steve stood and stretched. “M’fine.”
“Another friend or the same one?” Jamie asked, sliding onto the stool Steve had just been sitting in. He crossed his arms and watched his friend's face carefully.
Steve looked like he didn’t want to answer, but he did because he always answered Jamie. “Same one.”
“Damn.” Jamie nodded, looking surprised but almost pleased.
“What?”
“It’s about time you felt something for somebody,” Jamie said with another shrug.
Steve’s face screwed up in annoyance. “What? Hey, I feel things.”
“No, you don’t,” Jamie replied without missing a beat. Steve shook his head, turning around to busy himself by tidying up his station before his first appointment. “You feel zero things for people and you know it…and I don’t count. We’re like brothers,” Jamie said, holding up a finger when Steve started to protest. “I’m just happy about this, so let me have it. This is why I wanted to leave the city. It’s too fast there. Nobody cares anymore. That’s no way to live.”
