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“I do a burlesque act,” she said, following my gaze. “Not so much at the moment, though. Too much else going on.”
“You look fantastic.”
“Amazing what a bit of glitter and sparkle can do for you.”
I took a closer look at the pictures on the wall. They weren’t prints at all, in fact, but originals. I checked out the signature to find a squiggly RH. “You did these?”
“Sure did. I don’t paint so much these days, but I’ll do the occasional commission.”
“They’re amazing.” I took my time admiring one of her pieces, a corseted woman, tapping her thigh with a riding crop, stark and stylish and pretty damn sexy. I smiled inside at James’ shades of grey reference. “So you don’t paint fulltime?”
“Kind of,” she smiled. “I work downstairs.”
“You’re a tattoo artist?” I walked over to another piece. This one was smaller, but more intricate. Some kind of mythical beast, made up of heavy, tribal brush strokes, the head of a dragon trailing into the body of a lion. It was a strange image, dark and brutal, yet strangely beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off it.
“A chimera,” she explained. “One body, two beasts. It was a commissioned tattoo design.”
“It’s beautiful. For someone’s back?”
“Chest, although the tail curls all the way around the ribs to the spine.”
I tried to picture the person such a design would belong to, someone like Rebecca probably, someone elsecolourful. I took a seat along from her. “I love what you’ve done with this place, it’s very cool.”
“Really?” She looked surprised.
“Honestly, it’s amazingly well done, very stylish.”
“The landlady gives me free rein, so if you have any super cool plans for some interior refurb, let me know.”
“You sure hit lucky with that landlady.”
“Yeah, she’s an ex. She owns the tattoo shop downstairs too, so technically she’s my boss as well. Means I get special treatment. I don’t imagine James would have told you that I sit towards the lesbian end of bi. Is that a problem? I promise I won’t molest you in the night.”
“It’s no problem.”
“Great,” she said. “So, you work with James? I bet that’s fun for you, his perfectionist tendencies drive me mad at the best of times.”
“He’s quite a taskmaster. It’s good though... he’s good.”
She smiled at me, bright and warm. “You can ask, you know. It must be on your mind.”
“Sorry?”
“How we met. James and I, we’re hardly two peas in a pod.”
I grinned. “You do seem quite different people.”
“I went to school with his wife, known her since we were five. She came to me for an ankle tat a few years back and we got reacquainted from there. Jaz, my ex, and I used to hang out with them, double dates. Then they split up, and we did shortly after. James and I stayed in touch.”
“He mentioned his wife.”
She raised her eyebrows. “That’s a first, he doesn’t usually talk about her.”
“He didn’t say much, only that her name was Rachel and that she was unfaithful.”
“Well, that is a turn up for the books. Anyway, enough of James Clarke.” She raised her glass. “Welcome, Lydia! Here’s to us, and our newfound house-buddy status.”
I was happy to toast. All considered, I was pretty damn happy to be there.
