Page 10 of Tattooed Sweetness


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Sighing, I admit to myself that I had seen it coming right away. I tighten my shoulders and instead send an innocuousHave fun!to my boyfriend, without mentioning Pascal and Tabea, who lives with him.

The wheels of a sleek sports car rumble over the cobblestones of what should be a traffic-free alley.

I hurry up the three steps to the nearest building entrance to avoid being clipped by the side mirror. “What a…” I grumble quietly, and then I’m already there.

The discreet hum of the entrance bell greets me, as does the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and foamed milk. The fully automatic coffee machine was my idea, which Pauline’s boss was only too happy to take up. Because it should tempt the customers to stay longer inChic & Gracethan planned. And, of course, to discover all the more must-have pieces there.

Pauline winks at me unobtrusively as she sweet-talks a customer with her natural charm. My best friend is really good at that. I don’t know how many times she talked me into stuff back in our school days: To throw my hesitation at the cost overboard and buy clothes that were supposedlymade just for me.

Accordingly, it was easy for Pauline to decide which career path to take.

And now? She moves around the boutique with the natural elegance of a gazelle on the savannah. When I think about my clumsy handling of other people’s clothes this morning…

Literally radiating happiness, Pauline’s customer disappears into the dressing room with three more pieces.

Pauline beckons me closer as she neatly reassembles the tried-on but discarded garments. “Well?” she asks in a hushed voice. “What was all that about this morning?”

I pull out my wallet to pay off my debt and shrug. “As I told you: in my excitement over my first independent consulting appointment, I spilled the client’s coffee all over his turtleneck.”

“In your excitement…” Pauline demonstratively overlooks my wallet, probably not wanting to let me off so easily. “So far your statement is true…” She gives me a conspiratorial look while checking her, of course, perfect hairdo with a side glance at one of the floor-to-ceiling wall mirrors. “A-and?” she calls in the direction of the dressing room. “What do you say? Does it fit?”

Soft sounds of delight seep through the heavy fabric of the curtain partition, set swinging by enthusiastic movements from the customer.

“See, that’s what I promised you,” Pauline explains in her always good-humored-sounding boutique voice. “Where were we?” She turns back to me with her volume lowered. “Oh yes, your excitement…” She smirks. “Good Lord! You don’t think I believe that claim about stage fright from you, do you?” Her perfectly painted eyebrows shift. “Not after spending half my lunch break investigating yourAntony-ishastral body.”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing at Pauline’s all-knowing inability to pronounce names of Greek mythology. She was more than miffed at that back in seventh grade.

“Do you also stock the top in extra-large?” Pauline’s customer reminds us she’s there in a singsong Mosbach dialect. “I mean the yellow one, not the blue one.”

“Extra-Large?” chatters Pauline, running her fingers along the stack of yellow shirts on the shelf behind her. “Got it! Coming right up!” Top in hand, she turns to me. “And you don’t move from this spot until you tell me more about your Antony. Clear?”

Antony? His name is Philipp.I smirk to myself as I stare after Pauline.Of course, I won’t tell her I’ve already called Mr. Sandtmann by his first name in my mind.

In a flash, she’s back from the locker room. “Get cracking before the next customer comes in!” she prompts me. Along the way, she begins to move the pieces from the fitting bar back to their places.

Calmly, I shrug. The fact that I almost hyperventilated in reaction to the collision with him is already more than embarrassing to me by now. “Well, actually, he does look quite appetizing…”

“But…?” Pauline fills my pause much too quickly with her inquiry.

Yes, what but—?“You know me, Pauline,” I burst out. “Such an incredible…” I search in vain for an appropriate adjective. “…handsome face,” I finally continue, even thoughhandsomeis grossly understated for such even perfection. “Striking, masculine, and also totally… boyish.” I close my eyes and see those full lips again, a mocking smile fluttering around them. With a shake, I brush off the memory and look at Pauline. “And then this wannabe demigod goes and disfigures himself from head to toe with tattoos.” I almost spit out the last word. The idea someone would voluntarily let themselves be mauled with needles to wear creepy motifs on—no, in!—in their skin for the rest of their lives… I’ve always shuddered at the thought.

Pauline casually waves it off. Shortly before her 18th birthday, she truly toyed with the idea of having a Tucholsky quote engraved as her life motto.

The only reason her plan failed was that she couldn’t choose betweenThe advantage of being smart is that you can play dumb. The opposite is already more difficult.andTolerance is the suspicion that the other person might be right.

Now she laughs. “You and your tattoo phobia… That’s nothing new. What interests me considerably more…” She puckers her lips into a wide smirk. “…is how you could come to know that your Antony is tattooed from head to toe.”

I feel heat shoot to my face and hope the foundation covers any telltale trace of blushing.Oh my Go—!I choke on the only-thought-of exclamation I’ve been trying to break myself of. To make matters worse, it makes me cough until tears come.

With a half-catty, half-pitying expression on her face, Pauline hands me one of the cosmetic wipes she keeps on hand for her clients’ makeup accidents. “Was it that impressive? Don’t tell me you ended up having sex with him in the staff room?”

“No!” I hiss tonelessly as a customer is about to enter the store. “Where would you get such an insane idea?”

My best friend turns away. Friendly and professional, she attends to the teenager who has come in—this much I pick up while my brain is spinning—looking for an outfit for a date.

The glow in my cheeks deepens, because with the mention of the staff room, Pauline has entered dangerous territory.

She has a peculiar, not to say spooky, receptivity to the secret fantasies of those around her.

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