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“Done with the carnage,” I confirm, smirking. “You can get up…” I point to the mirrored inside of the sliding door. “…and check to make sure everything’s okay.”
The ascetic guy with the appearance of an endurance athlete snaps off the treatment couch like a switchblade.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch to see if he shows any signs of circulation problems.
In the past, they were practically nonexistent… But after Celine keeled over almost two months ago, fainting spells have settled over the studio like a persistent virus.It’s really more than time to move to new premises. But they want to be found first!
“Fantabulous,” the customer states his satisfaction. With a tightening of the chest muscles, he lets the freshly stitched motif twitch. “You did a great job. HR Giger himself couldn’t have done a better job on hisAlien…”
“Thanks.” The commendation is music to my ears. With my hand, I point to the couch. “Then let’s get your monster ready to go out…”
The guy accepts my invitation and settles down.
With my elbows, I hold the paper pad in place until he lies down again. While I clean the fresh tattoo once more, my thoughts roam through the undergrowth of memory…
Although it is not part of her duties and was not agreed upon as part of her consulting work, Celine has sent me countless real estate offers. Jokingly, I suspected she had made this search her new hobby. But she denied it: Her aunt’s partner was responsible for that.
I don’t know why either. But the blush washing her neck in a luminous shade of pink wrung an enthusiastic cheer from Jolly Jumper.Holy shit!If I’m honest with myself, I wasn’t just once hoping that her suggestion would turn out to be totally unsuitable. Or exceeds my budget, which she calculated as hard as nails.
Just to have the excuse to see her more times…
To distract myself, I devote more attention than necessary to the new work of art on my client’s chest. With gloved fingers, I spread the coconut oil into a thin and even layer.
Next, I grab the roll of plastic wrap. The first few inches of the roll go into the trash.
Big Hammer’s voice booms in my head:No, Phil, it’s not necessary. But there might be dust on it—can you prove there isn’t?
Bullshit.I have to smirk. I wonder if the old swashbuckler knows what kind of lasting impression his training has left on me.
I ask the customer to sit up and raise his arms. Then I wrap four and a half rounds of cling film around his upper body to protect the fresh tattoo temporarily.
“I feel like a sausage,” the guy says, which makes me laugh.
“Do you drink your coffee black or with milk?” I ask him as I peel off my gloves and throw them in the trash can.
“You don’t have any tea?” He pulls up the corner of his mouth. “I’m doing a detox right now,” he adds, as if in apology.
“Just hop blossom tea,” I say, thinking of the bottles of beer in the fridge. “But alcohol is probably even less on your daily schedule than coffee…”
“Good guess,” the guy says, showing his teeth. “Maybe a water?”
“Coming up,” I imitate a waiter. “If you like, you can go outside, and have a smoke…”Stupid!After all, if he’s doing detox…
“Really?” The customer jumps up, almost jostling me to the side. He hasn’t set foot over the threshold yet; the butt is already in his mouth and the rattle of a lighter can be heard.
I look after him, completely befuddled, as he inhales the first puff.Damn! And what is he doing thisdetoxfor? Anyway, not my business…In the kitchen, I wake theSenseocoffee maker from its slumber and fetch a bottle of water from the box for him.
After drawing myself a coffee, I make myself comfortable at the desk.
We all need a break now: the customer, his tattoo. And me.
The fact I’m spending it checking the emails to see if one has arrived from Celine…
…is just because I cannot stand it in the confines of the rooms here much longer!
After two lattes, enough time should have passed that hardly any secretions leak. I call the customer in and lead him into the tattoo compartment. I wash my hands, disinfect them, and put on gloves. The usual ritual.
The cling film comes off.
