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“But of course.” The sweetness puts a fairy-like smile in her eyes, which trickles down to the corners of her mouth without an approach, drawing them wide. “I’ve got to see it for myself, Mr. Sandtmann!”
The sweater Ms. Lechner got me fits like a glove. And thanks to the absence of labels, it’s even more comfortable to wear than the one she gave a coffee shower.
Where is it anyway?Searching around the office, I dare to go behind her desk. Of course, only to look for the top. And not to contemplate silver-framed photos of Celine in various stages of adolescence: Arm in arm with an old lady smiling into the camera, who is giving a more shriveled but also more amused impression from picture to picture.
Since I am alone, I do not have to hide the smile on my lips considering theGolden Girland the sweetness… I can almost perceive the scent of the Cologne water and Nivea cream typical for old ladies. In addition, the smell of lavender flower pillows and old walnut wood, which dresses acquire in ancient closets… Deep in my heart, I feel a stab of memory at the thought of my Granny.
To rid myself of the oppressive thoughts, I turn around briskly and— “Fuck! Shit!” —I ram my thigh into the edge of the table.
The whole piece of furniture shakes, and I just manage to grab the wobbling screen before it falls off. The picture frames, however, topple over like dominoes.
Damnit! Is everything going wrong today? I can shitcan this day completely!While I block out the throbbing in my leg, I fix the silver-plated frames. Because I don’t remember the original order, I arrange the pictures from young to old.Phew, hopefully, the sweetness won’t notice that…
I no longer care about my soaked turtleneck. I tuck the folder with the documents under my arm and leave the door to Ms. Lechner’s office wide open. It’s childish to divert suspicion from me like this. I know. Nevertheless, I can’t bring myself to close it.
Instead, I always take three stairs with each step on the way down and fortunately don’t encounter anyone in the lobby on the way out.
Back in the parlor, I’m greeted by the miniature cowbell Bella picked up at the flea market. The cozy purr of the machines surrounds me and soft samba music indicates that Jorge has begun his work. “Olá,” I greet the Brazilian artist. I also drop in on Ricky. She is needling her particular specialty onto the cleavage of a mid-fifties woman: a giraffe in pop art style.
“Philly!” Bella sighs emphatically as I peer into her tattoo compartment. “What took you so long? I just brought your twelve o’clock his third coffee. Is your cell phone broken? Why aren’t you answering it? I’ve called you a gazillion times and must have sent a dozen texts.”
“Oh.”My cell phone.I pull it out of my back pocket. “Fuck, I forgot I had it on silent for the appointment.”
“Have you been there until now?” Bella raises her perfectly painted eyebrows.
“Sure, where else?” I use the sink in her tattoo compartment to wash and disinfect my hands.
“So, how was Mr. Lechner?” Bella pauses in her tattooing, looking at me.
Starting with my thumb, I rub all the fingers of my left hand in my right fist, to spread the disinfectant into every crack of my skin. “A surprise,” I reveal to Bella. “Mr. Lechner is a woman.”
“What, for real?” She snorts. “Do I need to get jealous? Is that why you’ve been gone so long?”
“Bullshit,” I counter with a bit more emphasis than may be necessary and clear my throat inconspicuously. “Since when do I have a thing for pure-skinned fifteen-year-olds?”
“Fifteen?” Bella’s voice almost rolls over, prompting her client to burst out laughing. “A minute ago, you were claiming it was this Ms. Lechner who advised you at the Chamber of Commerce and Industries.”
“Who would’ve thought,” her client states into the awkward silence between us. “Our Philipp is completely pussy-whipped by his Bellissima…”
Certainly not.But to avoid starting another argument in front of the client, I shrug my shoulders as if I agree. “Ms. Lechner must be in her early twenties,” I qualify. “Her card said something about a master’s degree. Unless she skipped half the grades in school, she just looks ridiculously young.”
“Ridiculous?” Still half-miffed, Bella pushes her lower lip forward.
“I only love mature women with experience…” I graze her cheekbone with my lips, which she offers me as I lean down to her. “You know I do…”
“Mmm…” Full of vigor, she wipes the paint and blood off the client’s thigh with a piece of paper towel. Then she spreads a thin layer of TattooButter on the freshly tattooed piece.
I’m already three-quarters of the way out the sliding tattoo compartment door when her voice pulls me back.
“And a pure skinner?”
For a moment, I don’t know what upsets me more: Bella’s almost pathological dislike of people without tattoos? Or the fact that I have convinced myself with my own eyes of Ms. Lechner’s virginity in this regard?It costs me a deep breath to keep Bella’s insinuation from making me fly off the handle. “Good grief!” I scold. “What do you think? That I had nothing better to do than rip my clothes off in front of this doe in a schoolgirl uniform?” Well, that it really went down this way had a completely different reason.Honestly!But if Bella knew, she would get totally caught up in her utterly unfounded jealousy. With difficulty, I ignore the thought that Ms. Lechner’s bashful, longing looks have not left me cold.But what man wouldn’t care about that?“Ms. Lechner simply radiates being a pure skinner.” This statement is not even a lie. “You know the kind. I’m sure she walks from house to house with Zion’s Watchtower in her sparse spare time.”
“Oh, one of those?” says Bella.
“Yeah,one of those. Besides, you can meet her next Tuesday. She’s coming here.” Making it clear that the conversation is over, I swing the door shut. Full of satisfaction, I register the thump with which it slams.
The client waiting in the entrance area looks up from his magazine but says nothing.
