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She inches closer in her self-assured gait, waving her hand in greeting. “Hey.”
A few seconds pass before I finally manage to answer in a low, non-committal tone. “Hey there.” I nod my chin up.
I browse over the employee applications on the surface of the desk, appearing busy.
Her ocean-blue eyes roam around the shop, scanning the art taped to the gold-turquoise marble wallpaper encompassing us.
Her wavy, cherry-blossom-dyed hair sways around her waist whenever she shifts on her matching pink Converse to the beat of the song.
She had light-brown hair the last time I saw her online, a couple of months ago, considering she doesn’t upload her images often.
Her heart-shaped lips widen until her teeth bite down her bottom lip. “Here are my designs as you asked, Mr. Walker.”
Mr. Walker?
Everyone calls me Dean or just Walker. Mr. Walker was my father and he’s the last person I want on my mind right now.
Yet I get the fact she wants this to be a professional introduction. Can’t say I don’t admire that.
I take the notebook she hands me. “Please, call me Dean.”
Bending to lean her skateboard against the desk, “Dean,” she repeats with a small grin.
She’s the real deal and she’s willing to put in the work which is a great place to start. If she’s disciplined about her craft nothing will stand in her way.
And based on our conversations she is.
The majority of her sketches contain flowers, animals, food, pop art, and a vibrant palate of colors.
I browse and pause when I see her anime-inspired designs. Colorful animation with clean lines and a gorgeous aesthetic mixed with white ink to highlight the image she creates distinctively. The contrast is tangible—giving an illusion of an atmosphere you think you can reach.
As suspected, it’s freaking dope.
She has style.
I wanted someone fresh. Someone who will take some of the weight off my shoulders.
I’m the name my clients look to encounter when they walk into my shop. I’m also the person they expect to find behind the machine. Yet, I’m a thirty-eight-year-old man, and bending for hours on countless sessions results in upper body pain that doesn’t neglect anyone.
We all sacrifice something to gain something else.
I’m not ashamed to admit I need help.
By this point, everyone knows that in order to get an appointment you need to book in advance. I’m swamped with work, booked for the rest of the year and I have a mile-long waiting list to add to the mix.
I can’t promise anything for next year due to the fact I travel all the time.
“You prefer Lennon or Lenny?” I ask, retrieving the notebook.
“Lenny,” she bites down her bottom lip again, looking at me and back to her surroundings, fidgeting on the soles of her shoes. A minute ago she wasn’t, but I understand that when someone judges your art, you lose some of your courage.
In her case, she’s exactly what I’m looking for.
“Lenny, did you try to ink some of the anime designs?” I ask out of curiosity.
The corner of her mouth twitches, “A few, but not many trusts an apprentice.”
Yet.
