Savior:A Tattered Club Story(7)

For the first time in his life, he was able to open the fridge and find the shelves full of eggs, butter, milk, cheese...everything he once had to scrape money together to afford. Omelets were a staple when cooking for one, easy and damn near one of the few things he knew how to make well.

“Sorry I was late, little man. I see you’re getting used to the puppy pads.” He knelt down and scratched the dog behind one floppy ear. “Good boy. Tomorrow we’ll hit the park.” One positive thing about the restoration was the new dog park on Washington. The grass and water fountain took the place of the dilapidated park. The old slides and equipment had been painted and modified for the dogs. Pretty cool.

He cracked eggs into a bowl and whisked. As he poured the mixture into the hot pan, a vibration hummed against his thigh. Silencing his phone during a tat was one way he concentrated on the client. Hell, the only people who meant anything to him were already in the shop whenever he was working.

After dropping some chopped green onions into the simmering eggs, he fished the phone out of his pocket. Damn. He slipped the pad of his finger over the call strip. “Hey,” he said, remembering he’d made plans.

“Hey my ass,” Samantha, the woman he occasionally fucked. One of the two women he used to forget the fantasies running through his screwed up head. “You ditched me Saturday and now you won’t answer my calls? This is it, Niko. I don’t have to be treated like this. You want me around to fuck then treat me like shit?”

She was right, but that was the way he worked. She was one of many on a list of hellos and good-byes. “Sorry. Had a client.”

He slid the omelet onto a plate as she continued the tirade. “Listen, I know I’m not your...preference, but the least you could do is not lead me on. If you want to stop seeing me, then have the balls to say so. Do you think I don’t notice your eyes roaming? The shit part is we’re checking out the same guys.”

Niko slammed his fist on the counter, instantly regretting it when Casper flinched and ran behind the butcher block counter. “Shut your fucking mouth. I don’t know what you think you’ve seen, but you’re right about one thing. I have a big set of balls, so me and my balls are telling you to get the hell lost.”

Before she could say anything else, he tapped the red icon and tossed the phone behind him on the bag. Casper crept from behind the tall chair pushed against the counter. “Sorry, boy. Women come and go, little man. You’ll learn.”

Grabbing a bag of barbeque chips and the plate, he walked to the couch and picked up the remote. As soon as he plopped down, Casper jumped beside him and got comfortable. Unfolding the bag of chips, Niko held one out for the pup to chomp.

“That’s it. You’ve got food in your bowl.” Niko flipped through the channels until he found an episode of CSI: New Orleans.

The light from the TV tossed shadows in the far corners of the room until it bounced off the wall of windows behind the metal staircase leading to the loft. For a moment he was confused until he felt the soft up and down of Casper’s chest next to his thigh. They’d fallen asleep. After putting the empty plate in the sink, he stepped into the bathroom.

Damn, once again he woke up in the middle of the night. It didn’t matter if he was in bed or on the couch, all he wanted was one night of good sleep.

Walking back into the kitchen, he opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. Casper slept on the couch. He slipped the drawing notebook from the black bag and stuffed the keys into his pocket.

The projection room’s musty smell lit his senses as he turned the knob on the lamp. The screech of the chair brought him closer to the metal table. First, he tried curves and lines, perfecting the dragon one client requested. Erase. Scales lapped over scales. Erase.

Damn.

Finally giving in, he flipped forward to the soft lines of the anchor he’d started in the studio. The one he’d envisioned on Ethan’s slender torso, running along his side, the tip barely touching the ribs hidden under his arm to the U shape resting at the crest of his hip.

The soft corners of Ethan’s pink lips had moved as Niko listed his favorite colors, but Niko had barely heard the voice that was much too mature for the innocent face sitting across the table. Looking away had been the only way Niko could stomach the thoughts running through his mind. Niko wasn’t gay. He wasn’t gay. Damn it to hell, he wasn’t gay.

Two experiences didn’t make a guy a fag.

Wiping the thoughts from his head, he slid the charcoal tip across the paper. The flood of his muse took up whatever space was left in his brain. The trance settled in with strokes and smudges. He’d decided to make the humming birds a watercolor style. After attending a tattoo conference, he’d tried the technique on several customers and liked the results.