3. Kyro
Let’s Feel This Out . . .
When Kara came into my office the other day to tell me that someone called for an appointment, and she took their name just in case I had a cancellation, I knew she was on some bullshit.
That was not our process at all. If I was booked, then I was just fucking booked.
If I had a cancellation, I normally didn’t fill it with another person.
I took that time as a break. My appointment calendar stayed booked sometimes two to three months out.
Add to the fact that I didn’t take walk-ins . . . I was a hot commodity.
I asked her who it was that wanted an appointment.
After she told me, that was when I realized the bullshit she was on was the good kind.
Yeah, I needed that appointment with her as soon as possible.
Since the unveiling, I did some research on Tomorrow Bennett.
The great thing about her being a large part of the artistic community was that it wasn’t hard to find content about her.
She had a fairly large social media footprint. Her artwork was astounding.
The work that she did with her non-profit organization was something worth talking about and admiring.
I also admired her story that I read in a news article years ago.
I didn’t know any eighteen-year-old who would petition for custody of their younger siblings.
That showed me that she valued family, which was very important to me.
Kara didn’t tell Tomorrow a lie. I was booked up like fuck, but that was nothing that I couldn’t change.
I looked through my books and canceled an appointment.
They were tripping, at first, until I gave them a 30 percent discount and they could resubmit a new design with no extra fee if they wanted to change it.
They were completely cool after that shit. My prices weren’t for the weak.
The design that Tomorrow submitted for her and her brother’s matching tats was fire.
From the scan of it, I could tell that she had someone sketch it which was even better.
So many times, people put their ideas into some AI engine to get their design.
I low-key hated that shit. I was an artist, so I loved it when true artists picked up a pencil, pen, brush, or whatever, and put in the pure work.
Now graphic designers, that was their lane.
I saw Tomorrow and her brother August when they pulled up to my shop on my camera monitor. She was fine as fuck. I loved that she wasn’t that tall, because I wasn’t a tall nigga myself.
I always shook my head when females dismissed me because I wasn’t six feet or taller.
I came in at a comfortable five feet, ten inches.
It was always, oh you’re fine, but I need a man that’s taller.
When I was younger, that shit annoyed and bothered the hell out of me.
When I got older, I realized those weren’t the women for me.
It didn’t matter how tall I was physically.
What mattered was how tall my integrity, morals, respect, and love were. Oh, and how tall this dick was.
When she and August came in, he went straight to our receptionist desk to check in. Tomorrow roamed around the waiting area. She stopped cold when she saw the mural that I sketched and my Auntie Danielle brought to life on the back wall. That mural was my pride and joy.
She was nervous around me, which was a good thing in my opinion. It meant she cared about what I thought about her or this interaction. Yeah, she is feeling ya boy. “The sooner we get to know each other, the sooner we can decide whether we like each other more than a physical attraction.”
Her reaction to my words was priceless. I called her out, and she wasn’t used to that. “Sir, what makes you think that I’m physically attracted to you?”
The space between us had already been closed, but I opted to close it even more. For as long as I could remember, I was the type that tested boundaries. In a toxically non-toxic way, of course. The freshness of her breath was appreciative. “Tomorrow, are you physically attracted to me?”
The hitch of her breath was all the answer that I needed. Almost every time, a person’s nonverbal cues would tell on them long before they said anything. It was the same concept of when you paid more attention to what a person did instead of what they said.
“Aye, we here for tattoos, not a love connection. What kind of professionalism is this?” August interrupted our moment.
There were no worries, because there would be plenty more moments for us to share. I banked my tattoo shop on that. My head turned in his direction, but my feet didn’t move. “You’re right. We can make our love connection in our alone time. Which one of you wants to get tatted first?”
Oh, he didn’t like that. August and Tomorrow didn’t resemble each other as much as her and Tuesday did. I wouldn’t have immediately pegged them as siblings.
“Um, Auggie, you can get tatted first, then me. If you want, you can leave, and I’ll call you when I’m ready,” Tomorrow suggested. Let me put more stock in my fucking shop.
August’s head bucked back. Take it in, brother-in-law. “Oh, it’s like that, Sis? Bet that. Yeah, I’ll get tatted first.”
“Cool! Let’s head back to my private room.” I escorted them back.
Kara’s smug expression didn’t escape me. It was guaranteed that I would hear about this later from her and whoever she ran her mouth to in my family. In my family, if you wanted something to be a secret, it better have been kept between you and the Lord.
When we got back to the private room, I showed my future where she could sit. I already had their designs ready.
“These designs are nice. Who sketched them?” I asked after August got comfortable in my seat.
He smiled. “Our sister Tuesday. She’s fire like Tomorrow when it comes to drawing, but she’s more of a sculptor.”
“Your little sister that was out there with you the other day? How old is she?” I was impressed. The skill it took just to do the shading in the sketch was remarkable.
Pride illuminated on Tomorrow’s face. “She’s sixteen. She attends Riverdale Art Academy.”
August chuckled as I placed the design on his forearm. “When she showed it to us, this one over there started crying like a big baby.” He side-eyed me. “Hope you can handle a crybaby.”
With a titter, I glanced at Tomorrow. The bashful embarrassment was there, but it was cute. My eyes didn’t move from her as I spoke. “Trust me, I can handle what’s meant for me.”
I loved to see her blush. I started to prepare my inks for the tat. “So, what does the tat mean, if you don’t mind me asking?”
As my eyes bounced between them, they smiled brightly. August cleared his throat. “I’ll let her tell you her portion when y’all have y’all’s alone time.” He rolled his eyes.
Tomorrow sucked her teeth. “August, stop being annoying. Just tell him what the whole thing means.”
My head tilted toward her brother who now looked annoyed himself. “I guess you want to use your alone time to talk about other shit.” His slitted eyes were on her for a beat before they moved to me.
“Tomorrow is the lighthouse to my ship. As the voyager, I’ve traveled through life, so far, and will travel in the future with the confidence that she will always be my safe place.
She’s like my light that guides me and Tuesday.
No matter the storm, I know that the lighthouse will always be there, standing strong, waiting for me if I need to find my way home. ”
Well, damn. When my head turned to Tomorrow, there were tears in the corner of her eyes. One was successful in its prison break. “Damn, you really are a crybaby. That’s cool, though. As long as they’re happy tears.”
August chuckled, then mumbled, “Told you so. I’ll give you a list of shows and movies to avoid if you are blessed to be in her presence on that level.”
His words caught me off guard, but not in a bad way. He saw the worth in his sister. His words were his silent instruction for me to see it too. Much respect.
For the next hour and a half, I tatted August, and we all had lively conversions. He did good with the pain. I asked him if he wanted to use numbing cream, and he chose not to.
He admired the tat once it was done. “This shit is hot as fuck. Damn, I can’t wait for Tuesday to see her vision alive.”
Tomorrow had his wrist in her hand as she gazed at the tattoo. She was silent. I saw the tear.
“Mar, if you start crying, I’m gonna know something,” I jested. “I see I’m going to have to go to Sam’s Club. I need to always have Kleenex on deck.”
She let go of August’s wrist, then rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Kyro. August, I’ll call you when I’m finished.”
“Well, damn. Not you rushing me.” He grabbed his jacket, chucked us the deuces, and was out.
Now that he was gone, it was time for some alone time. “You ready, love? Come sit over here.”
She moved toward the seat. I intentionally stood in her way so that she would have to get into my space. I loved her in my space already.
“You smell good,” she said quietly. I wasn’t sure if she intended for me to hear her. It seemed like an intrusive thought.
She got comfortable. When I asked her if she wanted to use numbing cream, she declined it also. These days, most females chose to use it.
“Alright, let me see this arm.” Her arm extended. There was a small scar that was right under the inner crease of her arm. I touched it, then asked, “What happened here?”
She looked down at the spot that I touched. Her finger grazed mine when she touched the spot closest to it. “I was like eleven years old, and our mother was off on one of her party nights. I’m not sure where our dad was.” She rolled her eyes, then mumbled, “He was probably in the streets.”
Interesting. That gave me a lot of insight. It also eliminated certain questions I may have wanted to ask.
She huffed, then continued. “August was three and he was hungry, so I tried to cook. I dropped a hot pot on my arm.”