Paul was back at Daddy Mac's promptly at six pm the next day.
He hadn't even told Rich where he was going. Well, the two of them weren't that close anyway -- they'd been paired up in the school dorms their first year and when they'd moved out their second, rooming together had saved them money, and they knew each other's habits and got on well enough that it worked well for both of them to stick together. But they'd never been close. After the upcoming weekend, they'd probably never see each other again.
Fuck, he was nervous.
There was no one at the cash area and as he waited he seriously contemplated putting forty dollars down on the counter for Six and leaving.
"Kid! You came back!" Six grinned over, blinking slowly, baggy jeans and flannel shirt giving him the illusion that he was floating across the floor. "Punctual, too. Cool. 'cept I'm not awake yet and that first tattoo's always blurry."
He got a wink and then Six waved him over. "'mere. Got some different looks. See if one floats your boat."
Paul followed Six, looking around. For a place as crowded as Daddy Mac's had been last night, it sure was empty now.
He took a few deep breaths as he tried to calm his nerves. They'd probably refuse you service if you were shaking.
"Six, my sweet, you need to re-stock the fridge... oh. Hello, then. Didn't know you had a patron." The guy came out of what looked like a tiny bathroom. He was tall, and kind of skinny, and smiled politely at him, looking kinda sheepish.
"He just came in. On fucking time and everything, can you believe it?" Six chuckled, digging in his pockets and coming up with a wad of cash. "Go get what you need and bring me a six-pack of ginger ale and a roll of sweet tarts, if you want. You working tonight, J, or are we going to that party at Molly's? I'm only here 'til nine tonight."
Six settled on a stool as he talked, eyes never leaving the tall man, handing Paul a piece of paper with four designs -- ranging from very simple and all black to one that was so stylized it could pass for just a design, colored in rich greens, blues and a hint of the deepest purple.
Paul's eyes moved from the designs to the two men, watching them from beneath his lashes. No wonder Six hadn't been phased by the tattoo he'd asked for. God, he was such a dweeb. Not to mention that explained the photograph with the tall dude in Six's portfolio, because here the guy was.
Maybe he shouldn't be doing this. He was a nice, white-bread boy who was going to have a nice white-collar job. Tattoos didn't fit the profile. But his eyes were caught by the last tattoo again and he was almost lost in the swirls of color. They sure were pretty though... the tattoos, and the men.