Page 98 of His Greatest Muse
Easton: Got her those shoes you sent me. Thanks.
Little Sister: Just wanted to let you know I don’t need your help like everyone else. Tell those assholes to get lost xoxo
Mom: Just landed at the airport! Can’t wait to hug my favourite two people <3
Mom: I got the goods, BTW. Thank you for helping me with this <3<3
Braxton: *Sigh* why do you have to be famous and busy now? I got her a gift card. Excited to see you guys!
I reply to my mom and lock my phone screen. The tattoo gun digs into my groin, and the man holding it mutters a weak apology while continuing the design. With my pants shoved down my hips, hugging the shaft of my cock and exposing my pelvis to the guy, I’m fucking uncomfortable. But not as uncomfortable as when the owner of this tattoo shop tried to convince me to let her ink me instead of the guy.
I wasn’t letting a woman that wasn’t Tinsley get anywhere close to my dick. Especially not with a needle. If she found out, she’d take me back here and use that needle on the woman. It would be sexy as fuck to watch, but only until she turned that needle on me.
“This is my first pelvis tattoo,” the guy informs me.
No fucking shit. If I had any less of a pain tolerance, I would have dislocated his jaw by now.
“Okay.”
“Who’s Golden Girl?”
“Mine.”
“Your what?”
“Mine. That’s it.”
He pulls the gun from my skin and looks at me with an expression between confusion and discomfort. “Territorial. I get it. She must be a dime, then.”
“A dime that’s worth more than any sum of money you’ll accumulate in your entire life.”
He frowns and returns to the shooting star on the left side of my piercing. The opposite side has already been inked with a matching star and Golden Girl woven through its star dust. We’re nearly finished. They won’t be healed by her birthday tomorrow, but she’ll enjoy the sight of them regardless.
It takes another twenty minutes for him to finish the last star. I take the wrap from him and apply it myself before yanking up my pants. It costs far too much considering the mediocre skill of the artist, but it was a last-minute booking close to home, so I toss more cash than needed on the front desk and leave.
Being back in Toronto, I’d have thought I’d get an in with my usual artist, but apparently, not even a celebrity status gets you in with Rocky when he’s fully booked.
My pocket starts to vibrate as I walk home. Tinsley is there with Sparks and Josh. Everyone else has gone back to wherever they came from while the tour breaks for a couple of weeks. We’ve been on the road for six weeks. The break was needed.
Being home is weird. Our house is the same as we left it. That’s not a good or bad thing. It’s never been somewhere I wanted to stay forever. Tinsley doesn’t like it. We don’t need the cheap rent anymore. Finding somewhere else should have been a priority long before we left for tour. It will be my priority while we’re back. She deserves somewhere better while I start organizing work on the house in Vancouver.
I look at the name on my phone and answer the call. “I’m on my way home.”
“Hello to you too, my amazing but grumpy man,” Tinsley sings in my ear.
Walking across the street, I avoid the crater in the road and silently slip between two buildings. The backways through Toronto are easier for me to navigate. Less traffic, less noise. I could have driven home, but being cooped up in a bus for almost two months had me itching to walk. Fresh air, the freedom to go where I please. I missed it.
“You sound like you want something, birthday girl,” I tell her.
“Me? Never. And it’s not my birthday yet.”
My lips twitch. “Out with it.”
“It was actually Sparks’ idea.”
“Is that supposed to help your case?”
“Whatever. Can you grab some ice cream on your way back? The stuff from the corner store with the gre—”