Kyla smiles. “Easy access?”
“Exactly.”
I arrive outside Kyla’s apartment at 7 pm exactly and call up to let her know I’m there. She emerges from the building in less than five minutes, earning extra points for her punctuality.
Points?
I’m not supposed to be scoring her. She’s supposed to be scoring me. But as I take in my gorgeous date, dressed in a floral floor-length cotton dress and pretty powder blue cardigan, with her hair swept up into a ponytail and her hands clutching her purse a little too tightly, I can’t help but think that she’s a ten out of then.
“I hope you’re hungry,” I say, reaching out to take her hand for the short walk to my car.
“I resisted snacking on anything,” she says. “I didn’t want to spoil my appetite.”
“That’s good.”
Her hand is small, soft, and warm in mine, and when I glance down at where we’re connected, I’m struck by the paleness of her skin against the dark ink of mine.
For as long as I can remember, my brothers and I wanted to become tattoo artists. Our dad had a friend who was in the marines, and he had the most interesting ink covering his arms and torso. I used to sit in his lap and ask him about each one, and he’d tell me the most elaborate stories about the inspiration behind all the artworks.
The idea that tattoos can tell a story is what drew me to the profession. I also liked that it was a way that I could differentiate myself from my brothers. The ink I have on my arms is unique to me. My triplet brothers chose different places on their bodies and different stories too.
In many ways, we’re very similar. Before the tattoos, even our own parents would struggle to identify us if we were still and silent. Now, there are no problems. We’ve created our own differences, and it made me feel just separate enough.
I wonder if Kyla will ask me about them. She doesn’t have any herself and told us that she doesn’t want any either.
I wonder how she’ll react to my piercing. That’s another difference between my brothers and me.
Opening the car door for Kyla is a way of me setting the tone for the evening. I’m here to take care of her in every way. I’m here to make her fantasies come true. At least, I hope my night fits with her fantasies.
In the trunk is a delicious picnic prepared by the deli near Ink Factor. I have candles and a small speaker for music. A few rugs and cushions so that Kyla will be comfortable. I’ve also downloaded this awesome app so we can look up at the stars. Thank goodness there’s no chance of rain tonight, or I would have needed to find another venue for our outdoor escapades.
“Nice car,” she says as she pulls the belt across her body.
“It’s my dad’s old truck,” I smile, happy that she appreciates my passion.
“There’s nothing old about this. It’s vintage and in awesome condition.” Kyla trails her hand over the dash. She’s right. It is in awesome condition. This truck has been my passion for years, much to my brothers’ amusement. There was a long period where I couldn’t get her to start, but now they’ve had to eat their words. She’s a beauty. All she needed was some tender loving care.
“It took a while,” I say, “But I managed to restore it to its former glory.”
“You did this?”
I put the truck into drive and turn it, so that we’re facing in the correct direction.
“I did. Every bit of it. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing in the beginning, so it was a learning curve, but I loved every minute of it, even the frustrating times when nothing was going right.”
Kyla nods. “I love learning too. It’s why I wanted to become a teacher. I thought it would be a natural step to take my passion to others.”
“So, what happened?” I ask, only to be met with a small shrug.
“I did all my training, and I got what I thought was going to be my dream job, and then I realized that I actually only like learning. I didn’t enjoy teaching at all. It’s just too much chaos, and I got bored telling people the same information over and over. I wanted to dig deeper. I wanted to explore and find out things that I didn’t know. I wanted to lead the kids off the curriculum, but I couldn’t. It was so narrow.
“Is that how you ended up at the coffee shop?”
“Yeah. I mean, it wasn’t supposed to be a long-term thing. It was just until I found something else.”
“And Ink Factor…does that fit with your something else?”
“It does right now.”
I smile, feeling a bubble of relief that she’s not planning to leave us any time soon. When Carl told us he was hiring a woman to help at the shop, I thought he was crazy. But Kyla’s really become part of the Ink Factor family and made some awesome changes. I want her to stay.