Free Sketch by Laramie Briscoe Page A

going to use them. I want them to stay in this package until I tell you to. Can you do that for me?”
    I can feel her frustration, but I can also feel that she wants to please me. “Okay.” She exhales heavily.
    “Good girl,” I praise her. “When you do wear them, prepare to be fucked like you’ve never been fucked before.”
    The sharp intake of breath is all I need to hear to know she’s looking as forward to it as I am.

Chapter Seventeen
    SKETCH
    “S o I let him take me out and buy me dinner, but then I made him take me home.”
    I look up from my drawing and give Trix a look. “You let him buy you dinner at the most expensive restaurant in town and didn’t give it up?”
    She gives me a look of pride. “I didn’t feel it with him, but I appreciated his effort.”
    “You are a fucking man-eater. You could have at least sucked it or jacked it. What if he didn’t have the money to be doing that for you?”
    “His problem, not mine,” she tells me, shooting me a look.
    “I see I came back at the perfect time.”
    I look up as I hear the voice of the other male tattooist who’s been on leave. River came back the other night, but this is the first time I’ve seen him. I hop up, and we clap hands, half-hugging. “Dude, the estrogen was about to grow me a set of tits. I am so fucking glad you’re back.”
    Trix shoots him a look. “Yeah, we’re so glad.” Her voice is dry, and I can’t help but wonder if the reason he left was because of her. I don’t know why, but I have this feeling.
    “I know you missed me. You don’t have to admit it.” He walks over and ruffles her hair, making her glare at him.
    “I am glad you came back,” Jackie says from her place at the counter. “You’re a fucking math genius, and this semester is kicking my ass.”
    I look over and see her already grabbing her backpack, pulling out a book. River laughs and shakes his head. “Same old shit.”
    “Different day, my brother, different day.”
    I glance outside, it’s a gorgeous day, and I don’t necessarily want to be cooped up, but I have myself on the work schedule. Plus I need to finish Reaper’s piece—he’s coming in next week to get started on it. I’m excited to see my friend; it’s been way too long. My phone vibrates, and I glance over, seeing a message from Nina.
    I just woke up and wanted to tell you good morning.
    My eyes turn to the clock on the wall. It’s almost noon, I can’t believe she slept this late. Back in the day, she was up with the sun. She didn’t understand the luxury of sleeping until you woke up—it was always an alarm clock with her. She had places to be and things to do.
    You slept this late, babe? Are you sick?
    Now I’m kind of worried; maybe being out in the cold air wasn’t the best idea I had ever had, I should have taken better care.
    What? No! I’m embarrassed to tell you this, but once I left you, most of my friends left me. They were my friends because of your status. They didn’t know the real Nina. Without those things to do and places to be, I started to appreciate long mornings lounging around—I like nights in. When I tell you I’m different, Sketch, I’m different.
    I don’t know what to say. With every text message this woman sends me she reveals a side of herself I didn’t know was there. I have such a preconceived notion of her in my head. I realize, though, that we’ve both grown up. Our priorities in life have changed; we’ve become our own people. Before, we were part of a unit that wasn’t cohesive; we counted on each other for our own individual happiness. This separation has forced us to find ourselves. I think again that maybe this Sketch and Nina are better than the previous versions.
    I’m starting to see that.
    My reaction surprises me, I’m speechless. I don’t know how to comfort her, how to apologize.
    It’s not a bad thing, Sketch. Before, I didn’t like my own company, now I do. What are your plans tonight?
    None. I wonder what