Free Under the Cornerstone by Sasha Marshall

to shine as brightly as her. I want to be that beautiful in my own way.
    “Can I help you?” she asks.
    “Sorry. Yeah. I’m Noely King. I have a consultation appointment with Carmine,” I tell her still a little in awe of her beauty.
    “Cool. I’m Sabrina. I spoke to you on the phone when you set it up,” she says. She looks down at the papers clutched in my hand. “Are those for Carmine?”
    “Yes,” I answer.
    “Can I see them?” she asks out of curiosity.
    I step to the counter that she sits behind and hand her the Banksy pieces I carefully chose.
    “Rock on. I fucking love Banksy!” she says with excitement. “Car!”
    She’s still smiling down at my papers when a fucking man, a real man, steps from behind a curtain.
    “Yeah?” he asks.
    He steps over to see what Sabrina is looking at and then his eyes finally settle on me. He takes his time looking me up and down. It makes me want to squirm on the spot, but I offer a small smile instead in hopes he doesn’t realize how much his gaze unnerves me.
    “Banksy?” he asks.
    “He’s one of my favorite artists,” I reply.
    “I like the pieces you chose,” he continues to stare on at me with intensity.
    “Where do you want to put it?” he asks.
    “I’d like to put the pieces together to make a sleeve for my right arm. I was thinking we could use distressed looking brick for filler between the pieces.”
    “Holy shit! That’s fucking amazeballs!” Sabrina says. “I haven’t seen an idea this great in a while.”
    Carmine shoots me a sly smile, “We get a lot of YOLO shit these days.”
    I chuckle, “I’m going through the process of YOLO now. This isn’t one of those pieces, though.”
    He nods at my assurance, “No. You put a lot of thought into this.”
    “I wanted to see where you thought about placing each of the pieces,” I advise and he looks down to my waist and hips.
    Maybe I shouldn’t let this guy tattoo me.
    “Let’s take them back to my station and we’ll see what we can piece together,” he says.
    I’m reluctant to follow him and be alone with him and all that man hotness. Sabrina walks from behind the front counter, laces her arm through mine, and escorts me back to Carmine.
    She leans over and whispers, “From what I hear, he doesn’t bite… hard.”
    I snort in laughter, “I think you’re the coolest chick I’ve ever met.”
    “You’re very perceptive,” she says. “We should be friends. Any bitch who brings in Banksy for a full-arm sleeve instantly wins my heart over.”
    “I’m assuming I’m the first?”
    “Yep. We were meant to be friends.”
    I notice a moment later she has the Banksy Anarchist Rat on her forearm. Maybe she’s right. Maybe we should hang out.
    “What are you doing back here?” Carmine asks Sabrina gruffly.
    “Escorting my new best friend.”
    Carmine looks unimpressed.
    “How many tattoos do you have?” he asks me.
    “Um… none?” I respond with embarrassment.
    They both look at me with shock.
    “You want your first tattoo to be a full sleeve?” he asks.
    “Yes,” I answer without hesitation.
    “Right on!” Sabrina yelps.
    “You must be one bad ass bitch to want this, and maybe a little insane to be friends with Jimmy,” Carmine winks at me.
    Jesus, my cheeks feel hot. It just got hot in here.
    “Jimmy is my partner-in-crime,” I tell him.
    “Then you are insane,” he laughs.
    “Aren’t we all?” I wink at him.
    He cocks his eyebrow at my wink, and I hold in the moan I’d like to make.
    “I had a cancellation today. Do you want to start on the upper arm?” he asks.
    “Fuckin’ A, she does,” Sabrina answers for me.
    I almost cave in because Sabrina wants me to get the tattoo today and she’s so excited for me. But then I realize the reason I don’t want to give in is because I didn’t plan to get tattooed today. I wanted to make an appointment and plan. I’m not sure how one plans for a tattoo, but I’ve always been a planner. So I throw caution to