by Ali Lyda
I’d worked on it for over thirty grueling hours, making sure every detail was just right. The client had opted for a four horseman motif, but wanted to include a nod to his four daughters. Instead of the usually puffed-up masculine pageantry in horsemen images, I’d made these seductive and feminine, dark and dangerous, with lady riders who looked like they could end the world with a single kiss.
It was one of the coolest pieces I’d done yet, and even without the show, it would have been on display in the shop for a long time.
The producer of the show, Jason Reed, was hurrying around to make sure we were still on schedule. For over a week he’d been in the shop taking notes, speaking to each of us, and planning with Reagan. He’d spent so much time next to Dane’s station that I was sure my friend had been chosen to be the highlighted artist. And it made sense; Dane would knock an interview out of the park.
Gordo and I lounged in my area, waiting for direction. Well, I was waiting. Gordo was there for some much needed emotional support. I’d feel him standing next to me, our hips brushing. Or he’d play with my hair, wrapping curls around his finger. His presence was reassuring. While I was proud of Get Ink’d, this kind of attention was difficult for me to reconcile with my growing but still vulnerable self-esteem.
Jason finally came over to us, and I sat up, eager to do something that wasn’t sitting and worrying myself into a worst-case scenario.
“Javi, man, I gotta say...that back piece is fucking amazing. You’re going to be getting calls for guest spots, celebrity tattoos, show offers like you won’t believe.”
I managed a weak smile. “Thanks.”
“It has to be our highlighted piece, which means I’ll need to interview you to go along with it. You’re handsome but with a doe-eyed vulnerability, which makes you perfect eye candy for the camera. And with this piece? You’ll be the face of Get Ink’d.”
I suddenly needed a lot of water. My mouth was parched while my palms and armpits dampened. “I d...d-don’t think that’s a g-g-good idea.”
Jason waved me off. It got under my skin, but I’d gotten the impression in the short time I’d spent with him that he wasn’t someone who heard “no” often.
“You’ll be fine. A stutter just makes you all the more adorable. We’ll shoot in fifteen. Do you want makeup?”
“No—”
“Great,” he said, and left, practically sprinting from me. I had been gearing up to say no, I can’t do it. Not no, I don’t need makeup.
Frantically, I turned to Gordo. Who was laughing at me.
“It’s not f-funny!”
“The ‘adorable’ comment wasn’t funny—Jason is a patronizing dick. But, love, the only person who thinks poorly of your stutter is you. With good reason, mind you—I would kick everyone’s ass who ever made fun of you if I could. But now? We don’t notice it. And when we do, we love you because of it, not in spite. It’s a part of you, Javi, and I wish you’d stop looking at it as a reason for people to reject you.”
He reached out and smoothed some of my hair back. “I d-don’t know if I c-can,” I said quietly, feeling like a small animal in a snare.
“Do whatever you need to, Javi. I’ll support you no matter what. But I think you should go for it—I think you deserve at least that much.” Gordo kissed me then, and it was as if I could feel his belief in me flowing through the kiss. It was cool like spring water, but with the force of a raging river.
“I’ll try,” I said when we broke off. I could feel the flush in my cheeks.
Soon I was seated in a chair near Jason. He showed me where to look when answering questions and promised me there would be nothing surprising. “And Javi, we can edit out things you hate, okay?” he said in a reassuring tone.
It helped knowing I could backtrack if my confidence fell through, but I could still feel my palms sweating.
Someone behind a camera said “Rolling in three, two...one.”
“You’d have to be living in a hole to not know the tattoo shop, Get Ink’d. Recently the star of a viral video that now has over a million hits, this shop is known not just for its outstanding artwork, but also for its generosity and big heart. They used a flash-tattoo fundraiser to help support a local youth center, which I’ve discovered was wildly successful.”
Jason looked to me and smiled, his white teeth gleaming in the studio lights that shone on us.
“This is Javi, the man behind the fundraiser. He’s also an incredibly talented tattoo artist specializing in intricate grayscale designs as well as wildly imaginative full-color fantasy pieces.” Jason nodded to me again, before motioning to my client off camera. “Let’s see the back piece you just finished.”
My client walked out without his shirt and in a thong that I would totally rib him for later. But I sensed the “oohhh” factor in the people filming. If they had it, I knew this would be a hit with the audience. I sat a little straighter in my chair.
“Now, Javi, tell me about this piece.”
Taking a deep breath, I made an effort to relax the fists my hands had made. “The client wanted a four horsemen b-back piece. He also has d-daughters, so I tweaked it in honor of them. You c-can see how the horses are sleeker, still strong b-but not hyper-masculine. Obviously I changed the gender of the horsemen—now horsewomen. B-but I wanted to keep them from being t-too sexy.”
Jason nodded. “You accomplished that. I mean, they are definitely easy on the eyes, but this isn’t a pin-up piece. You can really feel the power coming out of it. It is so dynamic. Well done. How long have you worked here?”
“A little over eleven years. I apprenticed with Reagan, the owner.” Despite the heat of the lights and knowing I was on camera, we were in comfortable territory. I knew tattoos like (ha) the back of my hand. “Everything I learned, I learned from him. Reagan takes c-care of us like we’re family. He’s not just a great tattooist and b-boss, he’s a loyal friend. It makes working here something I can b-be proud of.”
“Well now, I’m excited to speak with Reagan and your coworkers. Any advice on what tattoos not to get?”
I shrugged, smiling now. “The same stuff you always hear. No names of b-boyfriends or girlfriends, no hateful t-tattoos, and things that are funny now that may suck in five years.”
“Thanks so much for speaking with me, Javi, and showing off that stunning back piece. I can’t wait to see more of your work in the future.” Jason shook my hand, holding it until someone yelled “Cut!”
“Javi, great job,” he said.
Jason had a way of speaking that made him sound patronizing yet kind at all times. I supposed that was just part of his job, but I was glad to be finished with the interview. If this did turn into a show, I’d have to ask Reagan to negotiate how much speaking time I had on film, and whether I could sign and have it captioned on screen. While I felt startlingly confident after the interview, I felt wrung out after. It had taken so much of me to stay calm knowing my stuttering was being captured on film.
On the one hand, maybe other people with problems like mine would find comfort in seeing me on camera. On the other hand, I was beginning to acknowledge that while it might be time to change my inner narrative about the stutter, it was also just the beginning of that change. It was going to take a lot of time and effort and support from Gordo and my crew to become fully comfortable with it.
“Thanks,” I said, shaking Jason’s hand. All of those thoughts were speculative, and I chose to be happy in the moment. I’d just summitted a previously impossible mountain. “I look forward to s-seeing the end product.”
“Oh, Javi, I think you’ll be seeing more than an end product. You’ll be seeing a huge increase in visibility and a lot more of me in the future. This is just the start of things, I assure you.” Jason said it softly, like it was a secret between us, but it only confirmed what I’d suspected: Reagan was considering turning this into a show.
The thought didn’t terrify me like it once had, but that might have been because I caught Gordo’s
glowing face, so full of pride he was beaming, off to the side.
“Cool,” I managed, sliding out of the interview chair.
Before I’d taken two steps off the ‘stage,’ Reagan, Dane, Trinity, Mateo, and Bryce were surrounding me in a huge group hug.
“We’re so fucking proud of you,” Dane said. “That was perfect!”
Reagan gave me an additional gruff hug. “You did it, Javi.” His voice was rough, like he was choked up, and I beamed at him. “I think this is going to be amazing for you.”
“It s-sounds like it might b-be amazing for all of us,” I said slyly. “Long-t-term.”
Reagan laughed. “You got me. Guys, what do you think about turning this into a series? Wanna be TV stars? If you think you’re going to earn bank from all the clients this will net us, wait until you see how much they’re offering each of us per episode if it gets picked up.”
My heart skipped a beat—not only for me, but for my crew. None of us were hurting for money, but I knew that some of them had a heavier burden than I did. Supporting family wasn’t something I’d had to worry about before. My gaze slid again to Gordo, who was patiently waiting for me. I knew he was dying to be by my side, yet he was there, giving me and the crew space to celebrate our achievement. God, he was perfect.
I wrapped a quick arm around Dane. He, especially, would feel relief at this news. His mother… well, she was an investment, emotionally and financially. One that Dane tried his hardest to support. Extra money from filming would go a long way for him. But when I looked at him, his gaze was locked on Jason.
Before I could question him, though, a jubilant Reagan and Trinity tugged us in different directions, their excitement a clamor that I let wash over me.
And then I let Gordo whisk me home. Maybe I should have stayed for the others, but sitting in the hot seat had taken a lot out of me.
Like he had for weeks after the accident, Gordo simply pulled into his driveway. “Giuliana is spending the night with Mason and Dana,” he said casually, but I felt a tightening in my groin.
“Okay. Should we go to my place? Which is probably covered in cobwebs and b-bugs?” I asked.
Gordo just laughed, a deep belly laugh that had been coming more frequently as I healed and got better. It was music. “Yeah, right. I already have dinner stuff ready here. Do you really want to look in your refrigerator now?”
Seeing as it had been way too long since I’d been in my kitchen, I shook my head and followed him into his house.
Dinner was simple and delicious. Salmon en croute, asparagus, and red wine. Gordo stabbed at his fish, shoving it around his plate, until I sat back and pinned him with a look. “What?”
He glanced sheepishly at me. “I want you to move in.”
It was my turn to laugh. “I b-basically have. But… d-do you really want that? For me to put my house on the market? Because I will, if you do.”
His brown eyes glowed with delight and longing. “I do. I want you here, all the time. I want to wake up with you every morning. I want you to help raise Giuliana. I love you, Javi, and you belong to this family.”
“Okay,” I said, knowing it was completely insufficient, but I didn’t think I could speak if I wanted to. The love I felt… He’d said I belonged to the family. I had… I had a family now.
The look on Gordo’s face shifted from delight to hunger. A similar desire mirrored itself in me. “Let’s go upstairs,” he said. “I want you for dessert.”
Mute and wobbly with desire, I followed him up the stairs. Gordo started a shower and began to strip me. His fingers traced and scored my skin with each piece of clothing, his touch alternating soft and sharp until my skin was humming in anticipation.
We got in and the water was hot, the steam filling my eyes and my lungs. It made it feel otherworldly. Especially when his mouth found mine. Gordo’s kiss was demanding, his tongue in my mouth, licking and tasting me until I was panting. Our cocks, hard as steel, touched as our bodies together and I groaned from the sensation.
With care, and to my dismay, Gordo pushed away then. “Touch yourself but do not come.”
My hand gripped my cock and I stroked myself, unsure if I would be able to keep from climaxing. Gordo began to wash me. His fingers scrubbed in luxurious circles on my scalp as he shampooed my hair. I had to still my hand at the base of my cock at that, eyes squeezed shut.
He poured body wash on me and rubbed with his hands, creating friction between the slickness of the wash and the rough pads of his fingers and palms. The smells of pine and musk filled the steamy air, a scent I identified with Gordo, now surrounding me, enveloping me. It was heady. As he rinsed me off, Gordo licked and bit my nipples until I was gasping and my balls were tight, threatening to end it all.
“I can’t hold off,” I begged.
“Let go, then. Turn around, bend at your waist, and put your hands on the wall.”
Oh, God, he was going to fuck me in the shower. I swam in the need of it, wanting to drown in him, the weight of him, the stretch and fullness that Gordo always gave me. So I obeyed, sticking my ass out for him, braced on the wall.
“Close your eyes,” he said. I did.
He spread my cheeks. Instead of the blunt tip of his cock, though, my hole was met by his tongue.
“Oh, fuck!” I called out, jerking. He slapped my ass.
“Be still.”
I tried to be still. I tried not to buck and twist as his tongue teased and probed my hole. The water shut off while he was licking me, and he pushed his tongue in, penetrating me until I was crying for him and slapping the wall, needing more, more, more.
When I was feverish with want, so turned on that everything ached with need, Gordo rose behind me. He reached out of the shower and grabbed a bottle of lube. Soon he was working his fingers into me, the lube and water making me feel slick, slick, slick, made for him.
The pressure and sensation of his fingers inside of me, curling in just the right way, had me gasping and begging. It didn’t take long for me to be ready for him—we’d been busy for weeks and my ass seemed hungry for his cock at all times.
Currently, it was starving.
“I love you,” Gordo growled, beginning to press his cock into me. “I love you so fucking much, Javi.”
“I love you,” I said, a pant and a plea and an answer all in one. “I need you.”
Gordo pushed in slowly but without stopping until he was buried in me. I felt stretched, full and content. It was as if my body had been made for him. He gripped my hips, thumbs rubbing circles as I adjusted to his girth. When he began to move in me, it felt as if the earth moved with us. His thrusts were slow and steady at first, a rhythm that forced me to accept the fullness of him over and over in an agonizing and delish way. But soon Gordo increased his speed, piercing me with a fervent and rough quickness that left both of us grunting and moaning.
When we came, we came together, our cries guttural and filled with love.
I felt wanted. I believed the man still inside of me, forehead pressed to the nape of my neck as he panted, loved me. The shield in front of my heart seemed to grow, knowing it didn’t need to keep love out anymore. Instead, it helped me hold the swelling, surging love I had for Gordo and Giuliana in, keeping it safe. Protected.
“Welcome home,” Gordo said in my ear.
GORDO
It was silly to jump at the knock at the front door, but I did. We were expecting guests and everything was prepared for the night’s entertaining, and yet my nerves were threatening to gnaw out of my stomach.
I allowed myself one last deep breath before opening the door. On the other side were Mason and Dana, flowers and wine in hand. I started to reach for the flowers, but Mason moved away from me.
“Oh, no, dude. These are for Javi. He’s the one we’re celebrating. His house sold in like, what, a week?”
“We’re celebrating living together, Mason. Together means I’m part of the equation.”
“We’re celebrating Javi’s
white knightdom, saving you from a lifetime of bitterness and misery.”
“If you don’t give me the flowers,” I growled, “you’ll see a whole new level of bitterness and misery.”
Dana rolled her eyes so hard it looked professional. “Mason, give him the damned flowers.” To me, she said with a gentler smile, “We’re so, so happy for you, Gordo.”
I pulled her into a hug and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “Thank you.”
As if on cue, Javi came down with Giuliana in his arms. “Look, baby,” I heard him say, “Uncle May-May is here!”
I let loose a loud, barking laugh. “Uncle May-May!”
“Yeah, that’s not gonna work,” Mason said with a frown, but he was already reaching for my daughter. “No detective would ever allow the nickname ‘May-May’.”
Beside me, Dana snorted. “I’m making sure it happens now.” Then she walked over to join Mason in cooing over my daughter.
Next, my mother arrived. She was gushing as if she’d never been to my house before. I poured everyone a glass of wine while Javi brought food out to the table. I’d gone simple with a plank-grilled salmon flank, smothered in olive oil and lemon slices. Javi had made charred Brussel sprouts on the side. As we sat down, I went to start serving everyone, but Mason stopped me.
He stood, holding his glass in his hand. “All jokes and brotherly ribbing aside, I want to say a few words. There was a time when I’d assumed that Gordo had let heartbreak set a path for him that would only end in loneliness. But thanks to Javi, here, I don’t worry about Gordo anymore. When I see the two of you together, I see two parts of a whole. So, Javi, I’d like to not just celebrate you moving in with my brother, but to welcome you with open arms to our family.”
My heart felt so full I was almost sick with the love of it, so I couldn’t begin to imagine what Javi was feeling. When I looked at him, though, I knew enough. He was flushed with joy, his smile so large it broadcasted a warmth we could all feel. He deserved this, a family, but I was the one who was lucky enough to be able to give it to him.