Page 18 of Flash

Oh.

Oh.

Those drag bitches totally screwed me. I am so leaving them a shitty review.

The lyrics to the song kick in, and all four of them start to lip-synch to “Bad Blood.” How fitting. An unholy shriek builds up in my chest, but with the potential mega customer standing right next to me wide eyed, all I can do is grit my teeth and keep a bland smile etched onto my face.

When the song ends, they all blow me a kiss in practiced synchronicity and then bounce back out of my shop without a word. Rowan coughs and it’s clear he’s trying to cover a laugh, and I flex my fingers at my sides. My limbs are numb. Is this what a stroke feels like? I swivel back towards the wedding planner and let out a breathless laugh.

“So sorry about that. Let me go ahead and show you the selection I carry. And, keep in mind, I can get specialty flowers or even grow specific ones if you give me enough notice. Right this way,” I say in a slightly breathless voice, hoping she doesn’t notice the way my eye is twitching.

Clearly, I’m going to need to think bigger if I’m going to show them I can’t be messed with. Would a horse head in his bed be too extreme?

Hmm, maybe I’ll keep brainstorming.

ARROW

I shake my head as the guys come streaming back into the shop, laughing and pulling their wigs off. I was in the middle of a tattoo when they all flounced out of here, and I can’t say I’m mad I missed the drag fun.

“You should have seen his face.” Jag cackles.

“He looked madder than a wet cat,” Tex agrees, howling with laughter.

Brick leans against the doorframe that leads back to his piercing studio in the back and grins at the sight of the four of them in dresses. After the cheerleaders in drag did their routine, Piston immediately jumped up and asked for their help. It took less than an hour for them to plan a routine, and another hour for the queens to help them with makeup while Hero ran to the secondhand shop to buy some of the most god-awful dresses I’ve seen in my life.

“You know, I kind of like how breezy these dresses are.” Hero does a twirl, the skirt of his dress flying up to show off his hairy legs, scuffed up boots, and today’s brightly colored socks, adorned with ice cream cones.

“You picked ugly ones though,” Piston complains, plucking at the deflated area of his dress where his tits would go if he had any.

“Fuck off. It’s not like there’s an endless selection at the thrift store.” Hero rolls his eyes.

Brick hides a snicker behind his hand, drawing Piston’s attention. Of all the guys, Piston’s always been the most even-keel, the only one I can usually count on to back me up when the other three are getting too wild. The only reason I didn’t try to stop them from putting on dresses and going next door was because Piston was with them. Pissing off our new neighbor is one thing, but the last thing I need is for them to get out of hand and get the cops called on us or something.

“What, you don’t think I can pull it off?” Piston jokes, doing a little shimmy at Brick.

Our piercer chuckles again and then yawns widely. He’s been doing that a lot lately—yawning, going through multiple cups of coffee a day, coming in with bags under his eyes. I make a mental note to ask him if everything is okay the next time I get him alone.

“Oh no, you should definitely keep the dress and incorporate it into your regular wardrobe,” Brick deadpans.

“Just for you, sugar plum,” Hero blows a kiss.

Brick tuts and slips back into his private little sanctuary behind the curtain while the four of them start stripping off their dresses right there in the middle of the shop.

“Sure, don’t worry about walk-ins,” I say blandly as Hero balls up his dress and whips it at Jag like it’s a snowball, catching him off guard while his own dress is halfway over his head. He stumbles and falls on his ass and Hero throws his head back to howl with laughter.

Sure enough, the door swings open and a guy who looks to be in his twenties or so steps inside. His eyes widen to the size of saucers at the sight of Hero standing there in nothing but his pink camo briefs while Jaguar rolls around on the ground half undressed, trying to free himself from his dress, and the other two idiots standing there grinning.

I sigh and shake my head. “Welcome to the madhouse… sorry, I mean Ink Slingers.”

Eventually, everyone is back in their regular clothes, the granny dresses all folded and set aside to be dumped in the clothing donation box down the street later. I help the walk-in with a flash piece off the wall—a simple skull that’s nothing but linework and shading—while other appointments and walk-ins slowly fill the shop.

Unsurprisingly, while I work, my mind wanders to Lewis. I smile to myself, thinking about some of the hilarious, dramatic, and even downright filthy texts he’s sent me this week. Friday took a hell of a long time to get here, but I finally get to see him again tonight. I rub my lips together mindlessly, thinking about the feeling of his mouth against mine, the breathy sounds that vibrated around my tongue, and the heated groping of our hands.

My cock swells uncomfortably in my jeans, and I shift on my chair to hide the growing bulge. Luckily, my client doesn’t notice and neither does anyone else.

A few hours later and the shop has emptied out again, our appointment books clear for the rest of the night.

“Okay, hear me out.” Tex uses his thumb to nudge the rim of his hat up a little as he pitches us whatever idea he’s been cooking up. “We ride out to that drag bar in Milwaukee.”

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