1• A Needle To The Heart (3,100 Words)

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Anthony J. Crowley had gone to work, as he did every morning, but today was certainly different. As he finished up with his last appointment for the day, the bell above the entrance to "Forbidden Fruit: Tattoo & Piercing Parlor" rang, signaling the arrival of another customer. He finished attending the young woman at the register before turning his attention to the man.

The gentleman who had crossed the threshold didn't look anything like his usual clientele. There were no skinny and ripped jeans, sneakers or boots, baggy top, or a leather jacket. The man was only a bit shorter than him, wearing a tan colored suit. He was tall, chubby, had fair skin, a white-blond head of curls, and bright blue eyes. So bright that Anthony's attention was solely on them and didn't even notice when the woman he had just inked walked out of the shop. It's only after hearing the bell that he snapped out of it.

"What can I do for ya, mate? I'm about to close." Said the redhead. There was no threat or annoyance in his voice, he was just stating a fact.

Immediately, a small surge of panic washed over the blond. He was twiddling with his fingers now. "Oh! So sorry. I didn't see any working hours on the window, I assumed you were one of the establishments that closed up late. I can come back some other time, if you like. You see, I wish to get a tattoo. It would be my first and I've heard many good things about your skills. Plus, I work at the doctor's office around the corner, so I thought I could see the place for myself before committing to a design..."

He was rambling, most likely because of his nerves. Anthony knew the type. Not to mention the way he dressed, it'd make you think the man had no desire to mark his skin in any way. Also: 'Establishments'? Who the hell was this guy and why did he talk like that? It's just a tattoo parlor.

Anthony raised a brow, sitting on a barstool which was behind the register. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, that might be better. I work by scheduled appointments so, let me pencil you in for a consultation." He said, taking out a large black notebook.

"I've got a space open for tomorrow at 11:30, just before I go to lunch. That good for you?"

He seemed to think it over. "Tomorrow's Friday, my day off, yes should be fine, dear boy." Only the last bit was directed at Anthony, clearly, he was just voicing the previous facts out loud to himself.

'Dear boy'? No customer had ever referred to him like that before. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not. The nervous man's lovely appearance was making him lean towards the former.

Anthony gave him a nod before scribbling some chicken-scratch which resembled the word 'consultation' and opening a parenthesis. "Name?"

"Oh, full name or just the first one?"

The redhead shrugged. "Whatever you prefer. You could call yourself 'Sean Connery' for all I care."

That got a laugh out of him, and good lord, Anthony regretted it immediately. Now all he wanted to do was crack jokes to see and hear that lovely laugh again. Not something you can do when you're going to be inking someone. Once the giggling stopped, the blond noticed Anthony was looking at him expectantly, pen still ready to write. Now it was the blond who cleared his throat.

"Just write down 'A. Z. Fell'." He told him. Anthony did as told and closed the parenthesis afterwards.

With that, he closed the notebook, grabbed a small business card from the corner of the counter and slid it his way. "Here. That's my number, call or text me ahead of time if you're gonna cancel or reschedule. That way, I know not to wait up and I can get some other stuff done."

The blond man took it, placing it in his jacket's pocket before giving him a warm, albeit nervous, smile. "Thank you. I'll get out of your hair now. See you tomorrow."

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