“The cupcakes are fucking awesome,” I mumbled through frosting.
“I was referring to my sketch, but thanks. Cassie said you liked cupcakes. That was kind of an understatement if you ask me, though.” She paused while I shamelessly inhaled the rest of the cupcake and snatched another.
“You made these?” I held up the perfectly decorated, professional-quality miniature cake.
“Yup. I used to bake all the time with my mom.” She cleared her throat before she continued. “So, what’d you think?”
“That I’m going to lure you back to my place and keep you there forever so you can bake those cupcakes every day for the rest of my life.” I left out the part where I would eat them off her naked body. Tenley was like a wet dream. Hot, feisty, into body modification, and she made cupcakes.
“Wow, Cassie was serious.”
“About what?”
“Your cupcake issue. I thought she was joking. Do I need to take that away from you so we can get down to business?” She nodded at the half-eaten treat in my hand.
“No,” I barked, holding it protectively until I realized she was joking. “Why don’t we take a seat and I can have a look.”
“You’ve had my sketchbook this whole time and you haven’t looked at it?” She seemed surprised. It was hard not to be offended.
“I was waiting for you. I didn’t want to appear untrustworthy.” Before I led her to my station, I picked up the box with the remaining cupcake, because Chris was eyeing it like it was a pair of tits, or a steak, or a steak nestled between a pair of tits.
I remembered what manners were and pulled a chair up beside mine, waiting for Tenley to sit before I did. There was a time when I’d been raised to open doors and pull out chairs for women, all chivalrous and shit. It had been a long time since I’d found it necessary to do so; now seemed a good opportunity.
“Would you like to show me the design?” I nodded to the sketchbook on the desk. “Then maybe we can see what I can do for you.”
Her fingers moved over the tattered cover, pausing at the edge. On a heavy sigh she flipped it open, sifting through the pages. Halfway through, a design caught my attention.
“What’s that?” I put my hand out to stop her from turning to the next page.
“It’s nothing.”
I snatched the sketch pad so I could get a better look. On the page were a bunch of random doodles; little hearts with arrows through them, ladybugs in various stages of flight, and a few “T. P. plus C. H.”?’s. The drawings were old. From the date on the top of the page, this one went back three years, but it didn’t stop the absurd twinge of jealousy.
Beside the hearts and doodles was a design perfectly suited for ink. “That’s not nothing. That’s a cupcake.”
“It’s silly. I thought it would be a fun tattoo when I was younger.”
“Fuck, yeah, you should get this as a tattoo,” I replied. Imagining where it should go.
Her eyes went wide.
I toned down my excitement a notch. “I mean it’s a cool design. I could put this on you.”
“But it’s a cupcake.”
“Uh yeah, which is exactly why you should get it. I’m a fan of cupcakes.” Like it wasn’t obvious.
“I hadn’t noticed,” she said sarcastically. “Cupcakes are for eating, not wearing.”
She seized the book and flipped through until she reached the end, then she turned it toward me. “This is what I wanted to show you.”
It took me a few seconds to process the image, or rather the duality it presented. The wings had an angelic, yet Dalí-esque, quality to them, appearing as though they were dripping off the page. They were torn and battered, like they had been ravaged by a storm. The infusion of darkness into something that should have been heavenly was magnificent. Fire licked up from the underside of the wings, tarnishing their perfection. Sparks of flame appeared through the holes, and embers burned brightly as feathers dropped and disintegrated. The top half of the wings was still intact. They shimmered a silvery-gold, as though the sun shone down on them, preventing further damage. It wasn’t just art. It was symbolic of an internal battle, hope amid destruction, or possibly the reverse.
The intricacy was insane. The wings, no matter how damaged, seemed ready to take flight. Tenley was a gifted artist, although I wasn’t sure she understood her talent.
“It’s incredible,” Lisa said from behind me. I had been so engrossed in the details that I hadn’t noticed she was there.
“It is.” I nodded, already planning how I would modify it as body art. There was only one place I could envision the piece going, and at its current size, it wouldn’t look right.
“Tenley, I can’t make this any smaller and maintain the integrity of the art. To be honest, it would be impossible to preserve the detail, even at this size.” I was bitterly disappointed. I wanted so much to be able to tell her I could make it work.
“That’s fine,” Tenley replied, unfazed by my admission. “I don’t want it smaller.”