At least for him.
Austin got back on his stool and concentrated on Rick’s sleeve for another hour before calling it quits. He needed a break for his lower back, and Rick needed a break from the pain. Not that Rick was feeling much since the man currently looked like he’d just gotten laid—pain freaks, Austin loved them—but he didn’t want to push either of them too far. Also, Plus Rick’s arm had started to swell slightly from all the shading and multiple colors. They’d do another session, the last, hopefully, in a month or so when both of them could work it in their schedules and then finish up.
Austin scowled at the computer at the front of shop, his fingers too big for the damn keys on the prissy computer Maya had demanded they buy.
“Fuck!”
He’d just deleted Rick’s whole account because he couldn’t find the right button.
“Maya, get your ass over here and fix this. I don’t know what the hell I did.”
Maya lifted one pierced brow as she worked on a lower back tattoo for some teenage girl who didn’t look old enough to get ink in the first place.
“I’m busy, Austin. You’re not an idiot, though evidence at the moment points to the contrary. Fix it yourself. I can’t help it if you have ape hands.”
Austin flipped her off then took a sip of his Coke, wishing he had something stronger considering he hated paperwork. “I was fine with the old keyboard and the PC, Maya. You’re the one who wanted to go with the Mac because it looked pretty.”
“Fuck you, Austin. I wanted a Mac because I like the software.”
Austin snorted while trying to figure out how to find Rick’s file. He was pretty sure it was a lost cause at this point. “You hate the software as much as I do. You hit the damn red X and close out files more than I do. Everything’s in the wrong place, and the keyboard is way too fucking dainty.”
“I’m going to go with Austin on this one,” Sloane added in, his beefy hands in the air.
“See? I’m not alone.”
Maya let out a breath. “We can get another keyboard for you and Gigantor’s hands, but we need to keep the Mac.”
“And why is that?” he demanded.
“Because we just spent a whole lot of money on it, and once it goes, we can get another PC. Fuck the idea that everything can be all in one. I can’t figure it out either.” She held up a hand. “And don’t even think about breaking it. I’ll know, Austin. I always know.”
Austin held back a grin. He wouldn’t be surprised if the computer met with an earlier than expected unfortunate fate now that Maya had relented.
Right then, however, that idea didn’t help. He needed to find Rick’s file.
“Callie!” Austin yelled over the buzz of needles and soft music Maya had allowed them to play.
“What?” His apprentice came out of the break room, a sketchbook in one hand and a smirk on her face. She’d dyed her hair again so it had black and red highlights. It looked good on her, but honestly, he never knew what color she’d have next. “Break something on the computer again with those big man hands?”
“Shut up, minion,” he teased. Callie was an up-and-coming artist, and if she kept on the track she was on, he and Maya knew she’d be getting her own chair at Montgomery Ink soon. Not that he’d tell Callie that, though. He liked keeping her on her toes. She reminded him of his little sister Miranda so much that he couldn’t help but treat her as such.
She pushed him out of the way and groaned. “Did you have to press every button as you rampaged through the operating system?”
Austin could have sworn he felt his cheeks heat, but since he had a thick enough beard, he knew no one would have been able to tell.
Hopefully.
He hated feeling as if he didn’t know what he was doing. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know how to use a computer. He wasn’t an idiot. He just didn’t know this computer. And it bugged the shit out of him.
After a couple of keystrokes and a click of the mouse, Callie stepped back with a smug smile on her face. “Okay, boss, you’re all ready to go, and Rick’s file is back where it should be. What else do you need from me?”
He bopped her on the head, messing up her red and black hair he knew she spent an hour on every morning with a flat iron. He couldn’t help it.
“Go clean a toilet or something.”
Callie rolled her eyes. “I’m going to go sketch. And you’re welcome.”
“Thanks for fixing the damn thing. And really, go clean the bathroom.”
“Not gonna do it,” she sang as she skipped to the break room.
“You really have no control over your apprentice,” Sloane commented from his station.
Because he didn’t want that type of control with her. Well, hell, his mind kept going to that dark place every few minutes it seemed.
“Shut up, asshole.”