luck for the night - rl.

17. where did you get those trousers?

When I came to work the next morning, Phoebe wasn't even there yet. In all those years, this had never happened before. Maybe I was finally getting better at being on time, instead of always being late: when I was younger, my mum used to say that I would be late to my own funeral, one day.

A whistle rolled over my lips as I opened up the shop, and logged into the computer at the front desk. What was planned for today? Only four tattoo appointments. Microblading in half an hour, then lip blushing, twice (two friends coming in to do it together, how cute?), and at the end of the day, permanent eyeliner. I did not recognise the name of the client, so I navigated to the appointment notes for more info. Phoebe had this appointment? Oh wait, of course, this must be the girl she'd been talking about.

Since I had such a long time before my appointment, I grabbed my favourite bright pink coffee mug and made myself an espresso. I was terrible at making coffee at home, with the drip thing and coffee filters, that's why I always started my days with lemon ginger tea and had coffee at work. After the first sip, the caffeine entering my body, I went into my little side room, readying it for the day ahead.

Once again, I whistled while I got my things ready. For some reason, I felt a lot better today. Was it because I knew when I would have a break from this monotonous life soon? Or because I would see Remington soon?

My mood had been so good this morning, that I had changed my usual black attire to Remington's funky pink pants with a tight, black, long-sleeved top. He had been right, it did not really fit me. It needed a belt, but in the end, it worked out: my outfit looked amazing if I said so myself.

Time passed, and everything was normal. Or as normal as you could call it when I was not able to look one of my best friends and business partner straight in the eyes. I hated that I couldn't, so I spent as much time as possible in my room. I only came out to get clients, coffee, or to go to the back alley for a smoke break.

I knew that the longer I kept this secret, the heavier it would be. The angrier Phoebe would be when she found out. If she knew I would be travelling to London and Wolverhampton in one week, she would start fuming, I knew that much. If she knew it was with Remington and he was paying for my train tickets, I could not even imagine what she would do or say. Probably something to do with a certain Canadian rapper and hot sauce. So I kept my mouth shut, and worked.

***

"You must be Davina?" I smiled at the young girl in the waiting room. She had long, blond hair and was wearing an outfit I wished I dared to wear when I was her age: a huge black shirt, a pair of fishnet tights, and platform boots.

"That's me!" She got up, clenching her hand into fists, which seemed to be a bit shaky. The girl next to her, in a similar getup, got up as well, touching the blonde's arm for a second, before they made their way to me.

"I'm Rylin," I smiled, shaking both their hands, "please come in!" I gestured to the pink door behind me.

The blonde girl sat down in the tattoo chair, while her brown-haired friend took the chair in the corner of the room. I popped onto my tattoo chair.

"So Davina, since my colleague Phoebe did your first appointment here, and I am taking over, there are a few things I need to know. first of all, this is just a safety procedure, could I see some identification?"

Davina nodded, getting her ID card out of the little handbag she had brought, before chipping the back nail polish off of her fingertips.

"That's all good," I said, squinting to properly see the small numbers. "You turned eighteen yesterday? Congratulations!"

"Yeah," Davina said, still focused on her nails. "This is actually my parent's gift to me."

I smiled, trying to comfort the girl as much as possible. "That's cool! My parents never would have done that, when I was your age. This brings us to the second question, what kind of eyeliner do you want?"