“Does it have to be my face though?” I ask, warming to the idea but prepared to convince him a simple portrait in a frame is preferable. “You could just get more tribal art. Papá has some new Mayan artifacts in the collection for the upcoming auction that might give you inspiration. Have you seen the one with the eclipse? Don’t you think something like that would make more sense?”
“You make sense to me. I want it here, where it’s hidden, but I can look at it when I’m away from you.” He turns his arm to display the bare section inside his left bicep. The outsides of both his arms are covered in ink down to the elbows but no farther, except for the tiny cross on his hand. Seeing that tiny design makes me think of Maddox and how he displays his own identity in the same place. The tattoos are vastly different, but both are silent announcements of a lifestyle that is part of each man’s blood.
With the thought of Maddox, my mind strays to his photographs and it occurs to me to finally ask, “How do you intend to get a reference? Are you going to hold a camera up while we’re having sex?”
“Ah, not exactly. I was going to ask a friend to photograph us.”
My heart thuds hard because I know who he means almost instantly, yet I’m ashamed of how the idea affects me.
“Leo . . .” I say in a scolding tone as I pull away. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Not after the confession Maddox shared. I’ve stayed away because I didn’t think it would be fair of me to visit, knowing how he feels about Leo and me. It’s the only kind thing to do. My feelings for Maddox are moot, at any rate. Even if I had the freedom to choose between him and Leo, Papá would never tolerate me having a relationship with him. And I wouldn’t risk hurting Leo to try it. Maddox gave his blessing out of love for both of us. That detail was not lost on me, and I have no intention of rubbing his face in it.
By contrast, it took very little time for Papá to accept Leo as part of the family. His insistence that Leo move in immediately threw us both off-balance for several days, but we adapted quickly. It wasn’t long before Leo moved into my room completely, though Papá still turns a blind eye to that development. Papá’s tacit acceptance of our relationship probably accounts for half of my own happiness now, because I’m free to love Leo openly.
I asked Papá to explain his change of heart after our discussion of how love is a weakness. Wouldn’t my relationship with Leo diminish my ability to do my job, by his standards? It was the first time I’ve ever heard my father admit he might be wrong. “Love made that boy take a bullet for you, mija. I suppose there are two sides to everything.”
There are two sides to Leo’s request now too. How do I weigh Leo’s desires against the need to protect someone else? Or against my own desire to see Maddox again in the first place?
“You know Maddox is the best option. We can trust him. And you’ve seen his photographs, haven’t you? He’s not a stranger to that kind of work. He told me he does it regularly.”
I frown at the pang of jealousy that shoots through me at the thought of him actually in the room with the couple in the photos I saw hanging on his wall. Does he have sex with her? With him? I don’t even know their names, and I can’t shake the heavy weight that settles in my gut at the thought of him with either of them. Or, God forbid, both of them.
“I’ll do it,” I say without even thinking.
Leo grins wildly and bear hugs me. He’s hard again, and the embrace turns into a deep kiss followed by another round of languid lovemaking during which he doesn’t try a single thing out of the ordinary. I’m the center of his attention, but I can’t say the same for myself. He’s reawakened feelings I didn’t have long enough to put to bed, and I’m positive I just made a huge mistake.
24
Maddox
The bell over my door jingles at ten p.m. on a Saturday night, and my spine prickles with Pavlovian recognition. I shake it off because there’s no way my instincts are that good. It’s just wishful thinking. Saturdays at this time were when Leo always scheduled his sessions, but I haven’t seen him in a few months, haven’t had any expectations to see him again despite Toni’s visit.
After she dropped in, days passed without any peep from Celeste or Leo, so I gave up hope. I’m better off if they stay away.
I swipe the remnants of ink off the skin of the gangbanger in my chair, then add one final touch. My ears twitch at Sam’s enthusiastic greeting. “Leo! Dude, you are my second-favorite person in the world! Did you really send Toni Valentine to interview me?”
Nothing after that registers beyond the buzz of excitement thrumming in my veins. The motherfucker is here. For what, I have no idea, because he didn’t make an appointment. I rush through cleanup on the client, covering the tattoo with ointment followed by a layer of plastic wrap to protect it. I recite the after-care instructions by rote and almost forget to take payment before I kick him out.
The man looks vaguely worried when he glances toward the bat-wing doors.
“We’re done here, my man,” I say with mild impatience. Out in the reception area, Sam is regaling Leo with a recounting of his meeting with Toni, which the kid hasn’t
