Page 4 of Jimmy

“Here.” She pulled two mugs from the rack. “Have a seat.”

He settled at the counter where she’d directed him and waited. His hands shook. The last woman to invite him to have coffee with her was Jackie, his ex-wife. He’d dated a few times since the divorce, but only one-night-stand kinds of dates. Nothing of substance. But with Karey, he felt a connection, even stronger than the one he’d felt when she looked at him through the window of his store. When she smiled, a piece of his heart melted.

“Here.” She placed two mugs on the table. “My name is Karey. I didn’t know if you’d want cream or sugar. I can get them if you’d like.”

“Black is fine.” Karey. He liked the way her name sounded. “I’m Jimmy.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jimmy. Talking to you in person is much better than me staring at you through the window. I probably looked like a creeper.” She blushed. “I like your work and watch you because I’m fascinated. I’m terrible at art and admire anyone who can draw.”

“When did you stop trying?” he asked, then sipped the coffee. “This is good, by the way.”

“Huh? Thanks.”

“Art is about ability, but it’s also about practice. If you don’t practice, you won’t improve,” he said. “My art professor used to say that. If we’re told at a young age that we can’t draw, it’s ingrained in us. Doesn’t mean we can’t draw -- it means someone said we couldn’t.”

“Would you believe it was my junior high art teacher who said I should find something else to do besides art? I should study more reading and science and less art. I had no talent for it.”

“I’ve never seen your work, but I’d be willing to bet he or she was wrong.” He continued to drink his coffee. “Thank you for this. How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing.” She smiled. “Sharing your company is payment enough.”

“Don’t you get enough attention?” That sounded strange. “I mean, don’t you have someone to chat with?”

“Not for a while.” She wrapped her hands around her cup. “Guys tend to steer clear of me. I’m not pretty like my friend Nikki. She’s probably more your type.”

“You know my type?” He had one, but the more time he spent with Karey, the more he wanted to rethink that type.

“I’d assume tall, blonde, and thin. Guys like tall, skinny blonde women.” She sighed. “I’m not getting any taller, and I’ll never be slender. My brother got the slender genes.”

“What if I told you I’m attracted to you and would like to take you out for drinks?” he asked. “Not just coffee.”

She stared at him. “Me?”

“You.” He held his hand out to her. “I’d like to take you to dinner. How about after you get off work?”

“At nine?” She placed her palm on his, but it seemed like she’d take her hand away at any second.

“Sure.”

“Aren’t you doing tattoos?”

“Not that late. It’s Kurt’s turn to work the second shift.” He caressed her palm with his middle finger. “Would you go to dinner with me?”

She stared at him for a long moment. Her blush intensified, and her eyes widened. “I…” She clasped his hand in hers. “Yes.”

“Perfect. Should I pick you up? I can meet you here when you’re done,” he said. “Do you like motorcycles?”

She wobbled in her chair. “Yes.”

“I’ll take that as a blanket yes.” He winked. “We’ll have a good time.”

“We will.” She pushed an errant lock of hair from her eyes. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Karey?” A man strode up to the table. “I thought you were doing inventory.” He glared at Jimmy. “Who are you?”

“I’m Jimmy McCreadie. I own Tattoo You and thought I’d come down here to visit a block neighbor.” He held up his coffee mug. “And try out the coffee.”

The man crooked his eyebrow. “I see.” He nodded to Karey. “Get back to work. You’re not here to fraternize.”

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