Page 7 of Jimmy

“I recommend the burgers.”

“Should I get off?” She wasn’t sure where to go or what to do.

“Stay there. You’re a natural on the bike.” He flashed a brilliant smile. “What’ll you have?”

“A burger, fries, and tea. Thank you.” She took the helmet off since she didn’t need to wear it when the vehicle was stopped. Her hair slid in front of her eyes.

“Mind if I put in the order?” He tapped a button to call the carhop.

“Go ahead.” She tried to finger-comb her hair back into place. Did she look okay?

He gave the young man on roller skates the order, then focused on her. “So…”

“So.” She held onto the helmet. “I’m glad you asked me to dinner. I’m starving.”

“I am, too.” He leaned on the post next to the bike and crossed his ankles. “How long have you worked at Last Exit?”

“Two years. It’s steady and pays the bills. Honestly, I started there because I needed a job when my scholarships ran out, and I realized I liked working with books. It’s not enough to pay for college, but I can live on what I make.” She knew she sounded sad, but not that much so. Jesus.

“What did you study?” he asked. “At Northern?”

“I started out at a community college when I was seventeen, but I had to do that part-time, and it wasn’t enough to get all the credits I needed.” She picked at the foam on the helmet. “If I hadn’t earned the scholarships, I wasn’t going to be able to go to college. I tried to make it work with what I make at Last Exit, but it’s not enough. I’ll have to keep saving up.”

“Good for you for trying.” He crossed his ankles the other way. “Do you like Brighton?”

“I do. The library services program at Northern is top-notch, and I jumped at the chance to be here.” She wasn’t about to tell him her mother had run off and she’d lost her roots at home in Lorain.

“So… no degree, then?”

“No. It’s either study and have a piece of paper saying I’m qualified to be a librarian’s assistant or eat.” She chuckled. “As you can see, I like food.”

“You look fine.” He stood tall as the carhop returned with their food. “Thank you.” He offered her one of the burgers and fries.

She ate in silence, not sure what to say. The last date she’d been on had been with Brett and had been a disaster.

Jimmy wasn’t a disaster.

She summoned her courage. “What got you into tattooing?”

“My uncle had a shop,” he said. “He normalized having ink, then I liked how they looked, and I liked art.” He finished his fries. “I can draw, so tattooing seemed natural.”

“You’re good.”

“Would you believe I wanted to be an art teacher?” he asked. “Crazy, right?”

“I don’t know how you are at teaching others, but based on your talent, I can see it.” She sipped her tea. “Why didn’t you get your degree? Or did you?”

“I stopped two years in.”

She scooted back in her seat. “Want to sit?”

“In a little while. I’ve been busy tattooing and haven’t stretched much. Feels good to stand. Plus, the tray works right here on the stand.”

“Okay.” She ate her burger. “I’ll share my seat if you want.”

“I’m sure you will,” he said. “To answer your question, I stopped because I’m not a book learner and because I was in an accident. I lost too much time recuperating and decided I’d rather do art than learn about it. I apprenticed with my uncle, met Kurt, and we decided to branch out. We settled here and twelve years later, we’re still here.”

“Nice.”

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