Page 11 of Scribbled Excellence

He smiled. “Our sister Tuesday. She’s fire like Tomorrow when it comes to drawing, but she’s more of a sculptor.”

“Your little sister that was out there with you the other day? How old is she?” I was impressed. The skill it took just to do the shading in the sketch was remarkable.

Pride illuminated on Tomorrow’s face. “She’s sixteen. She attendsRiverdale Art Academy.”

August chuckled as I placed the design on his forearm. “When she showed it to us, this one over there started crying like a big baby.” He side-eyed me. “Hope you can handle a crybaby.”

With a titter, I glanced at Tomorrow. The bashful embarrassment was there, but it was cute. My eyes didn’t movefrom her as I spoke. “Trust me, I can handle what’s meant for me.”

I loved to see her blush. I started to prepare my inks for the tat. “So, what does the tat mean, if you don’t mind me asking?”

As my eyes bounced between them, they smiled brightly. August cleared his throat. “I’ll let her tell you her portion when y’all have y’all’s alone time.” He rolled his eyes.

Tomorrow sucked her teeth. “August, stop being annoying. Just tell him what the whole thing means.”

My head tilted toward her brother who now looked annoyed himself. “I guess you want to use your alone time to talk about other shit.” His slitted eyes were on her for a beat before they moved to me.

“Tomorrow is the lighthouse to my ship. As the voyager, I’ve traveled through life, so far, and will travel in the future with the confidence that she will always be my safe place. She’s like my light that guides me and Tuesday. No matter the storm, I know that the lighthouse will always be there, standing strong, waiting for me if I need to find my way home.”

Well, damn.When my head turned to Tomorrow, there were tears in the corner of her eyes. One was successful in its prison break. “Damn, you really are a crybaby. That’s cool, though. As long as they’re happy tears.”

August chuckled, then mumbled, “Told you so. I’ll give you a list of shows and movies to avoid if you are blessed to be in her presence on that level.”

His words caught me off guard, but not in a bad way. He saw the worth in his sister. His words were his silent instruction for me to see it too.Much respect.

For the next hour and a half, I tatted August, and we all had lively conversions. He did good with the pain. I asked him if he wanted to use numbing cream, and he chose not to.

He admired the tat once it was done. “This shit is hot as fuck. Damn, I can’t wait for Tuesday to see her vision alive.”

Tomorrow had his wrist in her hand as she gazed at the tattoo. She was silent. I saw the tear.

“Mar, if you start crying, I’m gonna know something,” I jested. “I see I’m going to have to go to Sam’s Club. I need to always have Kleenex on deck.”

She let go of August’s wrist, then rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Kyro. August, I’ll call you when I’m finished.”

“Well, damn. Not you rushing me.” He grabbed his jacket, chucked us the deuces, and was out.

Now that he was gone, it was time for some alone time. “You ready, love? Come sit over here.”

She moved toward the seat. I intentionally stood in her way so that she would have to get into my space. I loved her in my space already.

“You smell good,” she said quietly. I wasn’t sure if she intended for me to hear her. It seemed like an intrusive thought.

She got comfortable. When I asked her if she wanted to use numbing cream, she declined it also. These days, most females chose to use it.

“Alright, let me see this arm.” Her arm extended. There was a small scar that was right under the inner crease of her arm. I touched it, then asked, “What happened here?”

She looked down at the spot that I touched. Her finger grazed mine when she touched the spot closest to it. “I was like eleven years old, and our mother was off on one of her party nights. I’m not sure where our dad was.” She rolled her eyes, then mumbled, “He was probably in the streets.”

Interesting.That gave me a lot of insight. It also eliminated certain questions I may have wanted to ask.

She huffed, then continued. “August was three and he was hungry, so I tried to cook. I dropped a hot pot on my arm.”

A hiss was released from me at the thought of the pain. “Damn, I know that shit hurt. Were you trying to cover the scar up, because where you said you wanted it won’t?”

She shook her head. “Oh, no! I want to keep my battle scar.”

I started to lay her design where she wanted it to be. Her skin was so damn soft. If her arm was this soft, I could only imagine how soft the rest of her was. “You like getting your tats in silence, or can we talk?”