“Is it still there?” I ask, looking up at the sky.

I love my aunt so much, but ever since she bought the RDX-323 version of the drone and had it programmed, it’s been the bane of my existence. It follows me everywhere, like this persistent cat that wants to be petted and fed.

It’s so annoying. Having this spy in the sky constantly looking over my shoulder? It really puts a crimp in me living my life in a manner that suits me.

I’m pretty sure it’s illegal, too.

She loves me, I know she does, and she’s just looking after my best interests. I get that, I totally do. If I were some careless nephew who couldn’t pour water out of a boot with the instructions on the heel, I’d even grant that it’s necessary.

I’m neither careless nor clueless, and it’s just a little stifling.

Ronnie, my best friend since middle school, glances over his shoulder. “Yep. Dude, Austin, why don’t you just talk to her about this serious breach of personal space, man? Get her to understand that you’re not twelve anymore.”

“Are you crazy?” I set the book of my mother’s poetry to the side as we get seated at a small cafe downtown. “My aunt’s mastered the art of guilting me when I try to broach the subject with her.”

Ronnie sets up his laptop and smiles at the waiter as he takes our lunch order. “It’s going to put a crimp in your love life.”

I prop my elbow on the table and rest my chin in my hand. “What love life?”

“My point, man. My point.” Ronnie starts typing. “It’s also going to weird out any potential employer. I don’t think they’ll like this drone following you around like a lost puppy.”

“She’ll just have the drone wait outside until quitting time, pressing its electronic nose against the glass of my office.” I play with the salt and pepper shakers as Ronnie works on the computer.

“Give me time, I’ve almost got that hack ready to roll out.”

I scoot my chair over to watch over his shoulder. “Will she detect it?”

“Is she a programmer?”

I shake my head.

“Then most likely not. Give me your phone.”

I pass him my phone and watch as he hooks it up. A few more keystrokes and he sits back with a triumphant grin. “Ready to test this baby?”

“Yes, gods, yes.” Anything to lose my electronic leash.

I bring up the app he installed on my phone. The menus look just like we’d been planning for months. There, at the center and bottom, is a large red button. I tap it and watch in the reflection of the cafe windows as the drone spins and speeds off. “What’s the location it’s looping now?”

Ronnie reaches over and pulls down the menu. “When we were at the park under the tree. From Maureen’s perspective, it’ll show us there for the rest of the day.”

“Perfect.” For the first time all day, I let out a soft sigh that feels like freedom.

“Don’t forget to record what you’ll loop before you start dodging, otherwise, you’ll end up with a loop of sitting at the pier on a perfectly sunny day when it’s pissing down rain.” Ronnie closes his laptop and takes a sip of his coffee. “So what are you going to do now that you’re a free man?”

My hand lingers over the book before I press my palm flat to it. “I still want the tattoo.”

“Are you sure your aunt won’t flip her shit when she finds out?”

“Well, by then it’ll be too late. It’s not like I can wash it off, right?” Pulling the book over, I flip through the many marked pages to land on one passage I have highlighted. “And laser removal is expensive. So she’ll come around.”

“I can drop you off wherever you want after lunch before returning to work. You know which shop you’re going to?”

I pull out a piece of paper from the back of my book. “That’s the place and address.”

“Treasured Ink. It’s on a good side of town, at least. Some of those places are so seedy. I’d be afraid of picking up a disease or something.”

“They’re highly recommended according to my search.” It had taken some digging to find this place. They weren’t easy to find initially, but once I knew what I was looking for, and where, the search was a cinch.

Ronnie is an expert hacker, no doubt about it. He works for a top software security firm in Stelline City and earns his money because he’s worth every cent. Everything I know about software hacking and security, I learned from him. Still learn from him. So I’m no small shakes when it comes to computers and software. I’m not as good as he is but I can hold my own.

Except he’s the one with the job and I’m the one with a drone watching my every move by a paranoid, but loving, aunt.

We finish up lunch and Ronnie drops me off in front of the tattoo shop. He’s right, the area is fairly nice. It’s got a more eclectic look than my aunt’s suburban neighborhood but it has a nice feel to it.

I can hear the music blaring from the street and it gets louder when someone walks out. I rush forward to step inside before I lose my nerve.

There are tattoos everywhere. The music covers up the buzz of the tattoo machines and the conversation I can see happening. Only two chairs are open and only one person is in the waiting area. I see a tattoo peeking out from beneath her jacket cuffs as they snake down over the top of her hand. One ear has earrings all the way up. She’s standing by the coffee machine chatting with a really big guy with tattoos all down his arms.

I take a seat in one of the chairs and pick up a picture album. There’s a name embossed on the front, Nyve. Flipping it open reveals some of the most beautiful designs I’ve ever seen. Not that I’m much of a tattoo person, but it’s really crazy beautiful. Colorful. Like mini-art on a thigh, a shoulder, or across a back.

I spot a few tattoos that are just words, done decoratively along a swooping swirl, like sea waves. Perfect. So this artist knows how to make a quote look like a design. That’s what I want.

The chair next to me creaks and the large man is now sitting next to me. His arms are mesmerizing. When I look up, I see sparkling blue eyes regarding me quietly. As he smiles at me, a touch of gray at his temples accentuates the laugh lines at the creases of his eyes.

My stomach flips a little when our eyes meet.

I mean, I’ve seen good-looking guys before. But he’s more than good-looking and he’s definitely not just a ‘guy.’ He has the air of age and experience around him, and I’m instantly drawn to that. It means he’s not some dork who’s looking to prove what a ‘man’ he is.

His presence announces he’s a man by the way he sits easily in the chair.

“Is this your first time getting a tattoo?”

Dear gods, his voice. It’s deep and rumbling and it reminds me of caves and safe places. I nod numbly because my voice has decided to take leave.

“That’s my book,” he says again, and I could wrap myself up in that voice and hide away from the world. “Do you have a design in mind? I can also customize a design if you’re not sure.” He looks out at the shop, and oddly, I feel cold. Like even his smile keeps me safe and warm. “And we have other artists here if you don’t find anything you like with me.”

No, no… I think everything’s just fine with him. From the way his chest fills out the t-shirt that stretches across his pecs to the hint of aftershave I can smell. “Nyve,” I finally manage to blurt out.

“That’s me. And you get bonus points for pronouncing it correctly.”

“Right. Sorry. I’m just a little nervous is all.” I hold the picture book out to him. Then I realize that I should just set it down, so before he takes it from me, I put it on the coffee table.

Smooth.

I laugh nervously. “Sorry.”

He puts a hand on my shoulder and he may have well kissed me then and there. The most reassuring, warm, comfortable, intimate, and desirable feeling washes over me. My cheeks heat and I press my hand against my face to try to cool down.

“Why don’t we start again.” He removes his hand and that same cold, abandoned, disappointed sensation swamps me again. “I’m Nyve,” he says, and he holds his hand out to shake.

“Austin,” I manage to reply, taking his hand.

“And you’re here, Austin, to get a tattoo.”

I want to hear him say my name again.

Is this what it feels like to be intensely attracted to someone? I’ve never been this attracted to anyone in this way. Ever. “Yes,” I say again.

“So do you have something in mind?” Nyve releases my hand. He twists in the chair to hook one of his arms over the back of it. Now facing me, his size is even more apparent. I feel like a twig next to him.

“Yes.” I thrust the book out. When he glances down at it, again with that smile that makes my insides all scrambled, I realize what an idiot I really must look like. I fumble trying to get the passage open to the quote I want done. “This, actually. This quote here.”

He takes the book and glances down the page to the passage I have highlighted. He closes the book on his thumb to look at the cover. “Songs of the Trees and Kisses from the Sky,” he reads. “This is the book that put Sandra Feutoile on the map as a poet. It’s one of my favorite collections from her. It’s her most mature writing.”

He knows about my mother? Wait, he’s read my mother’s poetry?

“Yeah. Mine, too. One of the few legacies she left me.” Melancholy threatens to dampen my spirits. That’s why I’m there, to solidify my attachment to her by having one of my favorite phrases indelibly inked on my shoulder.

He flips the cover open to the dedication page. “So you’re the Austin she mentions?”

My cheeks heat again and I nod. “That’s me.”

“She was a talented poet taken too soon from us. I’m sorry for your loss.”

It’s funny, when people usually tell me that, the melancholy that can bring my mood down hits me hard. Especially because I don’t believe people half the time. They vaguely knew who my mother was and I can bet they’d never read her.

Coming from Nyve, it sounds sincere and actually gives me hope that this tattoo is in good hands and my choice is a fitting tribute to her. “Thank you.”

“So.” He flips the book open again and taps the highlighted passage. “This is what you want?”

“Yes. But not just the words. I want it to be like a picture, you know? Like, movement on my skin.” I stop, the blush threatening to overtake me again. “I know that sounds stupid.”

“It doesn’t. I promise you that every one of us at the shop understands exactly what you’re saying. Did you want to look at the work by the other guys and make a decision on who will do it?”

“No,” I rush to say. “No, I want you to do it.”

His smile makes my stomach do that flipping thing again. “Alright, why don’t you come on back and we can talk about what’ll make you happy.”

Oh, I think I know what’ll make me happy.