5. Their busy lives.

It was a good thing Jose had a spare key to Racher Art's main door. Otherwise, he would have had to wait for his boss to open the door even though his hands were swollen from knocking and pressing the bell repeatedly, but the owner never came out, even though Jose had called his cell phone dozens of times. Denis's baby–like mood returned, and Jose thought he could guess why.

The man walked up the stairs to Denis' room, and he didn't need to knock again to find his friend's body because the rectangular object that separated the room and the outside had been wide open since Jose arrived.

A distinctive aroma wafted from inside the room. Several beer cans were lying on the floor beside the bed. When Jose checked one by one, there was only a whole can of beer left, but it had also been opened. Denis's ammunition from last night–after coming home from 24Night, the man was still lying on his big bed without a T-shirt on, but others wouldn't be able to see Denis's biceps if the body had various pictures to the neck.

"Are you this frustrated that you're going through your fridge, man?" Jose put all the beer cans in the plastic bin, and it was still up to him to clean up.

As he was about to get out of there, Jose was a little put off by the fact that Denis was still lying comfortably while the shorthand of his watch was about to strike nine. "This guy, he always lives like a baby."

After placing the trash can by the door, Jose pulled the curtains until the sunlight was free to roam, to hell with disturbing Denis' slumber. "Hey, don't you have a schedule today? I hope you didn't cancel it for your baby's temper. That customer's been waiting a long time for a Thunder Bird on his back, man."

Still not getting a response, Jose unhesitatingly pulled Denis' legs so hard that his best friend fell onto the rug.

"Argh!" The screech was the sound of relief.

"I don't want to deal with your customers or make excuses if they come. I already have my schedule." Jose glanced at the watch. "In less than thirty minutes, the first customer will arrive, and I have to take care of you too. Oh, come on, boss. Are you depressed just because a girl didn't share her cell phone number with you?"

The t-shirtless body ached, but Denis still tried to get up because this wasn't something Jose had done once or twice. "What time is it?"

"Close to nine. Get up, and I'll make you breakfast." Jose carried his trash can out of the room without closing the door while Denis sat on the edge of the bed, adjusting the bangs that sometimes covered his eyes.

A black sedan pulled up right behind Denis' car parked on the side of the road. The sexy owner with sunglasses got out. She had every intention of visiting Racher Art this early.

"Where's Denis?" asked Selena as she saw Jose busy tying the apron strings in front of the fridge. The pantry had no dedicated room and was located near the stairs, so one's entry and exit were through the door dividing the workspace–then one could freely see the area.

Jose chuckled. "I'm getting busier. Will my salary go up too?" He didn't answer Selena's question and glanced over as she eagerly descended the stairs.

Denis was coming out of the bathroom attached to his sleeping area when he found Selena sitting on the edge of the bed, the woman looking annoyed.

"What are you doing here?" asked Denis.

"Looking for you, don't you realize you owe me a date? Last night you just left –didn't even answer my calls. Isn't that annoying?"

"Sorry." Denis opened the cupboard and pulled a T-shirt from there, but Selena stood behind his back and hugged him after the T-shirt was successfully wrapped around his body. "I'm exhausted."

"I'll go, but do something as an excuse if you won't break any more promises, Denis. Waiting is so frustrating for me."

Denis grunted. He tugged on Selena's hand until the woman's position moved from back to front. Now the cupboard door became a backrest as Denis licked his lips to keep Selena from protesting, a morning that began with a passionate peck on Racher Art.

***

The classic and vintage feel of Luke's pizzeria is felt as soon as one enters the place, with Luke himself decorating the business area despite taking a while to find the right pieces.

The main room is quiet, with only a handful of customers at ten o'clock in the morning. However, the people in the kitchen are already busy with their activities, as Luke is not the only one in charge of the pizza. He employs three people to handle the kitchen, although they often help out.

Luke saw Marra's appearance through the glass door in the kitchen, and the girl seemed to be talking to Anna–the main room waitress. Immediately, Luke washed his hands of the sauce that had soiled his hands before removing his apron.

"Noah, give me two slices of that new flavor you've been making," Luke pleaded as he approached one of the busy employees bent over removing cooked pizzas from the oven deck.

"I'll cut them for you, boss. Just a moment." Noah transferred the hot pizza to a round wooden cutting board, usually used to serve pizza to customers who stopped by the restaurant. Now Noah cut it with the pizza cutter neatly before transferring two slices to a plate–which he shared with Luke. "Be careful, and it's still boiling."

"Thank you." Luke carried the plate out of the kitchen–towards Marra, sitting alone in the corner of the room. The girl was busy gathering her hair into a ponytail, and she had also taken off her pink pizzeria employee ID jacket.

"Are you here yet?" Luke greeted without forgetting to smile. He pulled a chair near Marra and sat there.

"Just now, no order yet?"

"No, have you eaten?" As Luke predicted, Marra shook her head. "Then try the new menu today. I've also written it in the ordering section. People should try it soon."

"New flavors?"

Luke nodded. "It's still hot, and I'll blow it up for you." The man pinched a slice of pizza using his fingers. Even though Luke felt the heat flowing through the hand area, he still blew in front of Marra.

"Don't. I can do it myself, and it'll only torture you." Marra took out a mini fan from the waist bag she was wearing. "This tool is handy."

"That's right."

"I think Boss should have one, too. It's easier for you to carry around than the blower in your kitchen." Marra smiled mockingly. The wind from the fan was quite effective in removing the hot steam on the pizza.

"Maybe because I've lived in the kitchen for so long, I've become an ancient human who doesn't know anything."

"I agree." Marra laughed softly. "I'm going to taste this food. Have you tried it first?" She picked up a slice of pizza and began to bite into the end of the triangle.

"I always try it before giving orders to the people in the kitchen."

"Right, I had forgotten."

"So, how did the food taste?"

From Marra's expression, she showed satisfaction. "It's delicious. After all, when did you sell flavorless food?"

"If that's the case, finish it. It would help if you replenished your energy before the orders came. Working at this place should make you fat, but look at it, and it must be no more than 45kg."

"Listen to me, boss. If your worker is fat, how will he move nimbly to and fro while on duty?" Look at Marra's adorable cheeks as the pizza sits there while the owner talks.

"When have I ever won an argument with you?" Luke realized he always lost arguments with Marra but never tired of repeating his mistakes.

"Next time, when you're lucky."

The man moved on. "Alright, don't forget to finish that pizza. I have to do something back there."

"He's too kind to keep doing this to me. God did drop one of his angels into this restaurant," Marra muttered as she stared at Luke's broad back as he drew away before disappearing behind the kitchen door.

***

The man was a stickler for tattoos that required him to maintain a focal point from start to finish, and Denis had been doing this for years, opening Racher Art himself even though he was still paying rent on the two–story building he also lived in. Denis could have bought the place, and he had a lot of money earned from manipulating women.

She wondered if Denis might take Racher Art away from Manila one day to Cebu, for example, both metropolitan cities in the Philippines, right?

The jet-black needle continues to pierce the left arm of a male client who asks for a symbol of Carpe Diem, Latin for 'seize the day.' The hand repeatedly takes turns touching the black ink and the client's skin to forget the pain. Denis likes to invite them to chat even though the pain of the needle piercing the skin only really attacks when the tattoo session ends.

"If I were you, I wouldn't dare to ink my skin with these things," says Denis, standing to the right of his client, who sits on the surface of the execution mat.

"Why, my parents love art. I think they'd approve even though I'm only sixteen," the high school boy named Gabriel said. He had booked Denis' time months ago and only got the space today.

"Are you sure? Aren't you afraid that after you leave this place, your mom and dad will yell at you or lock you in the bathroom?" The movement of his eyes was very noticeable under the light that only highlighted the part of Gabriel's arm, every second of which seemed to be excruciating–for those who first received the touch of needles piercing the skin from one side to the other.

Gabriel wanted to laugh, but he held back so that his body movements wouldn't disturb Denis' focus as he mapped the arm that was beginning to be decorated with half of the Carpe Diem symbol. "They wouldn't act like that, they're my parents, and they're very nice. They have tons of advice. What kind of parents lock their kids in the bathroom?"

Denis' hand movements stopped for a moment. He gazed at the picture frame without photos hanging on the window side of the room, then resumed work. Denis no longer engaged Gabriel in conversation. He was free to let the teenager grimace in pain.

"You have so many tattoos on your body. Won't they be angry? I mean your parents." Gabriel spoke again.

"No one cares, it's my life, and I'm entitled to everything. They don't exist." It was easy for Denis to discuss it because they all didn't exist. For several years Denis had been alone like an outcast child, but this was fun when he enjoyed his freedom without the touch of rough hands.

"Don't talk about it, and Denis is quite sensitive." Jose's voice interrupted the conversation as he appeared near the door, his hand starting to lift the cold canned drink he had taken from the refrigerator in the main room.

"Jose is right," Denis replied. "I'm quite sensitive when it comes to my parents. My life isn't as good as yours, so enjoy, Gabriel."

"Listen, Gabriel. It would help if you made a good impression when you returned from this place because you're learning directly from the expert. The tattooist next to you is the teacher of all teachers."

"Really?" Gabriel forgot his pain again. "Is Denis also willing to do my schoolwork?"

Jose laughed while Denis smiled amusedly. The teenager before him was too innocent but dared to color his body with tattoos. "You'll have to pay me handsomely if I do your schoolwork."

"Hey, Gabriel. Do you have a girlfriend? There must be a lot of pretty girls at your school." Jose asked. He went over and sat in the chair Denis was supposed to use. Maybe Jose's business with the other client was over, so he was free from work.

"I like someone, but she belongs to my friend."

"Well then, learn how to get girls from Denis instead of you asking him to do your school work. Denis is better suited for that."

"Really? I'll do it next time."

"Clever, I like the way you are. Soon the girls of the school will make you their idol, just like when the girls chased after Denis. My boss is an expert in approaching women."

"Jose, I have two options for you. First, get out of this place because you're ruining my focus. Second, I'm ready to cut your monthly tip. How about it?" Okay, Denis started threatening subtly. If it was like this, Jose had to take a thousand steps like Naruto. The mohawk-haired man got up from the chair and stepped aside because he didn't want to lose the tip money that was always abundant if he did his job well.

"Good, boss. You're understanding." Jose got up from the chair. "Remember what I said earlier, Gabriel, learn how to date someone from the experts. You have to make a good impression when you leave this place. No woman would dare refuse Denis."

Refuse?

Hearing that made Denis' hand movements again stop, he swallowed hard, remembering his failure last night, and the girl's sarcastic voice again greeted the sense of hearing.

That damn girl, it won't be long before someone takes revenge on you.

***