“It’s being delivered tomorrow morning,” Ocean replied as he removed his jacket and placed it on the sofa. He made his way to the living room where he saw Aaliyah’s hummingbird sketch. “In case, I was followed by paparazzi, they wouldn’t see me with an overnight bag coming here.”
“But if they saw you coming here?” Aaliyah questioned. “They would know why you’re here.”
“I can’t say for certain no one saw me but I’m sure me changing cars several times threw off some scents. It’s rather difficult to not be noticed you’re following a new car.” Ocean studied Aaliyah’s sketch. “New tattoo?”
“Um, yeah,” Aaliyah walked up to Ocean and stared down at the drawing. He revealed something about his politician life as if it was just a run of the mill, no big deal, and not the most mind-blowing thing Aaliyah had ever heard. “I’m going to put it on Katrina come Tuesday and then we’ll go from there. I always do my mockups on dark skin so the client knows how it’ll look. If they request the same markup on pale skin, I usually deny it.”
“You don’t run the risk of being accusatory or prejudiced?” He asked. “Sounds like something some people would get butt hurt over.”
“If you don’t want a tattoo based on how it looks on dark skin, that says more about you than it does the artist. When dark-skinned people go to get tattoos, they often see sketches of tattoos on fair-skinned individuals and they know the same tattoos won’t look the same on them. I’ve had an artist tell me I couldn’t get a colored tattoo because of my skin tone, despite me actually having a color tattoo that I showed him. There’s a clear bias in the tattoo industry on black people getting colored tattoos but those same artists don’t hesitate to accept dollars from colored folks. I’m trying to change the stigma.” She explained. “And if they don’t want to deal with me, so be it.”
Aaliyah always held to her beliefs. She never flip-flopped. She never went back and forth. Either she stuck to something or she didn’t do it at all. He loved her tenacity along with her sunflower spirit. She was definitely not a pushover despite how free-spirited she appeared to be. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
The sensual air passed between them and Aaliyah tried to keep it at bay. “I can be at times.” She headed to the kitchen. “Are you hungry? I can make you something.” She opened up various cabinets. She ate rather clean and she knew Ocean did as well, yet her pantry felt short of viable options. “Or, we can order something? I’m sure something is still open here.”
“How about?” Ocean held Aaliyah’s waist and nibbled on her earlobe. “We make love first and then eat second. The only appetite I have is for you and I’m rather hungry.”
Aaliyah was about to take Ocean on his offer until she heard the not-so faint rumble of his stomach. “Or…we can dine first and then you can ravage me second.”
“You drive a hard bargain but I won’t argue,” Ocean stepped aside and opened the refrigerator door. He found his meal within seconds. “Are you in the mood for grilled cheese?”
Aaliyah remembered how amazing Ocean’s grilled cheese sandwiches were. It wasn’t a coincidence she kept some of the ingredients on hand at any given time. “Sure.”
He quickly prepared a late dinner while Aaliyah began to sketch another tattoo. This customer wanted a full sleeve, starting with a lion’s head. The head was going to be half black and white and half watercolor.
The black and white portion of the lion’s head was going to be a mixed of splatter and harsh lines while the actual head remained intact. The color side would showcase the lion’s illustrious mane with soft splashes of pink, blue, and grey surrounding it.
She’d been steadily focused on the piece until Ocean called her over for a late-night snack. “Take a break, baby.”
Aaliyah got up and stretched. Her belly piercing showcased a small loop in a burgeoning pouch. She wasn’t fat, by any means, but she wasn’t as trim as before. She could blame stress or the real culprit – her love of French fries.
She joined Ocean at the counter and felt her mouth watered as he prepared two grilled cheese sandwiches. Ocean never used just one type of cheese, but three – fontina, Colby jack, and pepper jack. Sometimes if he felt fancy, he made a grilled cheese sandwich with brie and warmed cinnamon apple slices.
Ocean once told her his parents sent him off to see his paternal grandparents for a summer in Maine while he was a teenager. He worked at their local pharmacy that was the old-school kind; the type where someone could get a prescription filled, order a lunch, and pick up some Tylenol all within the same setting.
It was there Ocean learned how to cook. Growing up in Bel-Air, he didn’t have to worry about cooking or cleaning for that matter. Chefs prepared his dishes and maids looked after him. His grandparents taught him to clean up after himself and prepare his own meals.
“Be your own man,” his grandfather, Herschel, taught him. He was an older man with white hair and matching beard. He stood close to six feet tall and still had that commanding Marine presence about him. “If you can wipe your own ass, you make your own bed.”
From that moment on, Ocean was the pharmacy’s handyman, cook, busboy, security guard, and cashier. While his grandparents’ filled prescriptions, Ocean scooped out peppermint ice cream for teen girls who gossiped about what boys were cute at the beach. He gave out candy to little kids who had owies and ouchies and proudly showed off their band-aids.
He wiped down sand-filled tables from drunk beach goers who wanted some of that famous home-brewedlennonay(lemonade) they sold. He took down numbers of college women who shamelessly flirted with him, not knowing the family connection but just wanted to get into his pants. He obliged a few requests.
Most importantly, Ocean learned what it was like not to be dependent on his parents’ wealth and access. That summer was the first of many and even when he couldn’t dedicate an entire summer, he still flew out to see his grandparents.
And of course, he helped at the shop.
It was something all of the brothers had in common – to capitalize off the family’s name but also distance themselves from it. They were all proud to be Ellison’s but they were most proud of – even if they didn’t outright admit it – they weren’t their father.
Ocean paired the sandwiches with pickles and potato chips, and fancy LaCroix soda water as he joined his not-quite girlfriend at the counter. “You were working so hard, I figured you needed a serious break.”
“How long was I working?” She asked as he placed a napkin across her lap.
“For about an hour.” He replied. He gathered her hands and blessed the food before they began eating. “I didn’t want to interrupt you and you were very much in the zone.”
“Sometimes, it’ll be like that.” She admitted. “I’ll get started and I don’t know when I’ll be able to stop. It’s a blessing and a curse at the same time.”
“But with beautiful results, always.” He smiled at her.
