JJ
The third station had existed in my head before I’d even signed the lease.
When Jarek first showed me the empty space beside the clubhouse, I could picture three artists working without bumping elbows. I’d pictured Stitch at the second station almost immediately, and I’d been right about that. What I hadn’t pictured was how quickly the calendar would start filling up with people I couldn’t fit into it.
I was staring at next month’s appointments when Stitch came out of the sterilization area and dropped a stack of consent forms beside reception.
“Please tell me you’re not trying to put another client into Thursday.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re making the face.”
“What face?”
“The one you make when you think you can manufacture six extra hours by skipping lunch.”
I looked down at the calen
