Indelible (2 page)

“You need a nice girl like her.” Perez indicated a woman passing on the sidewalk outside.

The woman paused, face to the late-afternoon sun. Her hair fell around her shoulders, light drifting through the blond strands like a movie-perfect halo, and Luna wanted to trace the light dusting of freckles on her cheeks with her fingers. She imagined her shoulder—a crisp white cotton sheet falling around it—sun-kissed and dappled with freckles, each one begging to be kissed.

Before Luna could fall into the fantasy completely, Ruby stepped between her and Perez, steaming mug of coffee clutched in both hands.

“Yummy,” she purred. “In a pearls-and-angora kind of way.”

Luna mentally growled. Not that she didn’t agree with Ruby, but she was not in the mood to share. Naughty thoughts were best savored alone, then acted out with willing partners. She was still in the savoring stage and not yet in the mood to act it out with Ruby.

Another woman who wore tighter clothes and aggressive makeup wrapped her arm around Luna’s dream lover’s waist and squeezed her middle. They laughed together for a moment, then continued their walk.

The first woman was soft lines and Betty Crocker wholesome. The second looked the type to corrupt even the most innocent of the girl-next-door brigade. Luna wanted to intervene. She wanted to be the one doing the corrupting. Odd that she was jealous of an unknown woman separated from her by a sheet of storefront glass, but not of Ruby’s obvious interest. Despite the lack of emotional ties, they had a working commitment. They were casually exclusive.

“I’m heading out.” Ruby kissed her on the cheek. “See you later tonight?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Luna nodded. Her last appointment was scheduled for nine thirty that night. She was adding gold and blue to a full sleeve she had inked in the previous week. She planned to be done in an hour, an hour fifteen, tops.

Luna watched Ruby walk away, captivated by the generous sway of her hips.

“Focus.” Perez smacked her with a rolled-up property listing. “Coraggio won’t move itself.”

Luna put away her daydreams and picked up the stack of property listings. Only four more inches to sort through. Then the business plan. Then the loan application. She dropped her head to the table again. At this rate, the only thing to progress would be the size of her headache.

Monday, July 13

“It’s seriously disturbing to watch you eat that thing.” Angie Dressen wrinkled her nose before she carefully licked her nonfat frozen yogurt—the boring, safe cousin to Tori’s calorie-laden, sugar-coma-inducing treat.

Tori swept her tongue over the ice cream, collecting as much as possible. She waggled it at Angie before pulling it into her mouth with a loud slurp. “If it’s so disturbing, you shouldn’t watch.”

“But, honey, you know I like to watch.” Angie gave her best lascivious grin, complete with jiggling eyebrows. Since this was all the action she was likely to get tonight—or any other night, at the rate she was going—she wanted to make the most of it.

“Baby, I’ll let you do more than watch.” Tori’s voice dropped to an indecently seductive level as she moved closer to Angie.

Tori’s blatant sexuality used to shock Angie, even made her drop her frozen yogurt completely the first time she said something so overt. Now it just made her laugh. “Ain’t never gonna happen.”

Tori shrugged and took another long swipe of vanilla, letting her tongue linger.

“You have plans for this weekend?”

So they’d moved on to polite conversation already? Usually it took a little longer for them to reach this point during their walk. After all, Tori knew the answer to her question. Angie didn’t have plans. She never had plans beyond working, hanging out with Oliver, and trying to put a dent in her ever-growing list of chores around the house. “Not so much. You?”

“Could be.” Tori peered over the top of her sunglasses at a passing woman wearing ass-hugging shorts and a barely there baby-doll tee. She stopped walking and turned to watch the woman until she disappeared into the next building. “Nice.”

Angie agreed. The woman had obvious charms, but what was the point of looking if she couldn’t explore further? “You have a date?”

Tori pushed her glasses back into position. “If I get lucky, yes. I’m going to the E Room. You should come.”

Tori invited Angie dancing every weekend and Angie always declined. “You know I can’t.”

Tori took another bite of ice cream. She was down to the cone. “Come on, Angie, by the time you get home, Oli’s already in bed. He won’t know the difference if you’re a couple hours later.”

No, she supposed he wouldn’t. But she would. Her priority since the day Oliver was born had been to be a good mom, not have a good time. She did date occasionally, but the pickup world that Tori lived in was so far away from Angie’s reality, she could barely imagine it. “I can’t. It’s not a good idea.” Angie finished her yogurt and tossed the cup into a street-side trashcan. Tori’s ice-creamless cone followed.

“We’re almost there.” Tori pointed at the business to their left.

“Are you
sure
you want to do this?” Angie paused at the far edge of the building. If they didn’t enter Coraggio, then Tori wouldn’t be able to do anything stupid. They walked past this building twice a day, but yesterday was the first time Tori had showed any interest in the business itself. Suddenly she was rushing to get a tattoo.

“Yes, for the millionth time, I’m sure.” Tori grabbed Angie’s arm and dragged her the last few feet. Without releasing her hold, Tori wrenched open the door and urged Angie none-too-gently through the opening. “Come on.”

“I just don’t get it.” Angie looked around the small shop.
Coraggio
was painted in loose flowing script across one wall. Line drawings and pictures of fresh tattoos covered every available surface. “Why would anyone
want
a tattoo?”

“I can think of a couple of reasons.” A woman with long, untamed, curly brown hair stood against the customer side of the counter, one hip resting comfortably against the edge. Her legs, lean and encased in supple leather the same color as her hair, were crossed at the ankles. She smiled, the barest hint of a dimple popping out, and said, “I’m Luna.” Her gaze lingered on Angie, a sexy, slow appraisal.

Angie never realized leather pants could look that good outside of the movies. She subtly ran her hand over her mouth. Rather, she hoped she was being subtle, but how covert can one really be when checking for drool? She forced herself to take a steady breath and wondered how many tattoos Luna had. The only visible one was an angel on her right bicep. Rather than the soft, glowing angels Angie remembered from her brief stint at a Catholic grade school, Luna’s was in stark relief, bold with hard lines and sharp angles.

A second woman stepped around the counter, wearing just as much leather and more tattoos than Luna. “And I’m Perez.”

“I’m Tori.” Tori shook Perez’s hand, clinging a little too long in typical Tori fashion. She was quick to decide what—or who—she wanted, and just as quick to make it known. Angie envied her that ability. Tori threw an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “This is Angie.” She nudged Angie toward Luna.

“Hi.” Angie wasn’t sure what to do. What was appropriate tattoo-parlor etiquette? Should she offer to shake hands? Bump knuckles? Grunt? She settled on a shy finger wave and immediately felt like an idiot.

Luna’s smile was like the hot sun on cool, fresh-from-the-swimming-pool skin, and Angie was captivated. She wanted to bask in this woman, which shook her. She usually kept her emotions tight to her chest. Extreme, immediate reactions didn’t fit into her stable, workaday life.

“I bet you’d look great with a tattoo.” Luna gestured toward the drawings on the wall and moved closer to Angie—close enough to touch.

“Uhm” was all Angie managed.

Luna took a hold of Angie’s hand, turned it palm up, and traced a circle on the inside of her wrist. “This is a great spot for a small, intimate tattoo. Something special, perhaps?”

Angie shivered. Between Luna’s captivating smile and her touch, Angie was trapped. She knew she should step back or respond. Anything. But she was completely vapor-locked. She just wanted to dip her tongue into the dimple on Luna’s left cheek. Every well-thought-out argument against tattoos evaporated with the heat of Luna’s gaze.

“Or maybe here?” Luna’s voice dropped to a lower register. Already whiskey rough, the tone promised all manner of naughty fun. She didn’t release Angie’s hand as she ran her fingers over the defined edge of Angie’s bicep.

Angie’s brain misfired, and she barely registered the sound of someone entering from the back room.

Luna released Angie. She took a step back and smiled—a sexy smile that melted a place Angie had all but forgotten about.

“Hello, lover.” The woman had brown hair so dark it was almost black, cut in a perfect hard-lined bob. After she stole into the room and wrapped her arm around Luna’s waist, she stared at Angie, her eyes flashing with unmistakable jealousy. Angie got the message loud and clear. “You almost ready?”

“I’m not sure.” Luna gave the woman a brief, yet excessively intimate kiss. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll let you know.”

Angie’s rush of envy was followed by relief. Luna had a girlfriend. The temptation was off the table.

The woman looked at Tori and Angie, her gaze lingering on Angie. “Well, if it isn’t June Cleaver in the flesh,” she purred, the words half threat, half invitation.

“June Cleaver?” The assessment torqued Angie. Yes, she looked like every other soccer mom she’d ever met, but she wasn’t the one wearing pearls. The woman clinging to Luna had a string of obviously fake ones around her neck. Big and gaudy, they rested between the broad red lapels that framed her neck. Her shirt was open several buttons past decent, and her skirt, with its wide matching belt, swirled around her legs a la sexy pinup girl. She looked like the quintessential 50s housewife on porn.

“Honey, I didn’t say it was a
bad
thing.” The tone of her voice assured Angie that she thought it was terrible.

“Ruby.” Luna placed a restraining hand on Ruby’s arm.

Angie swallowed a growl. She didn’t know what upset her more, Ruby’s—her name was a perfect match for her cultivated harlot look—tone or Luna’s physical proximity to Ruby.

“Don’t make me wait too long, lover.” Ruby dragged a finger over Luna’s shoulders, prolonging contact as she eased away, finally disappearing into the back room.

“I apologize about that. Ruby can be a little…overbearing.” Luna’s smile was sad around the periphery. “Now, about that tattoo?”

Tori checked back in to the conversation. “It’s for me.” She had been simply staring back and forth between Angie and Ruby, with the occasional glance at Luna. Watching Tori’s head move from person to person was making Angie dizzy, and she wasn’t even the one switching focus rapidly.

Tori and Luna ironed out the business details, confirming design choice and colors, and Angie listened, unsure if she should intervene. Tattoos—or any other permanent alteration to her body—made no sense. It wasn’t like Tori would be able to trade it out for an updated version in a few years.

“Wait.” Angie had to make one more plea. She loved Tori too much not to do that.

“Ang, we’ve been over this.” Tori patted her arm. “Just hold my hand and tell me distracting stories.”

“But it’s just so…
permanent
. Think about when you’re sixty. What starts out now as a cute little pink teddy bear will look like a wad of bubble gum stuck to your ankle in thirty years.”

Luna arched an eyebrow, folded her arms across her chest, and quirked her lips into the cutest half smile. Her eyes said
I dare you
, but her mouth remained silent. She waited for Tori’s response.

“First, I’m not getting a pink anything. Second, I’ll deal with sixty when I get there.”

“Fine.” Angie didn’t think it was fine at all.

“Good.” Tori took Angie’s hand and said to Luna, “Let’s do this.”

Bob Marley’s “I Shot the Sheriff” played softly in the background, and it reminded Angie of every time she’d come home to find her father and his current girlfriend getting stoned at the kitchen table. She’d made the rounds through the house opening windows and doors, trying to air the place out, and learned early on that her homework came out for shit if she did it with a contact high.

Angie looked around for the familiar signs that someone had recently smoked up and thankfully found nothing. The last thing Tori needed was a stoner leaving an indelible fuck-up on her arm.

“I’ll watch the front.” The way Perez’s eyes lingered on Tori said she’d rather watch her instead.

Angie considered offering to trade places. The thought of a needle entering and exiting Tori’s skin in rapid-fire procession made Angie feel a little green. She’d much rather hang around out front and warn people away from a similar fate.

Luna led them to a semiprivate area that held a barber chair and a rolling cart filled with supplies. “This seat is for you.” As she waited for Tori to sit she said, “You need to lose the shirt if you want a tattoo on your shoulder.”

Tori sloughed off her shirt without hesitation. “Now what?”

For the moment, her over-the-top eagerness amused Luna. Time would tell if she deserved the ink Luna was about to give her. It also didn’t hurt that she’d brought along some total eye candy for moral support, which was a mystery to Luna. First, Tori obviously didn’t need someone to hold her hand through this procedure. She clearly knew what she wanted. And second, her friend was not a fan of body art, a flaw that Luna was willing to forgive providing that Angie continued to look good and stay quiet.