Page 51 of Born to be Wilder

“Right cheek! Gotta match, Doris!” She stuck her rear up for Rip to do his work.

When Rip started her tattoo, she shrugged it off, saying, “I was in ’Nam. I’ve had splinters that hurt worse than this.”

Of course, Rip had to hear everything, so as he branded her with our Wilder Widows mark, she told him everything from Vietnam to meeting me to our latest adventures that left her with a missing tooth.

“One hundred percent agree,” he said as he finished her ink. “The shark tooth would look amazing, Marge.”

She jutted a thumb over her shoulder, pointing at Rip. “See. Told you the shark tooth would look cool. Rip agrees.”

Alice rolled her eyes. “I’ll knock it right out of your face if you ever smile and it’s a shark tooth.”

Marge responded with a closed fist. “I’ll bop you right back.”

Alice pursed her lips. “You can’t. I have cancer.”

Marge’s mouth flew open with her gasp. “Did you just drop the cancer card on me?”

Alice grinned slyly. “Dropped.”

With a giant laugh, Marge wagged a finger at her. “Well played, Alice. Well played.”

After Marge was done, we dragged Sylvie into the chair.

“It’s going to hurt, isn’t it?” She slowly tugged down her pants.

“I thought it was nothing.” Marge shrugged, admiring her tattoo in the mirror.

“It wasn’t as bad as I expected, but it did sting a bit. Like a sunburn,” I said.

Sylvie screamed and swore at us through her entire procedure, but when Rip finished and she saw herself in the mirror, she couldn’t stop smiling.

“I have a tattoo! Oh my gosh, I did it! I got a tattoo!”

She got up, and Marge and I gave her a high five.

“Well?” Rip asked, gesturing to the chair. “Are you joining them?”

Alice dropped her pants without a word, her red thong causing us all to gawk as she strode confidently to the chair and got on her knees.

“Let ’er rip, Rip.”

She remained stoic through the process, only wincing a few times as Rip worked.

While the needle buzzed against her skin, she stared straight ahead. “Cancer may think it’s in control of my body,” she said, her voice like iron, “but it’s not. I am. And this tattoo will help me remember that. Through this fight ahead, it will remind me of my strength even if…” She paused, closing her eyes tight against a pain that wasn’t the needle carving her skin. “Even if they have to take my breasts.”

Rip looked up at her even though she was turned away, his kind brown eyes filled with sympathy. “You know, my best friend had a double mastectomy. They couldn’t spare the nipples, so she came to me. I did 3D nipple tattoos for her. They look amazing. You can’t even tell. If they have to take your nipples, find someone to do it for you, or even better, come on back and I’ll do them myself. Free of charge, of course.”

The color drained out of Alice’s face. She went as white as the antiseptic wipes.

“Alice?” I leaned in. “Alice, you okay?”

“Nip... nip... what? They may take my… my… my nipples?” Alice stammered. Then her eyes rolled back.

“She’s going down! Man down!” Marge yelled.

“Alice!” Sylvie shrieked.

We caught her just as she slid off the chair. She went limp for a moment, her body cupped in our arms before she blinked rapidly.