Page 52 of Born to be Wilder

Rip jumped up. “Oh crap! Sorry! I didn’t realize you didn’t know that was part of the deal. It’s not always! It depends on the situation. You may be able to keep your nips!”

We fanned her face with a tattoo magazine as she stared wordlessly at the ceiling for almost a minute.

“Sorry,” she finally whispered, pulling herself back together as she sat up. “That was... shocking. It’s one thing to lose the inside and get an implant... and I was just starting to wrap my brain around that. But my nipples? I love my nipples. Alejandro loves my nipples.”

That armor she wore cracked briefly as grief and fear washed over her face. Her lip trembled for just a moment before she stiffened it up once again.

She stopped. Pressed her lips together. “This is a lot of information to receive from a tattoo artist in Mississippi.”

“I’m really sorry.” Rip handed her a glass of water. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“No, I—” She straightened. Sat up fully, took a sip, then handed back the glass. “I needed to know. I’m going to decide on this trip between a lumpectomy and a double mastectomy, so this is good to understand.” She looked at us, something working across her face that she then put firmly away.

“You’ve got this, Alice,” Rip said softly. “Whatever they take, we can reclaim. I promise.”

“Thank you, Rip. Now, let’s finish what we started.” She climbed back on her knees, nodding.

“You’re one tough cookie, Alice,” he said. Then the hum of his ink gun fired up again and he finished.

When we were all done, he had us line up and each pull down one cheek of our pants. He took one photo for us, one for his wall, and one to send to his best friend.

“She’s gonna love this. You four are the best customers I’ve ever had. I mean that.”

Alice pulled out a wad of cash, but he lifted his hands, backing away. “Nah. These are on me. It was an honor, ladies.”

She slowly walked toward him, leaned in, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Rip. And if I lose my nipples, there’s only one man I want to help me build them back.”

“It would be my honor.” He pressed a hand to his chest and folded into a bow.

But instead of pocketing the money, Alice reached into her purse and grabbed even more, setting what looked like a couple thousand dollars on the table. “Take your friend on a vacation. Somewhere warm and tropical. She deserves it. And so do you.”

He stared at it wordlessly as we bid him goodbye.

We walked back toward Bertha in a loose, warm cluster, the night air cool on our faces, the neon of The Rusty Spur still glowing down the block.

“The cancer card,” Marge said, shaking her head slowly. Then she spread her hands. “Powerful business.”

“I’m not going to drop the cancer card this whole trip,” Alice said.

“I’m just saying⁠—”

“I know what you’re saying.”

“It got us tattoos is all. From a man named Rip. At midnight. In Mississippi.”

Alice was quiet for a moment. Then, in spite of everything, the corner of her mouth moved. “Powerful business, indeed.”

I walked between them with a tender hiney and a full heart.

Marge slung an arm around me. “Doris. You got a tattoo on your butt.”

“I did.” A giggle escaped my lips.

“What’s Axel going to say?”

“Honestly? I have no idea. I hope he likes it, but this? This was for us.”

Sylvie smirked. “What’s your Bible study group going to say?”