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Though a shorter day with her was starting to look a lot less appealing.

7

RHIANNON

IT WAS ONE O’CLOCK. Matty and I both had seven more hours to go. I’d been slammed for the past two hours but it was entering that slow window between lunch and dinner when the restaurant was completely empty of customers. Laci was on break, and I was the only one on the floor. I was sitting opposite Matty in his booth with his forearm stretched across the table in front of me.

“You’re sure you trust me this much?” I said, draping the wet napkin over the fake tattoo I’d placed on his skin. “I mean, you just met me. I could have picked something horrible.”

“Like I’m not already wearing something horrible? And how bad can it be? It’s in a machine for kids,” he said, staring off to the side. “Can I look yet?”

“Yes.” I patted the napkin down and sat back into my seat.

He looked at the napkin. “Is it a big one?”

I shrugged. “Medium.”

“Is it black and white or does it have color?” he asked.

“I’m not telling you. You have to wait to see it.”

“You know I’ll never take this off, right?” He gave me a dazzling smile.

I rolled my eyes playfully. “It’s only going to last a few days. Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

I peeled the napkin away and he raised his arm to study the art I’d selected. “Nice.”

“Really? Do you actually like it?”

He turned his wrist from side to side. “Yeah, I do.”

It was the only music-themed tattoo I could find—a series of black and white music notes with the bottoms melting like wax. I’d placed it so the dripping part of the tattoo ended at the wrist where the cuff of a sleeve would.

“Can you read those?” I asked, leaning over to peer at it.

“Yeah. It’s C,C,G,G,A,A,G.”

“Do you know the song?”

“It’s ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.’ The twinkle twinkle part.”

I laughed. “Well, it is a kid’s vending machine.”

“I like it,” he said. “Maybe I’ll get a real one. Different song, though.”

My mind went to his bare chest in his music videos, and how good a tattoo would look there. I had to shake it off. “I should probably do my side work or something,” I said, blushing a little. “I’ll get in trouble if they know I’m sitting.”

“Can I help again?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said, scooting out of the booth. “But you have to stay on the customer side of the counter.”

“Okay. What are we doing? Sugar caddies? Salt and pepper shakers?”

“Both.” I handed him a tray and he started walking it around collecting things.

“Do they ever let you drive the car?” he asked, grabbing the sugar jar off table twelve.