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Mia hopped up from her seat. Joni held out a hand and Mia helped her. Joni sighed. “I wonder what my ankles look like. It’s been so long since I’ve seen them.”
Jazz crawled over to her, lifted her pant leg and said, “Furry. They’re furry.”
“You’re so not helpful,” Joni said with a laugh.
Jazz stood up. “It wasn’t a judgment, it was fact.”
Brielle came back into the room, her phone clutched in her hand. “Two things. One,” she looked at Jazz, “your dog peed on a customer.”
Jazz grinned. “That’s my boy. What’s the other thing?”
Brielle turned and looked directly at me. “Two, your sister and her friends are at Three Kings.”
I groaned. “She promised me.”
“Promised you what?” Brooklyn asked.
“That she wouldn’t get into trouble.”
“She’s not in trouble,” Brielle said.
“She’s underage and she’s at a tattoo parlor,” I said. “Damn it.”
Darcy raised her glass to me. “Welcome to motherhood.”
“The bartender has a heavy hand,” I muttered. “I’m sorry to pull you away from the party.”
Brooklyn put on her blinker and looked in the rearview mirror. “I was the only one entirely sober aside from Joni. I don’t mind. Plus, I kind of want to find out about all this drama with Waverly while we’re on the way to get her.”
“You’re terrible,” I said with a laugh. “My life amuses you?”
“Kinda. My life is nothing if not serene now. Smooth sailing with my super-sexy biker husband.”
“Slash is still on you about pulling back?”
“Yeah. He’d be happy if I sat around at home, knitting little booties for the baby. But that’s Allison’s territory.”
“I think he’d prefer that even if you weren’t pregnant.”
“Too true.” She smiled. “It’s nice having someone worrying about me all the time.”
“It’s not smothering?”
“Oh. It’s completely smothering.” She laughed. “But it’s still sweet. There’s something so comforting about a man like Slash protecting me.”
Brooklyn pulled into the parking lot of Three Kings Tattoo Parlor.
I reached for the car door. “I’ll be a few minutes.”
“No rush,” she assured me.
I got out of the car and walked into the tattoo parlor. The reception area was stuffed with leather couches and smelled like sandalwood. I could hear the buzz of a tattoo gun working in back, but otherwise the place was quiet.
Dylan and Waverly were sitting on one of the couches. Jessica perched in a chair and was flipping through an art magazine.
I put my hands on my hips. “Seriously?”
“It’s not what you think,” Waverly said immediately “I swear.”
