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One
Ten years ago
Beth
“Ithought when you said we were going to spend the day together, it meant food and lots of wine, not needles,” I groan, resisting as my sister, Kim, tugs at my wrist, dragging me towards the tattoo shop. “I’m not even getting the tattoo. Why do I have to go with you?”
“Because you’re my sister, and we haven’t spent time together in forever.” She pinches my cheeks like I’m a child. “And you take amazing photographs. I’m going to look hot with this tattoo. I need pictures for when I’m old and saggy, so my grandkids know what a badass their grandma was.”
“You don’t even want kids.”
“And?”
I try to dig my heels farther into the concrete, but it’s no use. She’s too strong.
Damn yoga.
“We haven’t spent time together because we’re both busy with work, and you’re too busy banging Derek.”
“Eric,” she corrects, rolling her eyes. “And we broke up.”
Surprised, I come to a halt. “You did? When? We live together, and you never said a thing.”
Running a hand through her dark blonde bob, Kim sighs. “It was only three days ago. It’s fine. I don’t want to talk about it. I just really want to get this amazing tattoo.” She pouts and rests her hands on my shoulders. “Please, Bethany Rose,” she pleads, fluttering her lashes.
“Using my full name, isn’t going to gain you any brownie points. You remind me of Mom.”
Kim visibly pales. “Take it back. That’s the most horrible thing you’ve ever said to me.”
My mother is the only one to ever use my full name. It sounds proper around her group of fake friends at the country club.
What she doesn’t tell her friends in the country club is that she left both Kim and me with our respective fathers when we were just toddlers. Her idea of being a mother is checking in once every six months. Thank God our dad’s got along and saw the benefit of sisters having a relationship.
“Sorry. That was a low blow.” Being compared to our mother is about the worst insult anyone can ever conjure.
“It’s Logan-fucking-King. Do you know how long I’ve waited to get an appointment with him?”
“Two years,” we say in unison because she’s talked about it enough for me to know that this is a big deal.
“Everyone who is anyone has gotten inked by him. A-list celebs, rock stars, movie stars, even politicians.”
“Politicians?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Apparently half the Senate has a tramp stamp. The point is this is a cancellation. Eric had to pull some big strings just to get me this appointment, and I might want to chop off his balls right now and feed them to him for breakfast, but I won’t let my personal grudge get in the way of something I’ve wanted for so long. And… and…” she stutters, this situation getting the better of her vocabulary. “You’re up and leaving me on Sunday for God knows how long.”
“Eight months,” I remind her.
“Exactly, I want to spend time with you, but I also really want this tattoo. Please don’t make me choose.” She presses her hands together in prayer.
“Fine. You could get a gig on Broadway with monologues like that.”
Giddy, she kisses my cheek. “I know. Now come on.”
I really hate needles. The thought of sitting there watching as it drags over her skin, makes me shudder, but I know she’s wanted this forever, and if the roles were reversed, she would do it for me.
I huff, rolling my shoulders as I crane my neck back and eye the black painted shop with “King Tattoo Studio” in gold block writing.
Stepping inside, I’m immediately captivated by the warmly decorated interior. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. High ceilings with wooden beams, a black-painted wall adorned with pictures of people getting tattoos—some recognizable faces from magazines and movies. Kim was right about this guy. He’s in every picture, but his face is always obscured by his concentration on the task at hand. The shop exudes a sense of luxury with its lush leathers and dark wood furnishings. A high desk stands to the right, against a red brick wall.
