Good Girl Gone

Star has millions of dollars, I’m sure. And I’m trying to figure out if I can afford a three hundred dollar a month car payment. I snort to myself as I go into the tattoo shop. Catcalls ring out as I go in the door, and I hear clapping and shouts. I look up to find all five of the Reed brothers there, giving me a standing ovation.

“I need to go away more often,” I tell them.

Pete comes over and gives me a high-five, but I have no idea what that’s for. “What’s up?” I ask.

Paul shoves Pete’s shoulder. “Leave him alone, Pete,” he says. He glares at him.

Pete rubs his hands together like he’s warming them in front of a fire and he’s grinning like crazy. “So, we heard you got lucky,” he says.

Heat creeps up my cheeks.

“How was it?” he asks. “You’re not sore, are you?”

“Shut up,” I murmur.

But he’s still grinning. Sam steps up beside him, and I swear the twins look so much alike that you can sometimes only tell them apart by their ink, unless you get to know them.

“So your girlfriend called my wife to complain about the size of your dick,” he says. He chuckles and I push past him.

“Shut up, Sam,” I tell him. “I am not talking to you about the size of my dick.”

“Oh, you don’t need to,” he sings out. “Star already told them all about it.”

Paul shoves him. “Knock it off,” he growls. “How was your weekend?” he asks me, keeping a straight face unlike the rest of them.

“It was good,” I tell him.

“Everything okay back home?” Matt asks.

“It’s better than it was,” I tell him.

“Good.” Matt smiles and it’s full of kindness and warmth. Then he grins. “I won’t ask about the other stuff, since Star already told everybody.”

A grin tugs at the corners of my lips and I can’t bite it back. “Yes, I got laid!” I yell loudly. “Did everyone hear that?” I cup my hands around my mouth and yell, “I got laid!”

“Leave him alone, guys,” Paul barks.

Sam mock’s Paul’s stern face. “Did you use a condom?” he asks. “You know you got to wrap that shit up.” Paul grabs him in a headlock and gives him a noogie.

Pete pulls up a chair and straddles it backward, hooking his arms over the back. “So, was it difficult?” he asks. He nods toward my chair.

“It was fine.” I glare at him and he nods. “All my parts work.”

“Oh, I know,” Sam says. “I got to hear about it in detail.” He fakes a shiver.

“I’m happy for you,” Matt says. He motions for me to follow him into the back. I go, watching Sam and Pete as they put their heads together and make hand motions detailing wheelchair sex. Pete crawls on top of Sam and bounces for a second and then they both nod and give me a thumbs-up.

“Fuck you,” I call back. But inside, I’m laughing right along with them.

Matt pulls the privacy curtain. “Your appointment tonight might be a little bit tricky,” he says.

“Why?” I’m confused. I thought it was just a regular tat.

“She doesn’t want anyone to know she’s here, and she requested you specifically.”

“Who is it?”

He walks to the back of the shop and opens the back door. Star’s sister Wren walks into the room, glancing from side to side before she stops in front of me.

“Hey,” I say.

Matt walks out of the area and pulls the curtain closed tight around us. I see that he has set up my machines and equipment back here.

“Hi.” Wren waves at me shyly. “Is it okay that I did this?” she asks, and then she bites her lower lip and waits for my answer.

I scratch my nose, trying to buy time to formulate an answer. “Does Star know you’re here?”

She shakes her head. “No.” She scrunches up her face. “Is she okay? She called Peck but she didn’t call me.” Her eyes avoid mine and I can tell she’s worried.

“She’s fine. I dropped her off at my apartment.”

A breath escapes her. “She’s not talking to me because of Tag.”

I nod. “I know.”

“He’s not a bad guy.”

“I know.”

“He’s just a little lost.”

“I know.”

“And now he’s gone.” Her eyes finally meet mine. “I gave him some money last night and he was relieved and he left.”

“He did?”

“Yeah,” she whispers.

“Is he in trouble?”

“Probably.”

“Oh. Is he coming back?”

She shrugs. “I have no idea.”

“Why are you here, Wren?”

“How mad is she at me?” she blurts out.

“She’s not mad. She’s confused.” Well, maybe a little mad.

“I should have listened. She knew he just wanted money.” She wipes a finger under her nose and I pass her a tissue. She takes it and blows her nose. “She always was smarter than me.” His eyes meet mine. “She went through so much more than I did.”

“You should talk about this with her,” I tell her.

“She won’t answer her phone when I call.”

“She’s hurt.”

She heaves out a breath. “I know. He’s gone now, though, so she can come back home.”