He chuckles at me. “Put the lipstick on and kiss the paper.”
“Why…”
“Amuse me,” he says.
I oblige with narrowed eyes, using the long mirror on the back of the door. “Where did you get this lipstick?”
“Part of Reed’s Halloween costume,” he says with a wink.
“Who’s he going to be?”
“Joker,” he replies, and my eyes widen.
“Holy shit. He’s going to make the best Joker. Do we get to dye his hair on Saturday?”
Maddox grins. “There’s a Halloween shop by the tattoo place. Our manager called to see if they had wigs and makeup and shit, so we’re grabbing everything we need today.”
“Who are you going to be?”
There’s a sinful glare in his eyes. “Bane,” he replies. “As long as I can find that vest and the long coat.”
“What about Bonnie and Zeb? Will they be Batman villains, too?”
“Oh yeah. Poison Ivy and Scarecrow.”
“Bonnie is going to be Poison Ivy?” I ask.
“She’s going to break a few hearts in that one,” Reed says as he sticks his head through the door. He gives Maddox an upward nod. “You ready?”
“Yeah.” Maddox gently folds up the piece of paper and slides it into his wallet. “Andi is meeting us later.”
“No tat today, sis?” Reed asks.
“There will be a tattoo,” I correct him. “But I have a call this morning, so I’ll drive out later. I hear I get to torture you with hair dye on Saturday.”
Reed grins in the most characteristically Joker-ish smile I’ve ever seen on anyone. It creases his dimples and bares all his teeth, and I chuckle.
“There will be fainting,” I say.
“One can hope.” Reed taps the door frame twice and pushes off, his head nearly raking the top of the door. “Let’s go, Mads. Bonnie is already texting.”
Maddox gives me one more look, and I don’t know what to do with myself other than stare as he leaves the room and follows Reed to the front, where I know James is waiting for them.
My phone dings with a text from Cynda, and I groan.
Can we chat now?
The sting of the tattoo needle on my back is exultant bliss.
It’s just me and Bonnie in the studio right now. Maddox, Reed and Zeb are over at the Halloween shop.
“Did you find a wig for Ivy, or are we dying your hair also?” I ask Bonnie from the backward chair I’m sitting on. She’s lying on her stomach for her tattoo a few feet away from me.
None of us are very particular regarding our bodies, and we were happy to choose from the badass, intricate sketches the artists put together specifically for us.
“I thought it would be just as fun to dye it,” she says. “I’ve never been a redhead before.”
I smile. “It’s going to be so hot.”
