I internally guffawed at the direction my thoughts had gone. Further proof I needed this small act of defiance. “Just wondering if I should also get that lower-back tattoo I’ve always wanted.”
“Definitely,” Alicia agreed. “Maybe get a sleeve or two. I’m adventure deprived and living vicariously through you this summer.”
The gentle buzz of a tattoo artist at work carried through the studio. A song I didn’t recognize played on hidden speakers. A man at the front desk lifted his chin in greeting as I tapped my name into the screen at the welcome kiosk.
We walked the waiting room perimeter after I checked in. Hundreds of airbrushed images covered the walls. All were next-level artistry. I moved slowly, lightly mesmerized, as if touring a modern art museum.
“Fuck it,” Alicia muttered, then headed back to the entry.
“Where are you going?” I asked, tracking her with my gaze.
She stopped at the front counter and spoke to the thirtysomething body builder with tattoo sleeves as divine as anything on the walls. “Can I get my belly button done?”
The man nodded, and I hustled to her side.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
“Surprising Cameron. If you can get a stud in your nose, then I can have a hoop in my belly button.”
A petite woman with inky-black hair met us at the counter and introduced herself as Iris. She led us to a table in back, then walked us verbally through our procedures. We took turns in the hot seat, holding hands through the scary parts, just as we had during each of our labors.
Before I knew it, my nose was numbed, the stud was placed, and we were on our way to the desk for payment.
Alicia passed the worker her credit card. “This one’s on me,” she said.
“No,” I protested. “I can pay for this. It was my idea.” And I’d gotten my first two paychecks from Chez Margot, which was nearly double my actual rate per hour, thanks to two large pastry orders for the Invisible Baker that Lucas had placed. I hadn’t made much progress on the house recently, and I was losing sleep working double time to fill the Invisible Baker orders, but for the first time ever, I was earning decent money, and that felt wildly empowering.
She waved me off, nodding for the attendant to continue with her payment. “This was the first spontaneous thing I’ve done in ages. I love it. I also owe you for the inspiration,” she added, motioning to her middle. “Cameron is going to flip.”
I leaned forward and inspected myself in a small freestanding mirror on the counter. The difference in my appearance was minimal, but it felt astronomically huge. The shimmery rhinestone on my bright-red nostril felt like a declaration long overdue. I was free and worthy of joy, even if others didn’t understand my choices.
“You look incredible,” Alicia said.
The man behind the register slid his eyes my way as he passed her the receipt. His lips parted in a whisper of a smile. “That’s what’s up,” he said.
Alicia tucked the paper into her purse. “See? That’s what’s up,” she echoed.
I left the studio feeling infinitely lighter. Outside, the world seemed brighter.
“Are we—” Alicia paused dramatically, letting her mouth hang open for a long beat. “Are we total badasses?”
“Absolutely,” I said.
“Makes sense,” she agreed. “I think that hunk behind the counter was checking you out.”
I frowned. “He was in his thirties.”
“So?”
“So he’s probably closer to Camilla’s age than mine. Besides, men only look at younger women.”
“Men look at all women,” she argued. “Especially the hot ones.”
I stopped outside the tavern. “Are you still hungry? Want to get a drink with lunch?”
“Big yes to all of that.” Alicia opened the door, then peeked over her shoulder at me. “God, I love this day.”
I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit interior. The faint yeasty scent of beer met us at the threshold. Decades of grease, salt, and cigarette smoke permeated the walls. A thousand happy memories made at similar burger and beer joints back in college curled my lips into a smile.
