“It’s fine. So, Sam and Scotty are doing well? Are they married?”
“Nah, Sam always says the thought of being someone’s wife makes her wanna stick her head in an oven,” Tabby said, glad she hadn’t freaked Jo out. “But they’re super committed. They got matching tats this year. His and hers lockets.”
“Very sweet. So, that’s both your sisters taken care of?”
“Yup,” Tabby said heavily. “And then there’s me. Fuck knows when I’m ever going to meet someone.”
Who isn’t a guy who says ‘4X trading’ ten times a day…
“I’d like to meet someone,” Jo said. “Where do single men over forty-five drink these days?”
“In the shower.”
Jo laughed her bright, childlike laugh again. “I think you’ll meet someone soon, Tabitha.”
“We’ll see. Bunch of absolute fours around here.”
Tabby went silent as she began the detailing around the card. The lines needed to be delicate but deep enough to last. Like anything, she guessed. Yet, as she did her work, she couldn’t stop her mind from returning to Toby. Where was he? What was he thinking? And most of all—when would she be done? It had been two years since they’d slept together, and this obsession wasn’t getting any easier and it had only gained ground since she’d run into him sucking double face in the Village Belle Hotel.
Twenty minutes later, Jo’s tattoo was done. Tabby wiped off her stencil and took photos for social media and the Silver Daughters website. Jo seemed happy, studying her forearm with the fascination that Tabby guessed was kind of like having a new baby. This thing that now existed that hadn’t been a part of you before. She smeared the tattoo with healing butter, then wrapped Jo’s arm in Second Skin like she had done for clients a million times before. Jo had a lot of ink already, so she gave the speedrun version of the ‘don’t poke it, don’t scrub it, don’t fuck with it at all’ speech. Then she and Jo shook hands and went to reception to process the payment.
It was quiet at the front of house. Noah and Ilene—the studio’s new part-timer—were with clients, and Sam was out getting her hair done. Jo covered the two-thousand-dollar payment in cash. It wasn’t unheard of, but it was unusual for an older female client. Tabby wondered if she was a sex worker, and whether that was why she seemed a little withdrawn.
“Thanks for coming to me for this,” she told Jo. “It was awesome to do some tarot stuff.”
“Thank you. It’s beautiful.” Jo’s voice was cheery, but her eyes were sad. “I guess I’ll come back if I need anything else.”
“Sure.” Tabby gave an extra-big smile. “Well, call me if you have any issues…”
Jo looked like she was about to say something, but then she nodded and turned for the door. From behind, she looked younger. Early thirties or even twenties.
I hope you meet someone,Tabby told Jo’s retreating ass.Some nice dude who doesn’t drink in the shower too much.
Just as Jo opened the door, Sam appeared on the other side of the studio windows.
“Shit,” Tabby hissed. She’d promised to take out the bins, but there was no time to run away and pretend she’d already done it.
“Sorry!” she called as Sam and Jo crossed paths. “I’ll go do the bins right now! Please don’t be mad at me! Love me! Be kind!”
But Sam didn’t seem to hear her. As the studio door slammed shut behind her, she removed her scrunchie, running her fingers through the straight black hair she and Nicole shared. Her face was blank as a page.
Since her typically furious sister seemed decommissioned, Tabby figured this was as good a time as any to come clean about the myriad other things she’d fucked up: “I haven’t done the bins, and I haven’t ordered any more Second Skin, and I haven’t wiped down the front desk, and I ate that yogurt you were keeping in the fridge.”
She’d expected at least a scowl at that one, but her oldest sister continued to stare into space like she’d been hit with a novelty mallet.
“Sambo?” Tabby asked. “What the hell’s with you?”
“I…” Sam jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Do you know who that was?”
“Who? Jo? I just tattooed her. She wanted a tarot card. It was pretty sick.”
Sam somehow grew paler, her ink as stark as tiger stripes against her green-grey skin. “Her name’s not Jo.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She’s our mum,” Sam said. “You just tattooed our mum.”
2
