Page 18 of Electric Touch

“I got it today. My first.”

Squinting, I make out a bird holding a flower in its beak. It is exquisite work. I’ve never seen such fine detail in feathers before. It will look a million times better once it is healed. Now it makes sense that her back hurts. Someone knocking into a fresh tattoo is no joke.

“It’s cool,” I say, and am rewarded with a huge smile. Shit, this girl is beautiful. “What made you get a bird?”

“It’s a mockingbird,” she says. “My little sister’s favourite book is ‘To Kill a Mockingbird.’ It also means freedom, rebirth and hope. Not that I believe in symbolism, but I like the idea of that. Tulips are my favourite flower. Apollo designed it,” she adds pointedly. Like she is trying to show her huge, tattooed friend isn’t all bad.

She keeps talking before I can respond.

“At one point, tulips were really expensive and coveted. There was a whole era called ‘Tulip Mania’ during the seventeenth century. They considered it the first recorded asset bubble in history. The term is used now, metaphorically, when asset prices deviate from intrinsic values, in large economic bubbles.”

She stops talking and looks at me, her face flushing again.

“Not gonna lie, I didn’t know about Tulip Mania, or asset bubbles,” I cock my head. “I figured tulips came from the Netherlands.”

“Well, Asia originally,” she trails off. “Sorry, I can go off on a tangent about things that interest me. And recite a lot of useless facts, too.”

I grin at her. No one has ever said anything like this to me before. “Every day is a school day. And now I know tulips aren’t originally from Holland, but they grow them there a lot, right? In the twenty-first century?”

“They are the major producer of the world’s tulips, yes.”

“Good. I’m a tulip savant now.”

Her lips twist, as if she can’t figure out if I’m making fun of her. I don’t want her to think that.

“Dragonflies have six legs but can’t walk,” I say, pulling that fact out of my ass. Maybe I read it on a Christmas cracker joke?

Her eyes open wide. “I didn’t know that. I knew they had six legs, but haven’t thought about whether they walk. Or was that the start of a joke and I ruined it?”

“No, it wasn’t a joke,” I smile. “See, we all know useless facts. Here’s another, the average person spends more time on the toilet than exercising.”

“Well, there are about eighty percent of adult Americans not getting the recommended daily exercise quota. So that one is logical.”

She makes me laugh again. I’m sure anything I say, she will provide evidence for, or refute. “Okay, what about this one? There is no way you know this one. They buried the guy who created Pringles in a Pringles can.”

“Get out.” Her brows rise comically. “You’re making that up.”

“Google it,” I say. “It’s a fact.

“I didn’t know that.”

“Well, now you do.”

“Presumably he was cremated first.”

“I hope so.” I laugh again and this time she joins in.

It makes me happy putting her at ease. She’s come over here to help. I appreciate it. I get the feeling she sees right through me.

“On the original topic, the tattoo is insanely good. You’ll have to give me the name of the artist. I’ve yet to find one in New York.” I hold up my arm, showing her my sleeve.

“Do you have any room left?”

“Plenty, in different parts of my body,” I say. It comes out a little husky. Fuck, am I flirting?

“Oh, of course.” She takes a card out of her purse and passes it to me. “You should say Apollo recommended him,” she says with a straight face. My clear dislike of her friend hasn’t gone over her head. Then she winks. Okay fuck, this woman is way too perceptive.

“He sounded like he was being a dick,” I explain.

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