Page 75 of The Sounds of Her

I take out my phone and do a quick search while she protests some more, but it’s less aggressive. A few places are open, but I discard two of them after reading reviews. Then I come across one that sounds good, is open twenty-four hours and has two award winning artists.

“It’s fate,” I show her the website.

“It’s dumb.”

“Sometimes dumb is good. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Nothing and she knows it. Tattoos are a big decision to make, but I want to be the one to take her for her first. Might be her only tattoo, but once I get an idea in my head, I’m single-minded.

“I wouldn’t even know what to get,” she says, her voice less authoritative now.

“We can figure that out.”

“Archer…”

“Brooke…” I reach out and take her hand. “Come on, be rebellious with me.”

Her fingers squeeze mine, she’s thinking about it.

It’s fucking insane, but I’m giddy. She bites her lip, and my eyes follow the motion, watching as her plump bottom lip slips through the grip of her teeth. I do not wish it were caught between my teeth, not even a little.

Shit.

“I doubt they can do it tonight and tomorrow I’ll realise this is a stupid idea. It’s midnight.”

“It’s twenty-four hours.”

“Damn,” she mutters.

“I won’t force you into it… Sometimes it’s fun to go a little wild.”

“You’re a bad influence.”

I hold up my phone, confident they’ll fit us in when they realise it’s me. I don’t enjoy throwing around my name, but it comes in handy.

“I’m going to regret this.”

“You can’t go into a tattoo shop believing that. You either want it or you don’t. I’m not gonna be upset if you say no, Brooke.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?” That sounds too much like she is being coerced, and I don’t like that.

“I won’t regret it. But I’m not getting your name.”

“Doubt they’d let you. No tattoo artist likes to put someone’s name on a client’s skin.”

Before she can change her mind, I slide out of the booth, tugging her in my direction instead of letting her get out of her side. I’m sure she doesn’t see it, but people are taking pictures. I don’t care. It all adds to our narrative the way we want it to.

DiMarco gets up as we approach, and I tell him what we’re doing. He doesn’t bat an eye and heads out for the car while I make the call.

Brooke is twisting her hands in the hem of her jacket. She has a weird, determined look on her face.

This is nuts, but I’m fucking thrilled she is going along with it, although she isn’t getting anything on her ass. No fucker is getting to touch what I haven’t been able to.

Chapter Seventeen

I must be out of my ever-loving mind, but here I am, in a tattoo shop, which isn’t at all the way I imagined it. The large room is colourful, with graffiti art on the wall.

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