Page 22 of A Little Harmless Pleasure

Anna took hold of her hands. “Cynthia. What is it?”

“I own it all.”

Both of them studied her. Then Anna said, under her breath, “She’s had some kind of shock.”

“No.” Cynthia pulled her hands free, her body finally coming back to life. “No. I’m fine. It seems there’s a reason my father mentioned the property in Hawaii.”

Walking away from them to the tray of cookies, she began to move them to the cooling rack. She needed something to keep herself busy.

“Last week I turned thirty.”

There was a beat of silence. “Yes. We know, Cynthia,” Max said in a voice that someone might use with a lunatic he was afraid of. “We threw you a party.”

She nodded, trying to gain some control over the emotions tumbling through her. Shock registered first; that was to be expected. What came next was sadness. Her parents had not only ignored her birthday, but they were trying to figure out a way to steal from her. It hurt her heart. These people were related to her, but they didn’t see her as anything other than a payday. The one thing that surprised her was the anger.

It began in her chest, white-hot and boiling. Until breaking off her engagement with Max, she’d done everything they expected. The right parties, the right boyfriends, the right friends.Can’t wear red lipstick, Cynthia; you’ll look like a tramp. You’re eating too much, Cynthia. You’ll gain weight.

And now they were trying to steal from her.

“Cynthia?” Anna approached her and pulled her into her arms when she saw the tears. “What is it?”

“I own everything my grandmother had in Hawaii. I’m apparently well off, besides the trust fund.”

She drew back, and Anna studied her. “Why are you so sad?”

“I’m not sad. I’m pissed off. He was trying to sell it off. Stealing from his own daughter, the bastard.”

“Oh, Cynthia.” Pity filled Anna’s voice, but for once Cynthia didn’t give a damn. She allowed Anna to tug her back into an embrace. And she sobbed. Loud, horrible sobs that should have embarrassed her, but she didn’t care. She was through with all the pretense, with all the lies and mistakes.

From now on, she would do what she damn well pleased.

Cynthia stared at the darkened windows of the tattoo parlor and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. The storefront didn’t appear particularly inviting, even if it was in a nice strip mall next to a used-clothing store.

Anna leaned close and whispered in Cynthia’s ear, “It won’t bite you.”

Cynthia sighed. “I know.”

Straightening away, Anna looked at the shop, then at Cynthia. “You were the one who brought up the idea of a tattoo. I can give you another present, like a round-trip ticket to Hawaii,” she said, humor lacing her voice.

Cynthia smiled. “I know.”

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

But she wanted to. Anna had suggested a spa day just for the two of them. Cynthia had had other ideas. A tiny little spurt of rebellion that was now rapidly shrinking because she was scared of the tattoo parlor. That one thought had her straightening her shoulders.

She narrowed her eyes as she studied a young man who exited the shop. His arms were covered with an explosion of vivid colors.

“No, I don’t have to, but I want to do it.”

“Well, it’s now or never, woman.” Anna clamped her hand around Cynthia’s upper arm and tugged her down the sidewalk to the front door.

When Anna pulled the door open, a bell tinkled overhead. The sound was at odds in the shop, which was not small and dingy as she had expected. The walls were covered with pictures of tattoos, the track lighting overhead bright and almost blinding. When she glanced around the waiting area, she noticed a young couple with more interest in each other than anyone else, sitting in the corner, apparently waiting their turn.

Anna only gave Cynthia a minute to take in her surroundings before she dragged her to the counter.

“Hey, John. How’s business been?”

Someone stepped out of what Cynthia assumed was an office. A man about her age was studying both her and Anna with interest. Average height, a bit stocky, he wore one of those tops that Anna called a wife-beater shirt. He leaned against the counter. His arms decorated much like the others she’d seen earlier. She watched, fascinated by the flexing of the muscle beneath the thin fabric and the way it made the dragon painted there move.

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