Page 8 of Maid in America

“The whole nine.” She kicked off her shoes and drew her feet up to the cushion beside her. Her mismatched socks made Barrett chuckle.

He reached out to tap the blue ankle sock on one foot and the pink calf-height one on the other. “Cute.”

She looked at them and smiled, allowing her eyes to affix on his. “I guess this is the part where I am supposed to ask about what you do.”

“You don’t have to.” Barrett eyed her feet, desperately wanting to touch them, to rub them, to have them in his lap. “I just started a new job this week, so there isn’t much to tell.”

“Yeah?” She snuggled into the couch a little more.

“The hours are flexible, which I like. I still want to have fun and live a little, you know? I don’t wanna look back and have any regrets. I wanna look like shit by the time I’m in my casket.”

“Preach.” She picked at a small tear in his sofa absentmindedly with her nail. “Speaking of regrets… you got any tats?”

He laughed aloud. “Now, why would you ask something like that?”

“You strike me as the kinda guy with a hidden thigh sleeve or the quintessential ‘Mom’ tattoo in a little heart somewhere.”

His smile faded at the word ‘Mom.’ After a moment, it slowly returned. “I actually do have a tattoo. It’s small and stupid.”

“Iknewit. I have a sixth sense about these things.”

“It’s on my butt cheek.”

Covering her mouth, Chastity stifled a loud laugh.

“Back in the day, I lost a bet to my buddy, Alan. True to my word, I got it.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a bumble bee wearing a ghost costume.”

She twisted her body to look at him. “Explain.”

Barrett stood, unbuttoned his jeans, and pulled them and his underwear down three inches, revealing a two-inch tattoo that looked exactly like he’d described.

“I don’t get it.”

“Boo-bee.It’s a boo-bee. Like,” he turned and motioned as if he had huge breasts. He couldn’t help but smile at Chastity’slaughter. He pulled his pants up, re-zipped them, and returned his butt to the couch, inches closer this time.

“What about you? You got any ink?”

“I do.”

He waited a moment. “Well…?”

“I have one tattoo, and if you play your cards right, I’ll show it to you.”

He grinned and made a puckered face like Robert Deniro before taking another sip from his glass. “I’d rather see it anyway.”

She held her palm out, silently requesting the glass in his hand.

“I thought you didn’t want any.” Confused, he handed it over.

“Needed to be sure it wasn’t roofied or something. Never can be too careful.” She took a big gulp of it.

Barrett scooted closer and reached over, caressing a long curl of rainbow-dyed hair with his outstretched finger. “I like this. It’s pretty. Love all the colors.”

“Yeah?”

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