Page 9 of Final Serenade

“Can I leave my panties on?” I went along with the joke.

A burst of laughter cut through the music. “You’re dangerous, Cassy.”

“So are you.”

I wasn’t sure where our banter was going anymore. Something told me we were dancing a careless dance, but I enjoyed it. Jax had a peculiar sense of humor that I credited to his work on whatever TV show he’d been on. He also had a nice touch and I felt relaxed and safe under the needle once we began.

I lay on the chair, listening to the playlist while Jax hummed along with the music. He had a decent voice. Not arena material, but he could carry a tune ten times better than I could.

I was curious. “Do you play any instruments?”

“I play guitar a little. Do you?”

“No. I wish I did, though.”

“How come you never tried?”

I didn’t know how to explain that my alcoholic father had spent all our money on booze. We’d lived from paycheck to paycheck. I’d worn one pair of shoes through the entire sixth grade, which had pushed me to be overly creative with homemade footwear accessories because I didn’t want other kids to notice. An instrument would have been a luxury. Heck, my iPod was a luxury back then.

“Never got around to it, I guess,” I muttered.

“You okay?” Jax switched off the machine to check on me. “We can take a break if you want.”

“I’m fine. Not my first rodeo.” I turned my head to face him and smiled. His eyes met mine and he did the same.

“I can put on something else. What do you want to listen to?”

“Hall Affinity.” It was a reflex. I was obsessed with finding something new in the lyrics, something I’d failed to hear before. I wanted to learn everything there was to know about Frankie Blade so I could pick his brain apart.

“You got it.” Jax set the machine aside and wiped down my shoulder blade. “Which album is your favorite?” My new tattoo artist was considerate and my disdain over Hank’s absence had subsided.

“Breathe Crimson. Yours?”

“I likeBreathe Crimsontoo.” He took off his gloves and pulled up a Hall Affinity playlist on his phone. “You a fan?”

“I am. How about you?”

“I like them. I’m actually looking forward to hearing their new music. I hope they didn’t lose their spark. My baby sister used to spin them for days back in high school.” A corner of his mouth curved as he shook his head slightly. “You ever see them live?”

“A few times. My girlfriend won a pair of floor tickets from iHeartRadio right before Frankie’s accident. We were in the front. I had so many bruises after. You have no idea.”

“You really know how to throw it down, Cassy.” His gaze locked on mine for a brief moment and we exchanged invisible smiles. He was light, like a feather, and I enjoyed talking to him. “Was that soon after they got inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame? 2012?”

“You have a great memory for someone who justlikesthe band.”

Jax tapped the side of his head with his index finger. “There’s a lot of information stored here that’s absolutely useless unless you meet a fan of the band.”

“Show off.”

“Wanted to impress the lady.”

I caught a flash of interest in his eyes. My stomach fluttered involuntarily. It was the weirdest thing ever because I’d never flirted with my tattoo artist before, but then again, Hank was pushing fifty and had a girlfriend. Flirting in general wasn’t my strong suit. I just had a big mouth and said stuff that men apparently found attractive. Half of those men also wanted to go out with me in exchange for concert tickets and backstage passes.

“Are you ready to keep going?” Jax asked, retrieving a fresh pair of gloves from the box next to his tools.

“Sure.” I shifted in the chair and made myself comfortable.

We chatted some more, mainly about music. By the time he finished, it was well past midnight.

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