Page 25 of Not My Fault

“Why are you making that face?” She laughs.

“Isn’t eating that the same as eating toothpaste?”

“Uh no, what does your toothpaste taste like?”

“You know what I mean! I hate any kind of mint stuff.” I wrinkle my nose.

“More for me.” She smiles and hops over to the front counter. She pays for the ice cream against my wishes, and we grab spoons on the way out.

“Which way is your place?” I ask.

“Umm…” She looks around to see where we are. “That way.” She points.

I nod, and we pop the lids to our ice cream, tossing them in a nearby garbage can. Emily takes a large scoop of hers and groans when she puts it in her mouth. I’ve noticed that she’s someone who really enjoys food. She doesn’t just eat because she has to, she enjoys every flavor. The sounds she makes when she eats are borderline sexual and do something to me. It awakens something in me that I try to ignore.

She licks the spoon clean each time she puts it in her mouth, and I’m like a horny teenager, unable to look away. What the hellwas wrong with me? Her pretty pink lips open and her tongue lavishes the spoon. Am I suddenly jealous of a plastic spoon? Yes. I guess I am. It’s because I haven’t gotten laid in a while, and I haven’t even had anymetime lately. Everything has been so crazy busy that I’m a little pent up. Clearly, I’ll be going home later and doing something about that.

“So, tell me about your day. That’s what partners do, right?” Emily says, breaking the silence.

Clearing my throat, I think hard about what she asked me and try to focus my attention on anything but her tongue.

“I went to work, nothing crazy.” I shrug as I scoop off a small bit of chocolate ice cream onto my spoon.

“I know, but were there, like, any crazy clients or weird tattoos or anything interesting?”

“Not really. I had a bunch of appointments of people looking to get your lyrics tattooed, by the way. People thought it was cool to get it done by your partner.”

“That’s so cool; I’m glad this is helping your business. You and River are so talented.” Emily smiles.

“Oh! And I had to tattoo this old lady’s butt yesterday,” I say.

“TELL ME EVERYTHING.” Emily laughs.

“Apparently, she bet one of her grandkids that if she lived to be 100, she’d get her butt tattooed. She never thought she’d make it, but she turned 100 yesterday, and her twelve grandkids brought her in. They were cracking up the whole time. I had to get her doctors to sign release forms to make sure it was okay first. She’s the oldest person I’ve ever tattooed,” I explain.

“What did she even get?!”

“It said ‘bite me’ on the side of one of her cheeks.” I laughed.

“Oh my God. That’s so freaking funny. I hope I’m fun like that someday.” Emily smiles.

“Yeah? You wanna get your butt tattooed at 100?”

“Maybe! Or just the fact that I might live to 100 is wild. I hope I’m still having fun then and not just sitting in some nursing home, yelling at the TV.” Emily sighs.

“If there even is TV.”

“There has to be something for me to yell at.” She laughs.

“I realize I never asked, how many tattoos do you have?”

“Just two. River did my first and you did my second. I definitely want more though. I have a Pinterest board full of ideas,” she says excitedly.

“That doesn’t surprise me; tattoos are often addictive.”

“I think of them as being cheaper than therapy.” Emily laughs.

“They make you feel better than therapy? That’s how I feel about them too,” I admit.

---