Page 41 of Melt With You

‘You mean like a party?’

‘No. There’ll be a party, of course. Van’s band is playing. I thought we’d all go to that together. Drink Long Islands until we fall down. But I mean, something big but private.’

Except, how private could it be if she had Dori along?

‘Like what?’

‘Well, for twenty-five, I bought a Harley. Took me five years to save up for that thing, and I crashed the Sportster in a week.’ She shot Dori a rueful expression as she showed off the long, jagged scar on her forearm, a scar Dori had seen before, but had never dared to ask about.

‘For thirty, I went to Europe, by myself. Back-packing. Amazing. I was too old to stay in the hostels, I guess. All the people I met were kids. But it was worth it. For thirty-five, I …’ She gave Dori a sidelong glance under her lashes. ‘I got totally trashed on coke because I couldn’t believe I was actually this fucking old.’

Dori just shrugged. She wasn’t going to pass judgment on Bette.

‘We were in San Francisco, riding those glass elevators up and down. You know, at that fancy hotel in the city? The one with the spinning restaurant up on the top?’

Dori nodded. She’d been to the same place for her sixteenth birthday.

‘Well, the restaurant wasn’t spinning fast enough for us. You know? You do a full rotation in an hour, but that hour seemed so fucking long. So Gael and I got it into our heads to have our own spin. We got nailed on security cameras, but the hotel dick was an okay sort of guy. He let us walk without calling in the cops.’

‘So what’s for today?’ Dori asked, hoping this wasn’t going to be some sort of drug thing. Or sex thing.

‘Tattoo.’

Dori’s eyes widened.

‘Really?’

Bette nodded, a huge grin on her face. She seemed pleased by Dori’s response.

‘Of what?’

Bette reached into her purse and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Slowly, she opened the crisp square, revealing the design to Dori’s total delight.

‘Betty Boop,’ the tattoo artist announced happily. ‘Awesome. Who doesn’t love Betty Boop?’

Bette looked a bit pale, but only Dori would have noticed. She wasn’t shaking or biting her nails or anything. If Dori hadn’t gotten to know her so well over the past few weeks, she wouldn’t have realized Bette was nervous at all. She watched as her boss lowered the left side of her stretchy black top, revealing her smooth, unmarked skin. Dori sat nearby, holding Bette’s right hand for support. Although, clearly Bette had made her mind up about this, and she didn’t seem to be the type of person who would quake at a little bit of pain.

Watching Bette made Dori wonder whether she could give in to her desires too? She wasn’t dreaming. She knew that now. But would a tattoo prove it for real. Would the pain, the blood, show her that this was her actual life? Not a dream. Not a hallucination. That she wasn’t in a coma. Wasn’t dead. She scanned the designs on the wall, trying to figure out what she would choose.

Bette seemed to guess instantly what she was thinking.

‘Do you have any?’

Dori shook her head.

‘Ever been tempted?’

Had she? Back in beauty school, she’d known so many cosmetology students who had been inked. The fad had begun in the 80s, with the hair bands and the rock ’n’ roll groupies. She’d admired bits and pieces of skin art without ever being sure she’d want one for herself.

Her fingertips trailed from one design to another. She could feel Bette watching her, as she finally stood in front of one design, a decision made.

Chapter Eighteen

‘You’ve come this far,’ Nina said, gazing at Dori’s new tattoo in wonder.

‘Yeah,’ Bette agreed. ‘You ought to go the whole way.’

Dori slid her skirt back into place and shook her head, but her eyes were locked on the bottle in Bette’s hand.

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