Page 62 of For the Record
“If it helps, you can pick out what I get.”
I raised a brow at him. “Anything?”
“Anything.”
“What about my name on your butt? In a very feminine font and lots of hearts.”
He winced. “If that’s what you want.”
I would never truly ask for it, but Adam was a man of his word. That…left some interesting possibilities on the table. I glanced inside the large windows of the tattoo shop. It wasn’t like any of the places I’d seen before, but then again, that was mostly on TV. I didn’t see any burly men in leather jackets with mean scowls and clenched fists. No sign of the stereotypical framed skull paintings or tall, scary people with large holes in their ears and tattooed eyebrows that said try me.
No, this looked more like a casual coffee shop than somewhere to get a Care Bear permanently inked on your tush. Not that that’s what I wanted. Though it was kind of tempting. Clean, crisp white walls with a multitude of plants scattered around the room. A brown leather couch on one wall, and a few chairs on the opposite side. Mirrors lined the wall behind the chairs. One girl had her back facing it, her neck craned to view a freshly inked tattoo.
If I was going to get a tattoo, this would probably be the place.
Adam’s tattoos were always tastefully done. An array of flowers for his mom, his nephews’ names in handwritten script, the tribal one, the plane, on and on. I had always been a my body is a temple kind of gal when it came to the thought of getting any ink. I assumed I would get something and regret it, but then I saw all of Adam’s and my interest was suddenly piqued, and all previous assumptions dissipated.
“Do you regret getting any?”
“No. They are all what I needed most at the time I got them.”
I looked up at Adam. He was smirking down at me. “Come on, you can watch me first if you want. Or we can do you first, to get it over with.”
I still hesitated, and he sucked in a breath, dipped down to whisper to me. “I’ll hold your hand the whole time.”
That was enough motivation for me.
I reached a hand down to his wrist and wrapped my fingers around it, squeezing tight around his warmth. He nodded down at me and led me inside.
“Adam!” a low voice called across the room. A short older man with dark skin hobbled over to the front. “You did not call me—” The man’s eyes looked from Adam to me, halting his movements.
I shifted, pulling my hand from Adam’s wrist. The man’s lips pulled in a slow smile, and he waved a shaky pointer finger at me. “Ah, you are Rachel.”
“I am.” I smiled, and Adam stiffened behind me.
The man had a small name tag on that read Clyde. He reached for my hands, his cold, wrinkled fingers wrapping around mine and giving them a firm shake. “Oh, you are prettier than I even imagined. Our Adam did not do you justice.”
He dropped my hands and turned to Adam behind me. “What are we here for today? Want to add to your back?”
“Actually I was thinking about filling the last spot on my forearm.” He twisted his arm to show one free space about three inches below the bend of his elbow. “Also, she’s getting her first.”
Clyde lit up like a child who’d been told he could see Santa at the mall. “Your first? Do we know what we’re getting?”
Annoying as it was, Adam was right. I’d known what I wanted for a tattoo for years. I hadn’t ever worked up the courage. I pulled up a Pinterest board named One Day and scrolled until the familiar image came up.
I twisted the phone to Clyde, and he pulled his glasses down and squinted at it. “How lovely. It fits you well.” He directed a hand to an empty chair and a younger, gladiator-like man standing behind it on his phone. “Brendan, can help yo—”
“No,” Adam interrupted, his baritone alone causing my skin to raise. “Felicity. She can see Felicity.”
He gestured to the woman that was wrapping some kind of film around a girl’s arm at her chair. Clyde smiled at him. “Sure, son.”
After thirty minutes of signing waivers and getting a pep talk from Adam—which was more of a physical reassurance than a conversation—I felt ready. Ready enough, I guess.
Felicity laid me face down, and adjusted my shirt so she could see my back more clearly. She wiped me down and showed me a stencil of what I wanted.
It was exactly what I imagined, but custom tailored to me. A set of my favorite headphones, the ones that wrap around your head and rest on your ears like a couple of clouds, with a pink bow tied to each earpiece. Two of my favorite things, mixed into one tiny art piece. My love for music wrapped up in a perfect package with the cutest bow on top. It was everything.
I turned to get Adam’s approval, not that I truly needed it.