Page 51 of PS: I Hate You
Still, Dom takes the lead. “Does the name Josh Sanderson mean anything to you?”
The whir of the tattoo gun cuts off, and silence overtakes the shop. The man who greeted us loses his smile and runs wide eyes over us, taking Dom and me in as if we’re both fascinating and concerning.
I shift on my feet, wondering exactly what favor my brother did for this man.
“Are you Maddie and Dom?” he asks after a prolonged pause.
I nod, then feel the heat of a hand on my lower back.
“We are,” Dom says.
I’m about to elbow him and step away when the tattoo guy’s next words distract me.
“So, Josh is gone, then.”
Chapter
Fourteen
Gone.
The word reverberates through me, a sharp clattering that threatens to shred my insides.
He’s not gone yet. There’s a piece of him in my bag. And more notes in Dom’s safe.
Josh is still here.
Just not…like he was.
“He passed away in January.” When Dom speaks, there’s no hint of the grief and rage I’m fighting against. He’s his normal steady-voiced self. “You knew him?”
The man straightens off his stool and the woman comes up beside him, leaning her body into his as he wraps an arm around her shoulders. The two of them join together as they speak to us.
“We met him in Oregon. I’m Reggie, and this is Carmen. We were at Multnomah Falls, I proposed, and Josh happened to be there. He took that.” Reggie gestures toward the wall, where a framed photo of a kissing couple surrounded by glittering mist hangs. “It was perfect. He offered to send it to us, no charge. I told him to come through town sometime, and I’d tattoo him. On the house. We kept in touch but…” When Reggie trails off, eyes going cloudy, all of us know what he’s having trouble voicing.
Josh got too sick to come here and claim his tattoo.
Reggie shares a wobbling smile between us. “He called last year. Told us the situation. Asked if he could pass off his freebie. To his sister and his best friend.”
“We said yes. Of course we said yes.” Carmen’s eyes shimmer now, the hint of tears gathering at the base of her lashes.
She can cry for my brother. This woman who only knew a little of him.
Why can’t I?
“Thank you,” Dom says. “Did Josh also say what type of tattoo we’d be getting?”
Carmen chuckles and Reggie grins wider.
“No.” A dimple appears in the man’s cheek as he beams at us. “Josh said you’d never go through with it if he got that high-handed. Whatever you get is up to you.”
Carmen slips out from under her partner’s arm and goes back to her customer. Meanwhile Reggie pulls out some binders and settles them on the counter.
“Take a look. Take your time. I’m happy to draw up a custom piece if you have any ideas. Whatever you want.”
What if I don’t want a tattoo?I almost mutter petulantly. But I keep the ungrateful words to myself.
Because they’re a lie.