My Heart For Yours (Sinful Secrets 2)
Page 103
Elvie flips her off.
She goes around to her side of the car while Elvie kisses me. He tastes like cigar and chicken. We had dinner at Miss Darcy’s Grill. I wipe my lipstick off his mouth. He has the good sense not to complain this time.
He even kisses me again on the cheek. “Stay warm, Gwennie.”
“Break a leg. Not both, though. Or I’ll have to send you away on an ass’s ass.”
This is Elvie’s and my private joke. One time I told him I would always love him, even with no arms and legs. It was meant to be funny. Romantic, dark funny—but funny. He said he would love me always, too. But when I got too old and ugly to be photographed with him, he’d send me away on a mule’s ass.
“Such a comedian,” he says now. He runs a hand along my hair. “Be safe, now.”
“For sure. You too. Talk to you soon?”
“I’ll call tomorrow.”
I blow him a kiss and climb up into Jamie’s silver Caddy, bound for my favorite place on earth.
SEVENTEEN
Barrett
November 6, 2015
“Hey, man.” I hold my phone against my ear and lean against the bathroom wall. “You probably won’t remember me, but you did a tat for me about three years ago.”
“Yeah, man. Sounds right. I’ve been here since ’09.”
“It was a snowflake.”
“Yeah?”
“A little snowflake on my neck, kind of near my hairline in the back.”
“I think I remember you. Real big guy? Dark hair?”
I nod, and blink into the mirror. “That was me.” In my line of work, it’s wise to assume you’re going to stick out. When you’re six-foot-three, you have to.
“So what can I help you with?” he asks.
“I was wondering if you drew it.”
“That snowflake?”
“Yeah.”
“I draw them all. So yeah. All my shit is custom.”
“You give them out a lot?” I ask.
“You got a problem, man?”
“No. No problem.” I inhale slowly, hoping to bring my voice up from where it goes down deep when I’m thinking hard about something. So I don’t sound pissed off. “I saw a girl the other day—same tat. I was wondering if that means she got it up in Breckenridge.”
“Exact same?”
“Yeah. You do the same snowflake on everybody?”
He hums, as if he’s thinking. “For a while I did. Last year I started doing another one, seven pointed, kind of artsy. Gotta keep it fresh.”