“Fuck, it was cheaper for me when you were in prison,” he grouses. But he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet.
“Tell Reagan I’ll be back in a few,” I say. I walk out, keeping a gentle hand around the bulge in my pocket. The one that’s purring. Not the other one.
Reagan
It feels kind of strange going out the door with Emily and Friday, but they’re both parts of the Reed family, and I want to be a part of it, too. “I think Paul was checking out your ass again,” Emily says to Friday. Friday twitches her hips in the short skirt that flares around her hips. It’s very Marilyn Monroe, with the ties that go around her neck and the short, belled skirt.
Friday shakes her head. “Paul thinks of me as one of the guys, no matter what I wear to work.”
Emily lifts her V’d fingers up to her lips and licks through the middle of them. “That’s because he thinks you do that as much as he does.” She laughs, and Friday shoves her in the shoulder.
Emily giggles. She looks at me. “What kind of hot dog do you want?”
“All the way,” I say. I wonder if I should take one back for Pete. But I don’t even know what he would like. “What does Pete like?” I ask. “Do you know?”
“Onions and mustard,” Friday and Emily say at the same time, and Emily makes a gagging noise in her throat.
Friday holds up forty bucks. “Paul gave me cash to get hot dogs for everyone,” she says. Someone bumps into her, and she drops a twenty. I bend over to pick it up.
I hear a whistle behind me and immediately tense. But it’s just Emily. She lifts the edge of my shirt with delicate fingertips. “Somebody had a really good time playing with markers last night,” she says, but she’s grinning. Heat creeps up my face. I tug my shirt down. “And somebody doesn’t want to talk about it.” She laughs. She and Friday lean close together with their shoulders touching. They both narrow their eyes at me. “How high up do you think those markers went?” she asks Friday. But she knows I can hear her.
“I’d rather know how far down they went,” Friday says.
They both laugh. A grin tugs at my lips despite the heat that’s flooding my face. “Far enough,” I say quietly.
Emily’s eyes narrow again. “They haven’t done it yet,” she says. She turns around to order.
“She’s right, isn’t she?” Friday asks. I nod, and she curses, pulling a five from her pocket. She slides it into Emily’s back pocket. “And it won’t be tonight because he’ll still feel bad about your dog.” She puts a hand on my shoulder and rubs it fondly. “I’m really sorry about that,” she says.
I hadn’t thought about Mags in hours, and now I feel bad for forgetting her. Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back.
“Oh shit,” Emily says. “What did you do?” She glares at Friday.
“I mentioned her dog,” Friday says.
“I told you not to do that,” Emily hisses. “Pete said not to bring it up.”
He did? “It’s all right. I don’t mind,” I say. I want to miss her. I want to remember her. I want to talk about her.
Someone bumps into my shoulder, and I tense again. I don’t like this busy street. Not at all. I edge closer to Friday.
She looks at me as the vendor wraps up our hot dogs. “I want to like you, Reagan,” Friday says.
“I…want to…like you, too,” I say slowly.
“Those boys are like my family,” she says.
“Friday,” Emily warns.
But she holds up a hand. “Those boys are like my family. When I didn’t have anyone, they were there.” There’s a story here, and I really want to know what it is. “You have a family,” she says. “So if you f**k mine up, I will cut you.” She wields a plastic fork in my direction, but then she starts to laugh. “I’m just kidding,” she says. “Well, sort of.”
“I get it,” I say.
“She’s not even sleeping with him yet,” Emily says. “Leave her alone.”
Friday snorts. “I didn’t leave you alone.”
“You told us to spray disinfectant if we have sex at the shop.” Emily shakes her head. She grins. “So we bought extra disinfectant.”
“Eww,” Friday says.
I laugh. I could like these women.
We collect our hot dogs and head back to the tattoo parlor. But Pete’s not there when we get back. “Where did he go?” I ask.
“I sent him on an errand,” Paul says. He’s doing a tattoo and seems a little distracted.
“Is he coming back?” I ask. I’m not too happy to be stuck here, particularly since Matt has my car.
“Eventually,” Paul says.
I sit and eat my hot dog, but then the shop fills up. A group of marines walks in the door. There are five of them, and I suddenly feel cornered. I step toward the back of the building, but that doesn’t help my growing sense of unease, not in the least. Paul looks up from the tattoo he’s running, and his eyes narrow. “You okay, Reagan?” he asks. I’m not. I’m not all right at all. I thought I was past all this. But I’m not. Apparently, I’m only able to move past it when Pete’s with me, and that leaves me as disquieted as the men do.
I nod, but I’m seriously not all right.
Paul puts down his tattoo gun and walks to the back of the shop with me. He pulls the curtain around the private area. I heave in a breath, finally able to fill my lungs since those men came in the room. “Better?” he asks.