Chapter 10 #3
“Sorry,” she finally whispered, pulling herself back together as she sat up. “That was... shocking. It’s one thing to lose the inside and get an implant... and I was just starting to wrap my brain around that. But my nipples? I love my nipples. Alejandro loves my nipples.”
That armor she wore cracked briefly as grief and fear washed over her face. Her lip trembled for just a moment before she stiffened it up once again.
She stopped. Pressed her lips together. “This is a lot of information to receive from a tattoo artist in Mississippi.”
“I’m really sorry.” Rip handed her a glass of water. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“No, I—” She straightened. Sat up fully, took a sip, then handed back the glass. “I needed to know. I’m going to decide on this trip between a lumpectomy and a double mastectomy, so this is good to understand.” She looked at us, something working across her face that she then put firmly away.
“You’ve got this, Alice,” Rip said softly. “Whatever they take, we can reclaim. I promise.”
“Thank you, Rip. Now, let’s finish what we started.” She climbed back on her knees, nodding.
“You’re one tough cookie, Alice,” he said. Then the hum of his ink gun fired up again and he finished.
When we were all done, he had us line up and each pull down one cheek of our pants. He took one photo for us, one for his wall, and one to send to his best friend.
“She’s gonna love this. You four are the best customers I’ve ever had. I mean that.”
Alice pulled out a wad of cash, but he lifted his hands, backing away. “Nah. These are on me. It was an honor, ladies.”
She slowly walked toward him, leaned in, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Rip. And if I lose my nipples, there’s only one man I want to help me build them back.”
“It would be my honor.” He pressed a hand to his chest and folded into a bow.
But instead of pocketing the money, Alice reached into her purse and grabbed even more, setting what looked like a couple thousand dollars on the table. “Take your friend on a vacation. Somewhere warm and tropical. She deserves it. And so do you.”
He stared at it wordlessly as we bid him goodbye.
We walked back toward Bertha in a loose, warm cluster, the night air cool on our faces, the neon of The Rusty Spur still glowing down the block.
“The cancer card,” Marge said, shaking her head slowly. Then she spread her hands. “Powerful business.”
“I’m not going to drop the cancer card this whole trip,” Alice said.
“I’m just saying—”
“I know what you’re saying.”
“It got us tattoos is all. From a man named Rip. At midnight. In Mississippi.”
Alice was quiet for a moment. Then, in spite of everything, the corner of her mouth moved. “Powerful business, indeed.”
I walked between them with a tender hiney and a full heart.
Marge slung an arm around me. “Doris. You got a tattoo on your butt.”
“I did.” A giggle escaped my lips.
“What’s Axel going to say?”
“Honestly? I have no idea. I hope he likes it, but this? This was for us.”
Sylvie smirked. “What’s your Bible study group going to say?”
My eyes bulged. “They are never, ever going to find out.”
“What if you moon someone by accident?” Alice pressed a finger to her chin. “Or a gust of wind lifts your skirt while you’re setting up the bake sale.”
I gasped. “Well, I’ll have underwear on! It’ll cover it!”
“What if you’ve got a wedgie and your cheeks are showing when it happens?”
“Marge! That won’t happen!”
She shrugged. “I’m just doing risk assessment. Don’t want you getting kicked out of your Bible group, but I guess if you do, it’s more time you get to spend with us. The bad seeds who corrupted you.”
I laughed, and the laugh turned into the kind that had no end to it, rolling through me in waves as we reached Bertha.
I turned to them before we climbed inside. This was it. The end of my shift. I reached up and slowly pulled off the Viking helmet. It felt lighter now—or maybe I just felt stronger.
“My time is up,” I announced. “Captain Doris is officially retiring.”
I held the helmet out toward Marge. The plastic horns caught the moonlight.
“I’ve done the Ark, the aprons, the dancing, the bull riding, and the ink. I think I’ve pushed us as far as I can. Marge, you’re up.”
Marge didn’t hesitate. She snatched the helmet and jammed it onto her silver hair. She looked like a woman about to declare war on the entire interstate system.
“Captain Marge is on the bridge!” she shouted. “Strap in, widows.”
Alice groaned. “Please don’t get us killed, Marge.”
Marge just grinned. “I haven’t gotten us killed yet. Ye of little faith.”
Sylvie leaned toward Alice and whispered, “Yet being the operative word.”
Marge spun on her heel and marched up into Bertha. “Let’s get some shut-eye, soldiers. Got a big day tomorrow! Captain’s orders!”
We all shared a look and a worried smile, then climbed in one by one, warm from the whiskey and the dancing and the evening that had been more than any of us had planned for.
We got into our jammies and climbed into bed, and I lay there on my tender hiney, looking out the window at the tattoo parlor I could still see down the street.
Thank you, I told God quietly as Marge started snoring.
This is exactly what I needed. I hope You’re having as much fun watching this as I am living it.
And I was fairly certain He was.