Chapter 19
NINETEEN
JADA
“She’s free,” Ash says. “Let’s go get a tattoo.”
“Right now?”
“Right now.” He smiles and nods down the street. “C’mon.”
I follow him, and like he did inside the club, he gently takes my hand and guides me through the crowd. He clearly knows where he’s going, like he’s been here countless times. He takes us through side roads and eventually we come across a small shop with a neon sign that says tattoos.
“Your heart is pounding and we haven’t even gone in,” he says as his fingers brush against the inside of my wrist.
“It’s just so sudden.” I’m impulsive, but usually about ordering food or buying something, not getting permanent ink on my body.
I’ve only been in that one tattoo shop before, and it had been enormous.
This space is cozy, like a spot you’d want to hang out in, and pristine.
Some curtained-off areas are farther back beyond the small lounge area, with people chatting quietly and laughing.
A petite Black woman with sleeves of tattoos and short cropped hair is leaning against the front desk and brightens when she sees Ash.
“What’s up?” She opens her arms for a hug and Ash hugs her back before they both look at me. “And who is this?”
“Hey, Berta. This is my wife, Jada,” Ash says, putting his hand on my lower back.
“I’m sorry, your what?” Berta stares at him for a few beats. “You’re not joking. What the fuck, Ash?”
“It’s been kind of fast,” he says. “But the tattoo is for her. Her first one.”
Berta waves her hand in front of her face and laughs. “Okay, okay, this is a lot. But come on back and we’ll talk.”
We follow Berta to the farthest curtained-off area, where she has her setup.
Ash guides me into the biggest chair, and Berta sits on her rolling seat.
What I assume is her work is all over the walls, and it looks familiar—she must have done the majority of Ash’s work.
But it doesn’t seem like she’s done the same tattoo over and over again.
Her style is recognizable but ranges from dainty, small pieces to full, bold sleeves like Ash’s.
“Let’s get the tattoo stuff out of the way before I grill Ash on the fact that he’s fucking married.
” Berta gives him a playful glare and grabs a tablet.
“What are you interested in doing and where would you like it? Actually, back up—do you like my work, or did Ash just drag you in here without asking you if you even liked my style?”
She gestures at the wall.
“He kind of dragged me here, but I love your style. I like his tattoos a lot. Um…” I look at Ash, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I wanted a little bouquet of roses, violets, and morning glories. I have a picture somewhere.”
I pull up my photo app and search. Thankfully I didn’t delete it. It’s simple—the birth month flowers for June, February, and September.
“Cute.” She pulls a stylus out from the side of the tablet. “And you like the colors?”
“Yes. If they aren’t a problem,” I say.
“Girl, the colors are definitely not a problem.” She chuckles.
“I’m not sure where I want to put it, though,” I say. “What spot hurts the least?”
Does that make me sound like a baby who can’t take it? She doesn’t seem to mind, though, or laugh.
“I can tell you what hurts like hell. Let me see that picture again.” Berta takes a picture of my photo on her phone and starts sketching from it. “Avoid any really bony parts of your body. Arms are a safe bet, like the fleshy parts.”
I bite my bottom lip. “Okay, maybe the back of my upper arm?”
“Sounds good to me. Let me sketch something out and we can go from there.” She starts sketching more. “So, explain how when I saw you last…what was it, August? You were single. And now you’re married to this absolutely adorable woman. Did the band finally collapse?”
“The band finally collapsed and now it’s a whole legal shit show.” Ash sighs and slouches in his seat. “It’s more complicated than this, but basically, the asshole side of the band fucked me and Dylan out of our share of royalties for writing all the music on our most popular album.”
“Fucking figures,” Berta murmurs as she taps around on her tablet. “Assholes.”
“I came back to Jepsen for Thanksgiving and ran into Jada. Things just clicked,” he says. I pick at my dress so I don’t fidget even harder.
“We’ve known each other forever,” I add.
“She’s Waylon’s best friend,” Ash says.
“The veterinarian brother? The ultra good guy?” Berta’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wow.”
“Yeah.” Ash gives me a gentle smile that makes my heart flip in my chest despite myself. It doesn’t feel put on anymore. “And it’s another long story, but I needed to get married for an inheritance. We were already talking marriage, so we figured why not?”
“That’s fucking wild,” Berta says with a soft laugh. “But hey, when you know, you know. I just assumed you’d be a bachelor forever given the whole…Calabasas incident.”
She trails off and gives Ash a vague gesture. They exchange a look that’s a bit intense, but it fizzles out. Okay, this whole Calabasas incident has to be more than he implied when he joked about it in the past. But my anxiety about the tattoo keeps me quiet, so I mentally tuck that away for later.
“Things changed,” Ash says, his tone light again.
“Fair.” Berta’s brows furrow in concentration, then she zooms in on her sketch. “How does this direction feel?”
It looks a lot like my reference image, but with something extra. She added a few more leaves and smaller flowers that tie it all together perfectly.
“I love it,” I say.
“Hell yes. I love nailing it on the first try.” She grins and starts tapping around. “Let’s get the placement right and we can get started. It shouldn’t take long.”
She gets the sketch printed off to a translucent transfer thing, and we figure out where to put it.
It’s just the right size on the back of my left arm.
I already like it, but the idea of the needle going into my arm is making me stress sweat.
The amount of prep and cleaning she does only draws out my anxiety, though I’m glad she’s making sure everything is sterile.
“Relax, hun,” Berta says as she gets into position. “It’ll hurt more if you’re tense. But let me know if you want a break. It’s no problem at all.”
I take a deep breath and let it out. The buzzing of the tattoo gun has me on edge regardless.
I guess I relax enough for her to start. It stings, but it’s not as intense of a pain as I assumed it’d be.
“Not bad, right?” Ash says. He’s moved to sit in front of me and seeing him so calm is steadying me.
“Not pleasant, though,” I say. “How did you do most of your body?”
He glances at Berta and grins. “I’m good at pretending I’m not drunk.”
“Yeah fucking right. I just used to work at shops with low standards for that kind of thing,” she says. “You were absolutely turnt for some of our early work. Not just drunk.”
“Turnt? What year are we in where we’re still saying people are turnt?” Ash laughs.
“Because this was what, a decade ago? And what other term could I use for the state you were in?” Berta asks. “Also, Jada, I don’t take responsibility for most of the stupid-ass tattoos he has hidden under his clothes.”
What tattoos hidden under his clothes? I’ve only seen a few when he’s shirtless under his open robe.
Now I’m painfully curious. I’ve never gotten to examine each tattoo up close.
But I can’t do that. That’s totally out of bounds.
“She totally can. But she just won’t admit it,” Ash says. “You’ve properly repented by all the coverup work you’ve done.”
“Damn straight. I still get more people asking about your work in my portfolio than anyone else.”
She tattoos me in silence, which only makes me focus more on the little needles going into my skin. Berta pauses for a moment, like she picked up on my body language.
“Ash said that a previous tattoo artist said they couldn’t tattoo color on dark skin?” Berta asked. I nod and focus on my breathing. “What a dick. It’s more common than you’d think, even though it shouldn’t be. But you’re finally getting it now. You’ve wanted it for a while?”
“Yeah, I have. Not, like, enough to find someone who could actually do it, but I’ve had this idea for a long time,” I say. “They’re the birth month flowers for June, February, and September to represent my mom and each of my grandparents. They’ve all passed.”
“That’s sweet. A memorial tattoo, then,” Berta says.
“Yeah. My mom passed in an accident when I was four, so I mostly have early direct memories of her. But she was a big part of my family’s hotel when she was alive.
She loved history, and so do I, so I feel like we’re connected that way.
And she loved flowers, so originally the tattoo was just June’s flower.
But my grandparents passed recently, so I added them, too. ”
She murmurs her condolences, and they’re slightly easier to take now than they were even a few weeks ago.
“Your family owns a historic hotel?” she asks after a pause. I nod. “That’s cool. I didn’t even know Jepsen had that kind of thing. Ash made it sound like it was a tourist shit-hole where his family’s business was king.”
“Wow, dramatic,” I say with a smile. “It’s only like that on Main. There’s a whole bunch of cool history in Jepsen, but I won’t talk your ear off about it.”
“Talk away,” Ash says. “You know a lot and you’re the only person who could get me to care about Jepsen’s history.”
My face gets hot. Usually people only play along to be polite, but Ash seems to genuinely want me to talk about it.
“Jepsen is a stop on the drive from Atlanta to Nashville, so the hotel has always been a good spot for traveling Black musicians to rest in a safe place,” I say.
Once my momentum starts, I keep talking, giving the full history of Jepsen. They both actively listen, and before I know it, I’ve talked so long that my tattoo is done.
“All finished,” Berta says to me. “Want to take a look?”
“Wow, already?” I ask. “Sorry, I basically gave y’all a lecture.”
“Don’t apologize for being passionate. I’ve really never given a shit about Jepsen until you told us about it,” Ash says.
I can’t meet his gaze. Ash sitting there listening to me talk felt good. Even if it was just him being polite.
But Ash isn’t like his brothers. He’s not exactly the type to do something just because it’s polite or because we have some fake marriage scheme to pull off.
I can’t read into this too much. Just because we’ve had a nice time and get along now doesn’t mean much.
I step around the chair and look at my tattoo. It’s still red, of course, but it looks so perfect that I immediately tear up. It’s exactly what I wanted.
“God, sorry,” I say, sniffing. “It’s perfect. I love it. Thank you so much for taking me on last minute.”
“It’s no problem at all. I’m glad you love it.” Berta smiles. “I’m glad I got to meet Ash’s wife. I still can’t believe it.”
“Jesus, it’s not that weird,” Ash says with a snort.
Berta gives him a long-suffering look. “Listen, you’ve told me a lot about your love life. She must be something special if you wanted to lock her down this fast. And just from this short time, I can tell she is special. Don’t fuck it up or I’ll be mad.”
Ash huffs a laugh and tucks a hand into his pocket. “It’ll be fine.”
Berta gives me a rundown of the aftercare I need to do. Before I can get my card out to pay, Ash handles it for me. I don’t want to protest here—this is a normal husband thing, right?—but I’m going to give him an earful when we leave.
We say goodbye to Berta and head back out onto the streets of Nashville. Everything has calmed down, so we can walk without him pulling me through the crowd.
“Berta is cool,” I say. “Also, you have to let me pay you back for the tattoo.”
“She is cool. And you’re not paying me back,” he says. “I dragged you to it out of the blue. I’m not going to make you pay for it.”
I sigh. “Now I feel guilty.”
“For doing a thing that I put you up to?” Ash raises an eyebrow and we stop at a crosswalk. “Don’t. Being guilt-free is freeing.”
“True.” I follow him and realize he’s not even using a map. “You know how to get back to the hotel from here?”
“Yep.”
“You seem to know this area well,” I say. “I didn’t know you came back to Nashville that often. Your mom was always saying you don’t come home enough.”
“I don’t come back to Jepsen. But Nashville is where we recorded all of our albums,” he says. “Mom always wanted me to come home more, but you know how she can be. Sticking to most holidays when we weren’t on tour was best for my sanity.”
“I get that.”
We walk in silence for a while, though my brain wants to explode with questions.
I get that he doesn’t like Jepsen, but is it more than it just being boring?
His mom is a bit overbearing, but is it so much that he doesn’t want to even see her?
And most importantly, what did Berta mean about Ash being a bachelor forever?
“What are you thinking about?” Ash asks me.
“Hm?”
“You keep staring at me and it looks like you’re thinking about saying something.” He gives me a half smile.
“What really happened in Calabasas?”