“Where are we going?” Grace’s giggles trail behind us as I drag her down the street.
We’ve spent the past three days doing good things—baking cookies with her mom, helping at her brother’s school for some holiday recital, and helping her mom plan some shmancy New Year’s Eve party—now it’s time to do something bad.
“I’m not telling.”
Telling her would ruin the fun, and she’d probably chicken out. If I completely blindside her with thi
s, I have a better chance of getting her to agree.
I spot the sign for the shop and begin to slow down.
I had to search the internet before I found a place that I trusted to do this.
“Oh, hell no.” Grace spots the sign and connects the dots. “I’m not getting a tattoo, Bennett.”
I hold on tight to her hand, not letting her get away. “Come on Grace, a tattoo is like the true mark of a rebel. You have to do it.”
“I don’t even know what I’d get.”
“I already have something picked out for you.”
Her mouth drops. “You have to be kidding me. What?”
“I’m not telling. It’s a surprise.”
“Bennett,” she practically shrieks my name, “you can’t expect me to get a tattoo—something permanent—and not know what it is.”
“You trust me, right?”
“Yes,” she answers without a second of thought.
“Then you have nothing to worry about.”
She sizes me up. “Do I get to pick one for you, then?”
I nod. “Absolutely.”
She grins. “Then I’ll do it.”
Something tells me I might be in trouble. I don’t argue with her, though. I open the door and let her go in first.
The shop is dark with purple walls and black curtains. Pictures of tattoos and other drawings line the walls. A man sits behind the counter, both arms covered in ink. I’ve gotten a few tattoos over the years but it’s been a while since I got anything new. I’m mildly afraid of what Grace will pick for me, but I know she’s feeling the same way.
“Hey, man, I’m Bennett,” I say to the guy. “I think we spoke on the phone?”
“Oh, yeah, I’m Drew.” He tips his head at me in acknowledgement. “You guys can come back here.”
He leads us into a room in the back of the studio. I requested a private room since I thought it would make Grace feel more comfortable.
“Who’s going first?” Drew asks.
Grace surprises me by saying, “Me, I guess. I need more time to figure out what you’re going to get,” she tells me, biting her lip and giving away how nervous she is.
“Take a seat then.” Drew slaps his hand against the leather chair.
Grace takes a deep breath and sits down. “Please don’t give me something stupid,” she begs.
“Trust me, sweetheart, I’ve got this. You have nothing to worry about.”