The theme for this week’s Mommy class was “spa day,” and there were various stations set up for the girls—one where they could get their hair done up in a bun like a princess, another where they could play dress up, and another where they could get their fingernails painted. It was a great opportunity for Saylor to interact with other kids outside of preschool. And I was grateful for a nice air-conditioned place to take her to socialize, considering it had been hot as balls in the city lately, so the playground sucked.
A lot of the mothers were getting their nails painted, too. My daughter took notice and announced, “Daddy, paint your nails!”
“No, honey. I don’t think that’s for me.”
“Come on over, Colby. I’ll take care of you,” said Amanda McNeeley in a suggestive voice. Amanda was another of the single ones.
Seeing no way out, I walked over and sat down. “What color should I get?” I asked my daughter.
“Pink!”
I looked over at Amanda and smiled. “Might as well go all in, right?”
Saylor picked the brightest fluorescent color, and Amanda shook the bottle. As she painted my nails, I looked over at my kid’s smiling face. She watched the process intently. There really was nothing I wouldn’t do for her. This proved it.
***
On the walk home, I noticed a mane of long, dark hair blowing in the summer breeze and coming down the sidewalk toward us. It was Billie, the angry tattoo artist, walking toward her shop from the opposite direction. Damn. Seemed I was so distracted by her miserable demeanor last night, I didn’t properly notice what a smokeshow she was. Billie was a petite little thing, short even in the sky-high heels she wore. Her black hair was a stark contrast to her porcelain skin. And she had one full-sleeve tattoo.
Her mouth curved into a smile when she spotted me. Although, I soon realized the smile wasn’t for me at all. “Who do we have here?” she asked as she stopped in front of us.
“This is my daughter, Saylor. Saylor, this is Billie, the nice lady who owns the tattoo shop.”
Billie knelt. “Your daddy actually thinks I’m a crazy person, and with good reason, but I swear I am a nice lady.” She adjusted the collar on Saylor’s dress. “How old are you?”
My daughter held up three little fingers. “Free. But almost four.”
“Three. Wow! You’re a big girl.”
“Look at my nails, Billie!”
“They’re so pretty!” Billie held out her hand. “I have blue nails, too.”
I showed off my own fingers. “And I have pink.”
Billie’s eyes widened. “Yes, you do.” She laughed. “That’s rad, Mr. Landlord.”
“Please call me Colby.”
She nodded. “Colby.”
Pretty sure she had me pegged as an uptight dickwad after last night. At least the pink nails might have earned me a coolness point in the other direction.
She stood up. “Look…I want to apologize for my rudeness. That was just a really bad night for me.”
“Yeah. I overheard it all.”
“Figured you did.”
When she looked down at the ground, my eyes briefly fell to her chest. It was hard not to look, considering she was wearing a corset, with two milky white mounds playing peekaboo—a black corset under a red-and-black plaid shirt rolled up at the sleeves.
My daughter reached out and touched Billie’s arm, tracing the designs on her sleeve tat.
“She’s always been mesmerized by body art,” I explained. I patted Saylor’s back. “Would you like Daddy to get a tattoo someday?”
She nodded, not taking her eyes off of Billie.
“I wanted to surprise her.” I winked. “But you know, that plan went to hell.”
“Thank God it did.” She snorted. “What were you thinking? I mean, maybe if her name was Rose, I would let you tattoo a rose on your body. Other than that, it’s lame. I’m not tattooing anything boring and generic on you.” Billie looked down at Saylor. “You wanna pick out a tattoo for your dad?”
Saylor jumped. “Yes!”
“You want to come into the shop for a bit?”
I placed my hand on Saylor’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”
Her eyes met mine. “I don’t have a client until four.”
My daughter made the decision for me when she took Billie’s hand, and they walked toward the shop together. I took the opportunity to admire my beautiful tenant’s backside, which was just as attractive as the front. She wore black leggings that had a bit of a shimmer to them and left little to the imagination. No wonder this shop always seemed busy. Goddamn.
A bell chimed as she opened the door.
“Children aren’t normally allowed in here for safety reasons,” Billie explained. “But as long as I’m not working on anyone, it’s fine.”
I scratched my chin. “Ah… I’d never thought about that. Glad I never promised Saylor she could watch me get the tattoo.”
“Yeah. Most legit shops have that rule.” She walked over to a shelf, pulled out a big black binder with laminated pages, and handed it to Saylor. “There are lots of pretty ones in here. Take a look and let me know what you like for your dad. Or I can make something new from scratch.” She smiled.