Page 66 of Gin and Bear It

“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.