Eric didn’t look the tiniest bit surprised. “And that makes everything he did okay?”
She had sort of let him off the hook as soon as he’d confided. “It’s hard for him. His father will never accept this.”
“Like your mother will never accept me.”
Rebekah lowered her eyes. “It’s different.”
“I talked to her on the phone when you didn’t answer your cell. She was spouting Bible verses at me.”
“Let me guess, the story of Isaac and Rebekah.” She stuffed more salad in her mouth and watched him fidget with the stem of his wineglass.
“Yeah, actually.”
“Did she tell you the reason I got cancer is because I make bad decisions, and God is punishing me?”
“She said that to you?”
She nodded and closed her eyes to hold in emotions suddenly overwhelming her.
Eric reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “She told me she promised God that you would marry Isaac. Otherwise, she seems to think more horrible shit is going to happen to you and Dave.”
Rebekah sighed. “We thought she was better.”
“Better?”
“Yeah, she had a mental breakdown when I was going through chemo. That’s one reason why I depended on Isaac so much. After my treatments, she seemed to recover. I guess the stress is getting to her again. I’ll talk to Dad about it.”
Their entrees arrived before Rebekah had finished her salad. She was grateful Eric had ordered for her. That meant they could get out of here sooner. “Are you sure you want to marry me?” she asked him. “I’ve got a lot of baggage.”
“It makes you more interesting.”
She laughed. “If that’s what you want to call it.”
“We could do what Brian and Myrna did and skip the engagement.”
“Is that what you want?”
“I don’t know. I never thought much about getting married until a couple months ago, when Sinners started falling like dominoes. I figured I’d be the last one standing.”
“Technically, Brian is the only one who’s married. You could be the second to fall if you want.” She winked.
“Don’t you want the huge ceremony and the big dress and the pile of Crock-Pots?”
“You mean crackpots.”
“Crackpots?”
“Otherwise known as my crazy family.”
He laughed and some of the tension drained from his body. Her mother got under his skin too. Another thing they had in common. “I’ll do whatever you want, Reb. I don’t want to make you feel like you’re missing out on anything.”
“I want to do something unusual,” she said, her heart thudding with excitement.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know yet. Let me think about it. We’ll brainstorm. Come up with something really fun and unique.”
He grinned. “I love you, you know that?”
“Yeah, I know. That’s why you’re going to let me pretend to be Isaac’s girlfriend at a party next week.” She was picking up on Eric’s uncanny ability to change the subject without missing a beat.
“What?”
“No matter when we decide to get married, I still want the engagement ring. So don’t think you’re getting out of that,” she said, trying to keep him unbalanced. “Hurry up and eat.”
“What party, Rebekah? I thought Isaac was gay. Why would he—”
“Pretend,” she said. “It’s just a favor. Nothing more. He’s not ready to come out publicly yet.”
“But—”
“Let’s play cops and robbers when we get home. You can pretend I’m a jewel thief and handcuff me. Show me your long arm of the law until I confess to crimes I never committed.”
“Stop changing the subject.”
She laughed. “Disorienting, isn’t it? Do you have handcuffs at home, or do we need to stop by Bonds-R-Us?”
He dropped his fork and grinned. “It’s definitely time for another pit stop. Maybe we’ll pick up a deep sea diver outfit for you to wear.” He nonchalantly took a sip of water, while he watched her closely.
She contemplated the idea, knowing he was trying to find out what she, Trey, and Isaac had really been doing in Isaac’s apartment. After a moment, she shook her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t want to catch crabs.”
Eric laughed and sucked water down his windpipe. He was choking so hard, Rebekah stood to whack him on the back.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He nodded, still choking. “Jeez, woman,” he gasped between coughs. “I’m the one who’s supposed to crack all the stupid jokes.”
“Sorry. I’ll try to come up with smarter jokes from now on. The stupid ones are all yours.”
“This is why we work,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Compromise.”
“I thought it was the great sex.”
Her flippant comment elicited several stares from nearby tables.
“Well, there’s that too,” Eric said.
After dinner, they walked across the parking lot to the mall. They found the jewelry store, but when they arrived the metal gate was down, and the lights were off.
Rebekah’s heart sank with disappointment. “Closed? How can it be closed? What time is it?”
“It’s after eight,” Eric said.
“Why is it so late?”
Eric lifted his eyebrows.
She made a sound of annoyance. “Of all the days for Isaac to come out of the closet.” She gazed into a display window with longing. Not because she really wanted a ring, but because she wanted the world to see proof that she’d given her heart to Eric. “These are all too girly anyway,” she said, trying to make herself feel better about having to wait at least another day.
Eric chuckled and wrapped an arm around her back to direct her to the parking lot again.
“There’s probably someplace still open that’s more suitable to brand you as mine,” he whispered into her ear.
“Yeah, a tattoo parlor,” she said with an unladylike snort. Once the idea took hold, she grew excited. “Eric!” She grabbed his forearm and stopped walking abruptly. “I want your name as my tramp stamp.” She lifted the back of her shirt and pointed to her lower back. “Right there. Your name and music notes on either side. Maybe some little butterflies.”
“Are you serious, Reb? That’s permanent, you know.”
“I know. You don’t want me to?” She traced a tattoo on his forearm with one finger. It showed a dagger through a skull. It was a beautiful piece of art, but masculine. “Would you rather I get one that matches yours?”
“I would love my name permanently etched on your sexy little back. I could stare at it while…” He lifted her shirt and took a peek at the area in question. “Damn…” he said breathlessly and gave himself a little shake. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”
He scooped her into his arms, tossed her over his shoulder, and headed toward his car.
“Right now?”
“Yep. And I’m going to get your name tattooed down the length of my cock.”
“You are not!”
“Yeah, I am.”
She wondered if her name would get bigger when he was hard. She wondered about something else. “How long does it take for a tattoo to heal?”
“Several weeks.”
“Then you won’t be able to have sex for several weeks.”
“You’re right. Forget that then. Where do you want your name?”
She thought for a moment. What was the sexiest part of Eric’s body, besides his cock? That sweet V-shape at his lower belly that disappeared into the waistband of his underwear. That’s where she wanted her name. Then when he held her back against his belly, their names would press together.
“Put me down,” she said. “Let me show you where I want it.”
He gently set her on her feet, and she lifted his T-shirt in front. She pushed the waistband of his jeans lower and traced a swath of bare skin above his underwear. “I want it right here.”
He drew a breath through his teeth. “That is going to hurt.”
“More than it would on your cock?”
He chuckled. “Good point.” He hurried her to the car and opened the door for her. “I know a great artist. He’s done all my ink and the smiley-faced flower on the top of Jace’s foot.”
“Jace has a flower on his foot?”
“Yeah, I got him really drunk. Let’s just say his judgment was impaired. Usually, they won’t tattoo someone when they’re that inebriated, but I’ve known Butch for years. And Jace said it was okay before he passed out. We both got our nipples pierced that night too.”
“Kind of like when girls get their nails done together.”
He looked grievously offended by that comparison. “Uh, no.”
She laughed. “If you say so.”
Eric headed out of the parking lot and drove toward the coast. “As excited as I was to get you a ring, I’m even more excited by the thought of my name tattooed on your skin.”
She smiled. “Me too. My mother is going to
hate
it.”
Eric’s face fell. “Is that what this is about? Revenge on your mother?”
“Of course not.”
The tattoo parlor was in a quaint strip of old stores a few blocks from the ocean. A cool breeze blew onshore. Rebekah wished she’d brought a sweater. Eric fed a parking meter with quarters while Rebekah waited. He grabbed her hand and led her into The Ink Well—a shady establishment at best. A man, tattooed from neck to toe, looked up from the tattoo he was inking on some guy’s chest.
“Yo, Sticks. Back for more?” the artist called.
“You know I can’t get enough.”
“Who’s the pretty lady?”
“My girlfriend, em…” He glanced at Rebekah. “Fiancée? Can I call you that?” he whispered.
“Do you see a ring on this finger?” She shook her bare, left hand in front of his face.
He sighed. “Still my girlfriend,” he said. “She wants my name tattooed…” He turned her around and lifted her shirt, running a finger along her lower back. “… right there.” He then rubbed his lower belly. “And I want hers right here. Can you squeeze us in right now?”
“Yeah, I’m almost done here.” Butch dabbed the guy’s chest with a towel, removing dots of something red from his skin.
Rebekah winced when she realized the guy under the needle was bleeding.
“Does it hurt?” she whispered to Eric.
“Yeah. In a strange way, it feels good too. Like, you know that itch you can never scratch enough? This scratches it. Do you want me to go first?”
She shook her head. “If I wait, I might chicken out.”
“You’re sure you want this done?”
She looked at him, her heart fluttery with emotions. “Yeah.”
When it was Rebekah’s turn to go under the needle, she explained her vision to the artist, Butch.
“Just his first name? Or first and last?” Butch asked.
“Just Eric in fancy lettering. And maybe a music staff and music notes on either end to bracket it, and tiny, multicolored butterflies above it to make it look feminine.”
Butch nodded, obviously picturing what she wanted in his mind. “I’ll draw up a stencil real quick. See if I can capture what you want. Then we can make adjustments before we make it permanent.”
Rebekah’s tummy fluttered as if she’d swallowed a few of those feminine little butterflies. “Okay,” she croaked.
“I’m going to help him,” Eric said. He handed her a book that had photos of the tattoos Butch had done. “Keep yourself occupied.”
Nervous, she looked through the pages. Butch really was a talented artist. She could tell she was in good hands. Some portraits he’d inked on people looked so real it was as if she were looking at a photograph taped to their skin. Ten minutes later, Butch and Eric returned.
The stenciled drawing he showed her stole her breath. It was perfect! She imagined brides must feel that way when they tried on the wedding dress they were destined to wear for one special day. She was trying on a piece of artwork she would wear for the rest of her life.
“Oh… I love it!” She waved at the tears suddenly in her eyes. She was making a lifelong commitment to this piece of art and the man it represented. Or all the guys named Eric in the world.
Eric ran his finger along the notes drawn on the wavy music staff that tapered into pointed curls on either side of his name. “I’ll play this for you when we get home,” he said.
“Did you write me a real song? I thought it was just for looks.”
“Just a little melody.” He brushed her hair behind her ear and leaned close to whisper, “It means I love you.”
She turned her head to capture his lips in a lingering kiss. “I’m so gonna rock your world when we get home, baby.”
“You always do.” He patted her butt and directed her to the table where Butch was waiting.
She unfastened her jeans and slid them low on her hips so he had more area to work with. He transferred the stencil to her lower back and made her look in the mirror to make sure it was where she wanted it. It looked even better on her skin than on the paper.
“So sexy,” Eric murmured.
Butch laughed. “She’d make any tattoo look sexy. Great-lookin’ woman you’ve got here.”
Rebekah beamed. She never tired of compliments.
While the stencil dried on Rebekah’s lower back, Butch busied himself changing the needle in the little machine that reminded Rebekah of a small gun, only with a big freaking needle sticking out of the end. She was trying to be brave, but her tummy fluttered with nerves.
“Do you want yours to match hers?” Butch asked Eric.
“Less swirls in the lettering and bats instead of butterflies, but yeah.”
Rebekah tensed when Butch dragged the buzzing needle across her skin. It felt like someone was scratching her repeatedly. It didn’t hurt nearly as bad as she’d expected, but adrenaline continuously pumped through her body. Eric held her hand the entire time and kept asking if she was okay.
“Why don’t you try taking my mind off it instead of reminding me that someone is jabbing me with a needle eleventy million times?” she asked testily.
“Sorry.”
“Do you still have that jagged crack I inked between your shoulder blades?” Butch asked Eric.
“Yeah. I haven’t even modified it. Still looks great.”
“That’s the first tattoo I ever did professionally,” Butch said. “How old were you, Eric?”
“Um, fifteen, I think.”
“Yeah, he tried to tell me he was eighteen. I figured he was lying, but I needed the experience, so I put him under the needle.”
“I like that tattoo,” Rebekah said. It looked like a crack in the earth that led to hell. The fingers of a demonic hand protruded from the fiery interior, clinging to the edge of the fissure, as if trying to escape. She sucked a breath through her teeth as the needle passed over bone for the first time. “Ow.” Another surge of adrenaline coursed through her body.