“I know I shouldn't be spending anything,” she says, but I wave her excuses away before they come.
“No. Stop that. Look, you're twenty-two, Brooke. Relax, have some fun and don't worry about justifying any of it.” I look down at her in that weird hat and think she looks so damn cute that I shove a fifty into her purse when she isn't looking to pay for it. I kind of owe her because I am drinking in her quirky look like it's lemonade, baby. Sweet and sour all at the same time.
I buy Brooke and me some burritos at one of the food carts and we walk along the boardwalk together, the soft whisper of water against the shore mixing with the music and the chatter. For a small town get-together, it's totally bomb.
“What's it like, living in Las Vegas? I can imagine what it'd be like to visit, but to live there? Is it just craziness all the time?” I laugh and chew my bite of burrito, doing a little twirl to the chortling of the saxophone as Brooke chuckles and clutches her foil wrapped food in both hands.
“It's always a hoot and a holler, you know? Our shop is right,” I slick my hand through the air, “on the Strip, so there are tourists galore parading in and out at all hours. We're open twenty-four seven, too. So much weird shit happens at night.”
“Do you pierce … everything?” Brooke asks, glancing sidelong at me as we pass under puddles of light from the street lamps, couples gathered on benches, cuddling up or necking like teenagers. “Like …” She waves one of her hands in the area of her crotch. “Vaginas and stuff.”
I laugh again and shake my head, kicking my red and black knee-high Converse against the pavement as I hop up on a bench and take a look out at the bay. Damn. One of the few things I missed about this place was the view of the water. I mean there's water in Vegas, in all the fountains and faux waterfalls and fake ass lakes, but that's just it—it's artificial as hell. In the middle of a goddamn desert and there's just … all of this crap everywhere that doesn't belong there. It's never bothered me before, but to be honest, it's kind of bugging me right now.
“Yep. I pierce pussies, sure. Cocks. Lots and lots of nipples. I mean hordes of fucking nipples. Belly buttons, lips, noses, brows, ears, whatever.” I look down at Brooke and smile. “In fact, since I first met you, I've been checking out your eyebrows.” I point at my own face and tuck my fingers into my back pockets. “You have gorgeous brows, you know that?”
Brooke reaches up and smooths her thumb over one.
“I've never really thought about it, no. Why?”
“Because I want to pierce you so goddamn badly.” Brooke's cheeks fill with fire as she glances away, out at the darkness of the water. There are a few boats out there, lights shimmering in the navy blue night sky.
“You want to pierce my … eyebrow?” she asks as she turns back to me and finishes off the last bite of her burrito, tossing the crumpled foil into a nearby trash can.
“If biostatisticians are allowed to have pierced brows, then sure. I want. So badly.”
“Do you have the stuff for that? I mean, doesn't it take special needles and disinfectant and all that?”
“I've got everything I need in my car.” I slap my hands together. “I could do it easy. Real quick. We could stop by my brother's place after this and do it.” I grin down at her. “You game for that, Smarty-Pants?”
Brooke climbs up to stand on the bench next to me, turning and staring out at the water for a moment.
“Why the hell not?” she asks and I pump my fist. When she looks back at me, I'm grinning big at her. “You are actually a body piercer though, right? This isn't like the nanny gig, is it? Because I really don't want an infected piercing next to my eye.”
“I am legit as fuck. And good, too.” I point at my cock. “Who do you think pierced your new best friend, Brooke Overland? Hmm? That was me.” I point at my belly button, my nipples. “I pretty much pierced all of my own shit. And trust me, I've got some very satisfied customers back at home, girls who can vouch for my piercing abilities all night long. Let's just say, I'm really good at sticking long hard things inside of people.”
“That is so gross,” Brooke moans, jumping down off the bench. The way she moves, I can almost imagine what it'd be like to see her dance. I feel sort of guilty for even thinking about it considering how upset she was about the whole ordeal, but … damn. I really want to stop in at that club before I leave town and see her in action. I wonder if she'd be cool with that? “Please don't ever say that again.”