“I am. And I’m just like a bad penny too. I always turn up. There’s no getting rid of me.”
“Wouldn’t want it any other way.” She slung an arm over my shoulder. “You’re a good friend—”
“Thank you,” I said sweetly.
“Even if you’re disgusting.”
I leaned into her as we walked up to Tonic’s door. “Aw, I love you too.”
Ramona pulled open the door, and Veronica and I walked in, still canoodling. “Precious” by The Pretenders played over the speakers.
“Look, Ronnie — it’s your song!”
She laughed, slapping me on the ass when we parted.
Ramona beelined for the counter where Shep waited, smiling from behind his thick beard. I swear to God, he and his brother, Joel, had the most virile hair of any men I’d ever seen.
She practically jumped into his big, meaty arms. Ramona was a tiny blonde thing covered in tattoos, and he was a big, hairy beast with a smile only for her.
I found myself smiling too, watching how gross they were. They almost made me wish I wanted to fall in love.
The thought actually made me laugh out loud.
I made my way to my station in the back and stepped into my little cube to get myself situated.
Tonic was one of the premier tattoo parlors in Manhattan, so good that most of us were booked out for months. Joel and Shep had opened it forever ago and had curated some of the best talent in the city — so much talent that they got attention in the way of awards, magazine features, and even a deal with a TV studio.
About a year before, we’d started filming a reality show in the shop, which basically turned the place into a telenovela. Drama city. But man, was it fun, and everyone had seemed to get it all out of their systems in the first season. Season two would start filming soon, kicking off with Ramona and Shep’s wedding.
I sat at my desk, humming along to Stone Temple Pilots, pulling out my sketchbook to work on a piece for that afternoon, and in a snap, the day was nearly gone. My thoughts had been on Bodie the whole time.
I wondered all sorts of things — what was he doing? Where had he been all those years? Where the fuck did he learn to bang like that? What had happened to the kid I knew so long ago?
I’d always liked Diddle. I remembered him making me laugh, even when I was sad, the snark in him appealing to the snark in me. I never thought about him like I had been since running into him, and now it bothered me a little that I’d been so shallow back then. Of course, I was sixteen and had been obsessed with a complete and utter dickhole. I’d had no sense. None. If I had, I’d have dumped Rodney and found somebody who at least had a little respect for me and wouldn’t give Anna Dorf rides home from school, which I’d later learned was code for blow jobs.
One time, we had all been at a bonfire on the beach for a kegger, and Rodney just left me there. One minute he was there, the next, poof, I had been stranded at the beach with no ride home.
I’d been sitting away from the crowd, drunk and crying and dejected, and Bodie had sat next to me with his drink. He hadn’t asked me what was wrong or pointed out that I was crying. He hadn’t mentioned Rodney at all. He’d just sat there with me until my tears ran dry, and then he’d asked me if I’d ever seen Donnie Darko. And for the next hour, we’d talked about a hundred other things — movies and music, our teachers and school gossip — and by the end of the night, I’d felt like I was going to be okay after all. He’d asked me if I needed a ride home and delivered me safely at my doorstep like a white knight.
It was maybe one of the nicest things a guy had ever done for me without expectation on how they’d be repaid. Bodie had given exactly what I needed in the moment without me having to ask. He’d just known.
And now … now Diddle had gone and grown up, and boy, had he grown up right.
I couldn’t help but smile, my heart all flippy and fluttery and ooey and gooey. I thought about all the things he’d done to me and thought about how many more I wanted him to do. I imagined his body, so strong and hard, his smile, so bright and gorgeous, and then smiled even wider at the knowledge that those braces that had helped disguise him back then had granted me that smile.
I thought about his lips and how they were the exact same shade as the head of his cock, just like I’d figured. And then I was thinking about his cock and clenching the saddle stool between my thighs to relieve the pressure. Three shifts of my hips, and I probably would have had an orgasm. That was just how ridiculously hot I was for him.
I didn’t even know why he was any different from the other dudes I’d dated. I’d been with plenty of guys — hot guys, funny guys, smart guys, dumb guys. Rich guys, poor guys, and more. But Bodie was like the best of all of them, rolled into one. If I could have hand picked a guy, with the brains, looks, attitude, and wang skills I wished for, it would be him.
And now I couldn’t stop thinking about him, couldn’t stop wondering when I’d see him again. And I wanted to see him again as soon as possible even if it was too soon.
Maybe it was just because I’d known him so long ago. Maybe it was because he’d nailed me into oblivion. Maybe I was just infatuated, which was my primary function.
All I knew was this: I was so very impressed, and it was so very hard to impress me.
Once, I’d heard Patrick, one of the other tattoo artists, joking about a chick being dicknotized. And the word hit me as my needle buzzed in my hand, working on an elaborate henna design on a girl’s thigh.
I was dicknotized.
I laughed way louder than was appropriate, thankful for having the foresight to have moved my gun, since the girl in my chair jumped a mile.
“Sorry,” I said through my giggling as I got back to work. “So, I have to warn you. I’m a verbal processor, and there’s something I’ve gotta talk out. Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Have you ever had dick so good that you can’t ever forget it? Like, you’re obsessed with it?”
“I’m a lesbian.”
I rolled my eyes and traced the purple lines of the transfer on her thigh. “Oh, come on, killjoy. Voodoo pussy. Ever have one?”
She sighed wistfully. “Yeah. Her name was Brandie.”
“Ha! Mine’s Bodie. Maybe they’re gender twins. So, what’s the story with Brandie? Did you get over her VP? Ever forget it?”
“Nope. Never.”
I frowned. “Well, the problem for me is that my dick is temporary.”
“How come? Is he, like, from Austria or something?”
One of my brows rose. “That’s really specific, but no. He isn’t leaving the country.”
“So, what? Is he not into you?”
I laughed. “Oh, I’m pretty sure he’s into me. Like, all the way in, if you catch my drift.”
“Yeah, I think I get it,” she deadpanned. “So, what’s the problem? He married?”
“No, not married either. Just … I don’t know. I’m not really the settle-down type. I’ve dated more guys than I have lipstick, and I have a metric fuck-ton of lipstick. As in like a grand total of twenty-thousand-Sephora-points fuck-ton.”