He chuckled. “Yeah, I mean, that makes it completely impersonal.”
I rolled my eyes. “Ugh, Joel. You’re such a drama queen.”
He laughed extra loud at that.
I pushed off the counter and winked at him. “I’ll tell Annika you said hi.”
“You do that.”
The bell dinged as I left and turned into the door right next to the shop, climbing two flights to get to the control room. Joel and Annika’s apartment was on the second floor, and the third was rented out by the network to set up as an on-site base of operations. The door was unlocked, and I walked through the monitor room, which was usually bustling with PAs and producers, but it was relatively empty since we hadn’t really started rolling yet.
Annika was back in the green screen room, waiting for me with a cameraman. She slipped off her director’s chair and glided over to me, smiling.
I swear to God, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. If Joel were a dark, grumbly bear, Annika was like a porcelain doll — all icy-blue eyes and ruby-red lips and long legs, her hair blonde and skin like milk.
“Penny,” she said, cheerily — at least for her. She wasn’t overly emotive.
“Hey, Annika,” I answered. “Look at you, working that skirt.”
I gestured to her black and white business clothes, which sounded nerdier than it was. Her clothes were immaculately cut, the lines clean and simple and modern and flattering. She looked straight off a runway.
She laughed. “I learned this summer that casual wear and free time don’t suit me.”
“I swear, I almost passed out when you came into the shop in leggings a couple of weeks ago.”
“If a pipe hadn’t burst, you’d never have seen it.”
I chuckled and took my seat across from hers as a PA entered the room and miked me.
Annika sat and flipped through the sheets on her clipboard. “So, we’re pretty basic today, just a little bit of catch-up. What have you been working on, how’s the shop, how’s life — that sort of stuff.”
“Cool,” I said, settling back into my seat as the camera started rolling.
Annika smiled. “All right, let’s start easy. What’s the weirdest tattoo you’ve done since we saw you last?”
“Well, weird’s relative, right? Like, you’d think it was super crazy to get a tattoo of a gun, but I have two on my stomach, pointing down to my I-can’t-say-that-on-network-television.”
She laughed. “That’s true. That’s the whole point of a tattoo, right? That it means something to you. Lessons I learned from your boss.”
“He’s a smart dude. But to answer your question, I did a Care Bear tattoo on the back of a girl’s calf that made me salute her bravery. Everybody has their thing,” I said with a shrug.
“Okay, favorite piece you did?”
I thought about it and crossed my legs. “Damn, that’s a hard one. But I did one on Veronica’s arm that’s two skeletons embracing, like one is clutching the other to its chest. I love being able to work with nothing but black ink, no color, just that ink and the negative space of skin to tell a story.”
Annika was still smiling, her lips wide and red and perfect. “I love to hear you guys talk about your work. Sometimes I just listen to Joel geek out about art and tattoos with my head propped on my hand and my heart all fluttery.” She sighed and glanced down at her clipboard. “So, what have you been up to this summer?”
“Nothing much. We’ve mostly been working on Ramona’s wedding, but everything’s been done for a few weeks, so now it’s just a matter of waiting.”
“What’s left to come?”
I ticked everything off on my fingers. “Dress fittings tomorrow. Bachelorette party in a few days. Then it’s time to get the lovebirds hitched.”
“You make it sound so easy.” She looked a little skeptical.
I chuckled. “Yep, and you’re next. But you were built for wedding planning. I bet you have spreadsheets out the wang. Color-coded. With, like, fourteen tabs.”
“At least I’m consistent enough to be predictable,” she said on a laugh. “So tell me about the bachelorette party.”
“Oh, that’s not fit for censored television. Let’s just say, there will be debauchery and plastic penis accoutrements.”
She wrinkled her nose.
I pointed at her. “You’re participating. No pussing out, dude.”
Annika dodged the implication and smiled. “Have a date for the wedding?”
I waved a hand. “Nah, I’ll just go stag.”
Her smile fell. “You don’t have anyone to bring? You always seem to have guys on your heel. Surely one of them looks good in a suit. Your taste in men is impeccable.”
“Thank you,” I said with a nod of my head, but I squirmed a little. “I dunno. Weddings are a big deal. Like, I’ll have pictures from this wedding on my fridge until I’ve got tennis balls on the feet of my walker. Plus, there’s love in the air at those things. I wouldn’t want to catch something.”
She laughed. “So you’re not seeing anyone?”
I shrugged, still feeling squirmy. “I’m always seeing someone,” I answered lightly.
“Who’s the current guy?”
That stupid smile crept onto my face again. “Oh, just a guy,” I lied, not wanting to talk about him on camera.
When things fell apart, I’d have to look back on any admissions without regrets. My stomach sank at the thought, but I put a lifejacket on that motherfucker, and it perked back up.
“Favorite thing about the guy?”
“His dick,” I said without hesitation, knowing she’d have to cut the whole segment.
She burst out laughing, which was especially funny for her — she was a self-contained creature. But when she let loose, it was like a unicorn galloping across a rainbow.
“Well, I hope you change your mind about inviting Mr. Dick Guy to the wedding.”
I laughed. “Oh my God. That’s going to be my new name for him. Mr. Richard Guy.”
“I’d love to meet the man who has you so into him that you won’t kiss and tell.” One of her brows was up, teasing me.
“Oh, come on. I don’t always kiss and tell.”
She gave me a look.
“Fine,” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “I just want to keep this one to myself for a minute. Is that so wrong?”
“Not at all. I’m intrigued, that’s all.”
At that, I smiled. “You and me both.”
9
OPERATION: PENNY JAR
Bodie
The next afternoon, I walked down the sidewalk toward the tattoo parlor where Penny worked, the sun shining on my skin, the birds chirping in my ears, and the same smile plastered on my face that had been there for a week.
Operation: Penny Jar had been a success. So far at least.
I’d seen her every day since we ran into each other at the ice cream shop. She’d knocked me out then, and just when I’d thought it couldn’t get better with her, she’d proven me wrong.