CHAPTER FOUR
Even though my man Dean had been the one to give me the tattoo idea, I decided to take Rebecca along to accompany me during the procedure. It’s funny that I already had two tattoos and this one would also be simple cursive behind my shoulder, yet needles kind of freaked me out. I didn’t like to admit it, but hey, the whole becoming a new man thing had me spewing a lot of shit I used to keep to myself. Which was just what the world needed—an even more uncensored Dex Foray.
I didn’t know if I was just on a down day or if I was jonesing because I’d just quit smoking, but I was a pile of nerves as the tattoo artist did his work on me.
Rebecca noticed. “Does it hurt?” she asked as the first few words were completed.
I shook my head. It didn’t. Didn’t mean it was comfortable and it didn’t mean I liked it, but it definitely didn’t hurt.
She pursed her lips and looked me over inquisitively. “Do you mind if I get Perry’s address off of you?”
I flinched. Luckily the artist was fast enough to feel it coming and lifted the needle away just in time.
“What?” I asked.
“Are we okay?” said the tattoo artist.
I nodded quickly at him and the machine resumed its buzzing.
I lowered my voice. “Why do you want her address?”
“It’s not like that,” she said, taking a tube out of her bag that probably used to be a hamster and dotting sticky gloss on her lips. “Em and I might be in Portland soon and I was thinking—”
“Don’t you dare,” I warned her. “Don’t you dare go see her.”
She lowered her brows and snapped her purse shut with a deafening click. “Dex, please. She was my friend, too.”
“I’m your friend first.”
“You’re not going to go see her.”
“Obviously not, she hates my guts.”
“But you’re getting a tattoo because of her.”
“Well I’m not dragging the tattoo artist over there and getting it inked on her forehead, am I?”
“I just want to see how she’s doing. I’m worried about her.”
I wished she hadn’t said that, because I was worried as hell about her, too. Over the last week, I’d thought about Pippa’s message again and again, trying to figure out what it all meant. Why it was a warning. How Perry was doing. Just because I’d been mercifully free from seeing ghosts—despite no medication—it didn’t mean Perry was. I couldn’t imagine how she’d deal with it all alone. Even though, looking back, I hadn’t been much help—partially because of the medication, partially because I was afraid—I knew she had felt safer with me. Because I always believed her and I understood. Now who knew what was going on? I had little faith in her younger sister, Ada, and zero faith in her parents.
“Fine,” I said. “But I didn’t send you.”
“I know you didn’t. And I know you want to know how she is. I just want to make sure she’s fine and see if I can help in any way if she’s not.”
I nodded and gave her a stern look. “Watch out for her mom. She bites.”
Half an hour later, the tattoo was complete. I felt lighter already.