“Oh, Michael,” Nikki breathed. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
I knew Nikki was catholic.
She went to church religiously every Sunday.
In fact, as a way to get closer to her, I’d started going to conversion classes, and attending Sunday mass at the very church that she went to just so I could breach some of the gap between her and me.
The fact that abortion would never be uttered from her lips really held great appeal to me.
Because abortion had been a determining factor in how I’d live my life from the moment I turned twenty three.
Even now, twelve years later, I can still remember what that baby looked like.
I looked at it every day in the mirror.
“It’s gory. And not a good story,” I warned her.
She pressed further into my arms, and said what I needed to hear. “Tell me.”
So I did.
“I was asked if I wanted to, and since I’d never witnessed one before, I thought ‘sure, why not.’ Well, the why not became a ‘what the hell have I done’ pretty fuckin’ quickly. I’d heard about abortions during one of the many lectures. Knew the basics of it. So I go in there, and there’s this woman already on the table with her legs high and wide in the air.” I cleared my throat. “She was asleep, and it was then I realized that the baby they were doing the abortion on was a viable fetus, but the mother just didn’t want her.”
“I watched as they hooked the vacuum up, maneuvered the small hose up her vagina, and started to suck away.” I coughed. “Instantly, there was blood, and that’s about when I turned around and refused to watch anymore. I’d just witnessed a child murdered right in front of my eyes.”
“God,” she breathed, a sob catching in her throat.
“That was the first tattoo I got,” I said, grabbing her hand with my own and moving it to rest over my heart. “That’s when I met Peek.”
She moved away, placing distance that I didn’t want between us, between us, and held out her hand. “Show me your Peek.”
And that’s what I did.
Hopping off the truck’s tailgate, I made my way inside, hand in hand, with Nikki.
The first person to greet us at the front counter was Alison, the woman that’d been working the front desk for as long as I could remember.
She was also Peek’s old lady.
Peek was a member of an unofficial motorcycle club, and one of the grumpiest men in the entire world.
Yet, he respected a man who could speak his language. And Peek’s language was the art of tattoos, and I had a lot of tattoos.
“Mikey!” Alison said happily. “You ready to get that blank spot on your back filled in?”
Before I could answer, Nikki spoke up.
“Actually, he’s bringing me here to get my first tattoo!” Nikki said excitedly, as if we’d actually planned for that to happen.
When I went to say something, she placed her hand over my mouth and shook her head.
“Really? Mikey’s never brought anyone here before! I’m so excited to meet you! You’re Nikki, right?” Alison asked with a happy laugh.
Nikki turned curious eyes to me before returning her attention to Alison.
“Yeah, I’m Nikki. I hope you’ve heard good things,” she said honestly.
I knew I should stop this before it went any further, but I decided to let it be. What was said was said, and I didn’t have anything to hide.
Nikki would find out soon enough what I’d done even without Alison’s help.
Alison smiled. “Oh yeah. Michael told us all about you when Peek was doing the piece on his back.”
Nikki blinked and turned to me, but Alison didn’t notice. She was too busy going on and on about all that I’d said that night a year and a half ago.
The night I’d been drunk out of my mind.
“What’d you do?” She asked warily.
I shrugged and turned around, giving her my back.
“Right above my belt,” I told her.
Slowly I felt my shirt lifted, and then she gasped.
I knew what she saw.
It was kind of hard to miss.
“You have my name tattooed on your ass!” She squealed.
I snorted and turned around, giving her a dry look.
“It’s on my waist, not my ass. I don’t have anything on my ass. I can always get one if you want,” I offered suggestively.
She wiggled her fingers at me.
“Turn back around,” she said. “I wasn’t done looking.”
I did as I was told, and felt her tracing the letters of her name that was inked into my flesh with her fingers.
“Why?” She asked softly.
I shrugged.
“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” I said lamely.
She laughed, making my heart soar.
“I’ve heard of women putting their man’s name right there, so he can, ya know, see it when he does her from, ya know, behind. But I’ve never seen a man do it,” she tittered.
I let my shirt drop and turned back around to see her eyes now fixated on my crotch, and I barely resisted the urge to cover it with my hand.
“So,” I said teasingly. “What are you getting on that virgin skin of yours, Nik?”
We’d talked about it once, a lifetime ago, but times changed. As did opinions.
Nikki, though, was predictable, proving to me she hadn’t changed a bit.
“Have you seen those huge eyed stuffed animal Ty Beanie Babies?” She asked Alison.
Alison nodded. “Yeah, who hasn’t?”
Nikki smiled.
“That’s what I want.”
I shook my head.
That woman.
On our first date together, I’d won her one from one of those machines where you used the claw to grab the stuffed animal out of the overpriced machine.
She’d fallen in love with it, and I’d started calling her ‘Owl’ later that night as I saw the resemblance between the owl’s eyes and Nikki’s.
When she’d joked that she was going to get a tattoo of the owl, I’d called her on it, and we’d made a bet that she wouldn’t.
But then, as time went on, we’d forgotten about it.
Then things had gone down, and suddenly there was no more Nikki and Michael.
Well, I’d forgotten about it.
Nikki, apparently, had not.
“Do you have a specific one you had in mind?” Alison asked.
Nikki smiled and dug into her bottomless pit of a purse for her phone, unearthing it after emptying not only her wallet, keys, and a makeup bag, but also a pair of flip flops, onto the counter.
I could do nothing but shake my head.
“That woman.”
“Oh!” Alison said excitedly. “I love it!”
Alison was a forty four year old woman with graying blonde hair, but right then, with the way she was giggling like a teenage girl, she could’ve passed for one of the young girls that Peek had just shown out the door.
“What are you squealin’ about, woman? You know how that hurts me ears,” Peek growled teasingly.
Peek was fourth generation Irish.
He had a thick accent, but when he was talking to his wife, the accent got thicker and thicker as he crooned his sweet words to her. Or yelled at her.
“How ye doin’, boyo?” Peek asked slapping me on the shoulder with his large hand.
Peek was a six foot four inch powerhouse that towered over my six foot two frame.
I wasn’t skinny by any means.
I had muscle on top of muscle.
Peek, on the other hand, was a bull where the rest of us were most definitely not.
He was a volunteer firefighter for the Uncertain, Texas Fire Department as needed, and he worked at his tattoo parlor in Kilgore, Uncertain, and Gun Barrell City on a rotating shift. He was also a member, and president, of the Uncertain Saint’s MC.
Peek had started the MC a long time ago after the death of his and Alison’s one and only son.
Apparently it’d been due to drugs, but I’d never broached the subject any further than what he was willing to give.
I’d met him that first night, twelve years ago, and he’d helped me cope with my decision to leave medicine, as well as my parent’s outrage over the fact.
He’d also introduced me to the Chief of Police, Chief Rhodes, on my next shore leave.
We’d hit it off, and I’d found myself a job with Kilgore Police Department the minute my feet met even earth once again.