“Five,” she answered without hesitation.
I suddenly wanted to kill five men I’d never met.
“That’s not that bad,” I said.
“It is what it is, right?”
“Yeah,” I said, still a little jealous, which was fucked-up.
Gia hesitated before she asked. “Have you ever been in love?”
She was definitely hitting me with all the big questions tonight.
There was only one relationship in my life that ever came close to that. Since we seemed to be opening up tonight, I decided to tell her a story.
“The closest I ever came was with a girl named Beth. She was my best friend growing up. Her father was actually like the closest thing I had to a dad. His name is Pat. He was super cool and I used to go to him for advice about…you know, dude stuff. Shaving and shit. Anyway, they lived only a few doors down from us.”
“What did she look like?”
“She had brown hair, not as dark as yours, though. She was pretty. She actually wore glasses like you sometimes. We were close. But I never looked at her in a sexual way—until we were about seventeen.”
She swallowed. “Then what happened?”
“I wish I knew what the turning point was. I guess it was just teenage hormones doing their thing. I didn’t really think anything like that would ever happen with her. I never wanted to go there.
Anyway, one night…it did…we ended up having sex, and it really put a strain on our relationship.”
Gia sighed. “Wow.”
“There was no way I was ready for anything serious. She wanted more after that, and I just couldn’t commit to anything that young. But I really did care about her. And I always regretted hurting her.
We were kids. And she was practically family. Things were really never the same after that happened.”
“Where is she today?”
“After we graduated from high school, her father ended up getting a job out in Arizona. When her parents and brother moved out there, she followed them even though she was old enough to stay out here on her own if she really wanted to. I think if I’d begged her to stay, she would have. But like I said, I wasn’t ready for that. So, she moved.”
“Do you ever talk to her anymore?”
“We’ve kept in touch. She’s actually married now with a kid. So, everything worked out the way it was supposed to.”
“I bet she still fantasizes about you.” She smiled.
I pulled her into me. “Oh yeah? What makes you think that?”
“Because I couldn’t imagine having sex with you and having to go back to being just friends.”
“Well, you won’t have to worry about that. I have no interest in only being friends with you ever again. Because my intentions are completely impure when it comes to you, and I don’t anticipate that ever changing.” I laughed.
She ran her fingers through my hair then posed another question, one that threw me for a loop a little.
“Do you believe in God?”
My feelings on that were complex. I did my best to offer an explanation of how I saw things when it came to spirituality.
“Yes. I do. Well, at least, I believe there’s something powerful that watches over all of us. But the only thing that’s certain to me is that we weren’t meant to know everything. Anyone who claims to understand exactly how this complex universe works is a fucking liar. Or they’re believing what they want to. We all just have to do our best with what knowledge we have and have a little bit of blind faith. We get signs every day that tell us whether we’re on the right path. People and opportunities are placed before us. You know that feeling you get when something feels truly right in life? Like all the stars finally aligned? That trust you feel that the universe has sent you exactly what you need—even if you didn’t realize you needed it?
“Yes.”
“Well, that to me is God.”
She stayed quiet, soaking in my answer. For some reason, since we were being open, I had the urge to share something with her that I hadn’t shared with anyone other than my mother.
I nudged her up. “Can I show you something?”
“Yeah.”
With our hands locked together, I led her to a spare room inside at the back of my house. It was where I housed my own artwork along with all of my tattoo equipment that I never parted with. I still dabbled in design, mainly word of mouth stuff, friends who wanted new ink.
She walked around, gazing at the paintings on the wall.
“I made these.”
“These…are yours?”
I nodded.
It wasn’t that I was ashamed of what I’d created, but these weren’t the type of images you flaunted in the middle of your living room. From the time I was a teenager, I’d had an obsession with painting beautiful women…but not just any women—sexy, sensual women with wings. I don’t know if you could consider them fantasy angels or fairies. But they all had a few things in common, long hair, sexy, voluptuous bodies, piercing eyes—and wings. Some were naked. Others were clothed. I could
totally see how the average woman might find these images creepy, but I suspected that Gia wouldn’t.
I knew she was open-minded and would find the artistic value in them.
“I don’t even know why I’m showing you these,” I said. “You seemed so interested in my mother’s art. Obviously, these are a lot different than…sunsets.”
“Yeah, they are. They’re absolutely stunning—breathtaking.” She stopped in front of one of the darker images, a demonic-looking girl with black wings and horns. “What made you decide to start making these?”
Shrugging, I said, “I wish I knew. I just find them to be beautiful and mysterious. I haven’t actually created one in a few years, though. These are all pretty old. And you’ll notice, each one is slightly unfinished. It’s like I would get hung up on making it perfect then move on to the next one out of frustration.”
She smiled. “I almost feel jealous of them. That’s how beautiful they are. Is that strange?”
Well, I’d take that as a compliment.
I chuckled. “They don’t compare to you. They’re fantasy. All the things that make them beautiful…the strength they seem to convey… that’s all brought to life whenever I look at you, whenever I’m with you.”
Gia looked like she was trying to fend off tears again. Was it something I said?
She walked over to where I kept all of my ink supplies.
“Oh my God. Is this where you tattoo people?”
“I rented space in a shop back when I was doing it for a living. But I took all my stuff with me. So, I have a little setup here.”
In the corner of the room, I had a table along with various pieces of equipment: a steam pressure autoclave, needle bar setups, and several sealed containers to keep things sterile.
“Can I ask you something?” she said.
“Shoot.”
“Would you do anything for me?” She reached up and wrapped her arms around my neck.
Leaning down, I tasted her lips then said, “Pretty sure I would, yeah. Unless you said you wanted me to let you fuck another dude while I watched. That’s a hard limit. I don’t share.”
“Well, then this request will seem like nothing compared to that.”
“What is it?”
“Will you draw something small on my body tonight? I want you to choose where it goes and what it is. Not a permanent tattoo or anything—just your artwork on my body. I want something created by you just for me.
I expelled a breath. She knew how I felt about actually tattooing her, that I’d refused to do it. She’d asked me to before, and I’d said no. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to put my mark on her. I just didn’t want her to regret altering her perfect body if she wasn’t absolutely sure about it. So, this seemed harmless.
“You really want me to draw on your skin?”
“I really want you to. Yes…please.”
The urgency in her request was odd, but at the same time, the prospect of getting to mark her—albeit temporarily—with something of my choice excited me.
“You’re a pain in the ass,” I teased.