“Thanks, man. Listen, I’m going to grab the stencil from the sketch if you guys want to go back. Room 2.” He handed over a clipboard of the requisite ‘No, I won’t sue you if I spell something wrong’ paperwork.

Aldo hesitated, holding his breath and hoping. Gloria gave him another one of those long looks while she fiddled with the pen. “Okay. I guess you can come back with me.”

He followed her behind the counter and down the bright hallway. There were art prints, black and white shots of tattooed skin on the walls. Tasteful, unique. Aldo didn’t see a single rose tramp stamp or cartoony dragon-festooned bicep. He felt the familiar tickle, the desire for another design, and wondered what Gloria had chosen for her own stunning skin.

Gloria bypassed a room that was decked out with red walls and black leather furniture and stepped into one with cool blue paint and a white dentist-style chair. There was music in here, soft and spa-like. It was a small space but well-organized.

She eyed the chair and straightened her shoulders. When she began unbuttoning her blouse, Aldo felt a strangled noise rise out of his throat. This was not how he’d imagined his first time seeing Gloria undress. He turned around abruptly to face the wall.

Her soft laugh had him peeking over his shoulder. She was wearing a thin-strapped camisole under her shirt, and he relaxed. But it was short-lived. “Where are you getting it?” he asked, his voice rough, picturing her sprawled out on the chair while Curtis worked on breasts Aldo hadn’t been lucky enough to be invited to see yet.

She slid onto the chair and tapped the inside of her arm. “Here.”

There was a scar there that he hadn’t noticed before. An old one, silvered with age. Without thinking, he took her elbow and gently turned it to get a better look. Thin and jagged, it raced up the inside of her arm for three inches, and he wondered what had caused it. Already knowing who had caused it.

“I wanted a permanent mark that I chose,” she said softly.

Aldo’s chest swelled with pride and repressed rage. He brushed his thumb over the scar.

“I wanted to take something ugly and make it beautiful,” she said.

“There isn’t anything on or about you that’s ugly, Gloria.”

She let out a breath. “So, how bad is it going to hurt, Mr. Tattoos All Over My Body?”

“Not all over,” he teased. “With everything you’ve been through? Walk in the park,” he promised her.

She nodded, looking slightly less nervous. “Good. Okay. I can totally do this.”

Aldo plopped down on the second rolling stool and wheeled it over to her chair. “I’ll hold your hand,” he offered.

She laced her fingers with his. “This is the weirdest first date.”

“I’ll take you out to dinner after,” he offered.