– SHOW ME YOUR TATS –

CHAPTER 3

Filled with unfounded optimism and a determination I've never felt before, my week goes by a little something like this . . .

Monday: I watch the street where she first walked past as often as I can, hoping things could be as simple as that. By lunchtime I still haven't seen her, so I hang around the bus stop on Third, scanning the crowds to see if she shows up again. She doesn't, and after thirty minutes my break is over, so I head back to the site, where the afternoon passes the same as my morning. I wander around downtown a bit after work, checking out the stores and looking into cafe and restaurant windows, but I don't see a head of blonde curls or colorfully-inked arms in any of them. Finally giving up around six, I go home, shower and jerk off, eat, and then go to bed ready to do it all again tomorrow.

Tuesday: I try to keep a close eye on Union Street again, but our work is more focused on the back of the building today so I can't check as often as I'd like. At noon I grab my lunch and walk around the area some more, deciding to head in the direction I first saw her come from. There's a couple of tattoo shops down this way, but after stepping inside and asking a few careful questions, I come out empty-handed from all of them. After work finds me starving and grouchy, so today I just head home and go about my normal nightly routine, hoping for better luck tomorrow.

Wednesday: Today it's more watching and walking when I can, this time in the north end of downtown. I figure maybe her passing by and getting on that bus was a fluke, a one-off from her normal routine, soI wander the streets and shops up on Pike and Pine. My search still comes up empty, though, and I feel my first shred of doubt toward this whole thing. It actually hurts like a stitch in my side, and I do my best to ignore it. In the afternoon, Lauren calls me to hook up later, to spend a little time breaking in her new bed, but I can't get her off the phone fast enough. While I'll admit a good romp would help ease some of the tension building in me, there's a fantasy growing in my head day by day, and I'd rather pump my own dick 'til it's raw than fulfill my dreams anywhere else.

Thursday: It rains like a motherfucker today, pouring so hard we're forced to do what work we can inside the building, and I don't get to see the street all day. Any chance for more recon is literally washed down the drain as well, so I grab some takeout on my way home and spend the evening drowning my frustration in beer. I'm too drunk to jerk it when I shower before bed; staying upright under the scalding-hot spray is about as much as I can handle. I manage to wash my hair and all the important bits anyway, and then pass the fuck out before I can abuse myself any further.

Friday: I have a wicked hangover and I'm grouchy as absolute fuck. The morning's a blur of hard labor that makes my head spin, and I spend my lunch hour basically kicking rocks as I meander around aimlessly. I'm too tired and miserable to pound the streets more after work, so I go home and fall into my normal routine, except I whack off twice in the shower. It's clear at this point that the strain is getting to me. If I'm going to do this right, I need to pull it together. The only other option is giving up, and I'm just not fucking ready for that yet.

Saturday: After a decent night's sleep and a big-ass breakfast, I'm sitting in my truck downtown and wondering where my feet should take me. I have more time than I know what to do with today, and I'm trying to think strategically about it and get my search back on track. Eventually I decide to focus on the waterfront. It's busy, but that could mean it's more likely she's here somewhere, and I like those odds compared to wandering anymore random roads. After three pretzels, a Slurpee, and six hours of meandering around and people watching, I've got nothing to show but sore feet and a headache, so I heave a dejected sigh and head home. My condo is quiet and empty, which is something I usually enjoy, but as I sit with a glass of water and just fucking rest, I swear I can feel the solitude creeping into my heart.

On Sunday, I buy a Dr. Pepper and sit in a little park I noticed while making my rounds a few days ago. I have more streets to walk, more shops to look into, but it's been a long, disappointing, physically-exhausting week, and I'm starting to give in to the idea that I'm fighting a losing battle.

I mean, really. Looking for one woman in a city of over 700,000? It's madness. Lunacy. It's likely I've officially cracked. Who does this shit?

Ahh, but there she is in my memory again. The fire in her eyes. A defiant smirk on her luscious pink lips as she sets her lasers to stun and fires. Yep. That's why I'm here. Here, there, and everywhere, if that's what it takes to track her down.

With a renewed determination, I chug the last of my soda and stand, but before I can head off again, my phone rings. I pull it from my pocket to look down at the screen, and am surprised to see it lit up with Edward's name.

"Yeah?"

"S'up, bro?" he says in his usual greeting. "Where you at?"

"Uhhh, some park down on . . . fuck, I don't even know," I reply, looking around me and trying to get my bearings. I've been walking grids and zigzags and circles all week, and it's all starting to look the same.

"You far from Mug n' Mic?" he asks, referencing a trendy downtown coffee house he frequents.

"No, not really." I've finally figured out where the fuck I am, and it's not a far walk from his haunt. "Why, what's up?"

"B's singing today. J and Ali are here, too. You should come by. It'd mean a lot to my girl if you were here."

Fucking hell, he's got me by the balls now, and I'd bet the left one that he knows it. "Pulling out the big guns just like that, huh?"

Edward laughs. "How's the search going?"

"Shitty."

"Could you use a break?"

"I guess."

"Well then get your ass over here. I'll buy you a slice of pie."

It's my turn to chuckle. "Yeah, all right. When does B go on?"

"Fifteen. You gonna make it?"

"Yep, see you in ten."

I hang up and stuff my phone back in my pocket, and after tossing my empty bottle in the nearest recycling can, I turn and begin the quick walk to Mud.

Edward's favorite coffee house is a bustling place, with a couple dozen tables and booths which are all filled to capacity at open-mic events. Even so, I spot him right away amidst the crowd—his flaming mop of hair and ever-growing collection of ink and steel stand out like a lightbulb in the dark. I make my way to where he's standing at the end of the counter, waiting for his order to come up.

We do a tricked-out bro shake when I reach him, a relic of our childhood that neither of us is willing to part with. My mood is ten times improved already, but then from the corner of my eye I spot Bella striding over, and my heart fills like it always does at the sight of her.

Bella and I grew up together; she was literally the girl next door. All smiles, clumsy elbows, and scraped-up knees, she was cute and funny and too sweet for words, and I started watching out for her before I even realized she might need it. The two of us were inseparable by the time we were old enough to sneak out our back doors, hiding and playing, laughing and talking, the innocence of childhood an unshakable bond between us. Even when we matured and I started seeing girls in a whole new light, my love and devotion to Bella remained pure—she was the little sister I never had.

To this day she has me wrapped around her little finger. Even all grown up with shiny mahogany hair, big doe eyes and curves exactly where she needs them, she owns a piece of my heart that wouldn't hesitate to take a bullet for her.

"Em!" she exclaims, wrapping her slender arms around me and squeezing tight. "I'm so glad you made it."

"I wouldn't have missed it," I say, hugging her in return and placing a kiss to the top of her head. I step back and grin, amused as I always am by her hippie-dippie attire. She looks straight out of the sixties in a floor-length, flowy orange skirt, funky patterned top, and an oversized brown cardigan. Her hair is long and loose, the waves tied at her temples with a thin leather cord. All she's missing are her usual yellow-tinted sunglasses, the round lenses a perfect replica of the era she loves. "Are you going up soon?"

"Actually, they're delayed," she replies with a sigh. "Some problem with the sound. No matter, though. It gives us time to sit and talk. From the little E has told me, you have quite a story to tell."

I laugh sheepishly and follow her to the table where Edward is now sitting with his younger brother Jasper, and J's lady, Alice. Jasper's a blond version of Edward; a good kid, subdued and serious but with a real daredevil streak. He makes his way as a professional dirt-biker, racing and winning top prize all over the country. Ali is his opposite, a little spitfire who I swear talks more than she breathes, but she's interesting and funny as fuck, too, so it's really not all that bad when she gets herself going.

Bella slides in beside Edward and he slings an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him and kissing her cheek. Though we grew up in the same large Seattle suburb, Edward went to a different school. I met him through our minor hockey league, just a couple of rowdy boys at ten, and we became pretty tight on the team. He and I didn't start hanging out much outside of sports until high school, which was when B and him were first officially introduced. You'd think with the sibling-like relationship Bella and I have that I'd be horrified she hooked up with one of my long-time friends, but as spiky and hard-edged as he may look from the outside, the truth is Edward's a total marshmallow to the core. He's sweet on her in every possible sense of the word, and I honestly couldn't have picked a better guy for her myself.

I take my own seat, where a slice of banana-cream pie with extra whipped cream awaits me. Edward was true to his word, and I would have expected nothing less. After we settle in and hellos are exchanged all around, Bella looks at me expectantly. My mouth is full of pie already, but I swallow the bite and then go ahead and let it out, from my own shithead behavior to the incredible woman's response and the rest. I'm all lit up just talking about her, my hands gesturing wildly as I describe every last detail I can recall.

Jasper and Alice don't have much help to offer when I'm done, but Bella looks thoughtful. "That sounds like Ro."

All the noise of the coffee shop dims as my entire focus zeroes in on what she's just said.

"What?" I gasp. "You know her?"

"Well, I can't say for sure, but that's who your description brought to mind," Bella replies.

"Ro?" Edward asks her. "You mean Rosalie Hale?" His face lights up with recognition. "Ohhh, yeah! Now that you mention it, it totally fits."

"What?" I repeat, looking back and forth between them incredulously. My shocked gaze turns to Edward and morphs into a glare. "I've been scouring the city all week and you know her?!"

"Hey, man," Edward replies, holding his palms up in defense. "I'm not friends with her or anything; I only know her by reputation and the few brief encounters we've had when I've popped in with B at her shop. If Bella hadn't said so, I never would have connected the dots. Besides, I don't recall getting much of a description before, other than her being a hot blonde with nice tits and having tattoos like the rest of us 'freaky people.'"

Fuck.

I scrub a hand over my face and take a couple of deep breaths to help cool my jets. I can't let my excitement run away with me yet. We don't actually know if this is the woman I've been searching for. I need more info first.

"Okay, so who is this Rosalie Hale?" I ask Bella. "What does she do? And where does she do it?"

"She's my tattoo artist," Bella replies. "She's amazing with plants and animals. She did the daisy chain around my calf, and she's working on the scene on my back. I see her about once a month."

I'm momentarily distracted and have to ask before I can move on, especially since it might be connected to the woman I've been searching for. "You're getting another tattoo? On your back?"

"Yeah, a big one," Bella says with a grin, then she slips off her cardigan and twists around in her seat to show me. She's wearing a thin little halter top with a low-cut back under her sweater, and I can see all the planes of her shoulders, torso, and waist, which, to my shock, are now almost fully covered in ink.

My eyes go wide as I take in the colorful scene. There's an elegant swan sitting serenely in a lake of pale blue water, surrounded by floating flower heads with more raining down all around. It's a fucking masterpiece. The detail in the work is incredible, with shading and highlights adding dimension that looks almost 3D—I could be looking at a painting on the wall of a fine art gallery.

"Damn, B," I exhale. "That's . . . wow."

"I know, right?" she says happily. "I'm beyond thrilled with her work. Which is good, because I'm about twenty-five hours and a few thousand dollars into it now."

I whistle lowly as Bella turns around and shrugs back into her heavy cardigan. "So this Ro—Rosalie—where does she work?"

"She owns Touch of Sass just south of downtown. Here, I'll send you a pin." Bella pulls out her phone and within a minute I hear the location ding on mine. "The shop's closed on Sundays and Mondays," she continues, "but you could go check it out on Tuesday. I think they open at one."

That's two fucking days from now, and while having to wait rather than run out the door right this very second sucks beyond measure, I can't believe this is happening. After this fucked-up week and all my stumbling around the city like a lost little lamb, this could be it. I might actually find this woman. My pulse has sped up; in fact I'm feeling a little jittery at the prospect of . . . what? I don't even know what I'm going to do if this does turn out to be her, but I fear at this point it might be something crazy.

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