“Do you want anything?” I asked her when the cashier handed me a bottle of water.

“No, I’m good.” She waved me off and helped Sasha with the cheese cup that started to fumble in her hands.

I paid for the food and we followed behind the two little girls who wanted to sit at the fountain. Taking over a bench, we took a load off and let the kids enjoy their treat.

“Him giving you money is good. Right?” I asked while chewing a bite I’d snagged off Sophie’s pretzel.

“Yeah, I guess. He probably felt guilty after asking me to have Sasha’s class changed this year since he doesn’t want her in the same class as his other daughter.”

I choked on my water before saying in disbelief, “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was.” She looked so sad and defeated at the memory of the man she’d once loved and made a child with acting like such an unloving prick.

“He does realize that as long as they are in the same school there is a very real chance they’ll figure out who each other is, right? Especially once they get to middle school or high school.”

She sighed in resignation. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he asks me to switch districts. He already tried to get me to change schools and I refused. I work damn hard for her to live in a nice area and go to a good school. I’ll be damned if he tries to keep Sasha a dirty little secret forever.”

“At least he’s in her life. Kevin hasn’t even written to Sophie since he went to jail.”

“Men,” she muttered in disgust. “Can’t live with ‘em and can’t live without ‘em. Although, with my stock in batteries, I’m learning I don’t need one as frequently.”

“You’re bad,” I said in between laughs.

When the girls were done with their treats, we strolled down the last wing that we had to conquer of the large mall.

The shopping mecca was definitely more of an experience than it was a mall. It was four stories high, with nearly four hundred businesses that ranged from restaurants to entertainment options like go-karts and all the way up to high-end businesses like a Coach store. It was an almost two-hour drive from where we lived, but well worth it if you had money to spend. And thanks to my recent night with Marx, I had quite a bit to splurge with.

“Oh look!” Candy yelled excitedly, her hand swatting my arm until she got my attention.

“What?”

“It’s that tattoo shop that’s on television. With the kick-ass Cuban artist who has that smoldering look. What’s his name? Juan?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t have cable.”

She gasped at that and turned wide, incredulous eyes on me. “How can you not have cable?”

“It costs money.” I shrugged.

“Bitch! You’ve been making decent money. Surely you can afford cable.”

“I could, but I don’t. I’m saving up for a house.”

“Oh, that’s right,” she mumbled. “I know! Let’s get tattoos!”

“Uh… no.” The thought of needles and my body was not a pleasant one. Not only did I not want to put myself through the pain, but if you were going to mark your body with something it needed to have meaning. A spur of the moment tattoo was not that.

“Come on,” she cajoled. “It’ll be fun.”

“What about the girls?”

“They can color or something.”

“I doubt they have crayons.” I eyed the blacked-out windows dubiously, thinking it was the last place children should be.

“We’ll never know if we don’t ask.” She dragged me by my arm into the shop.

While Candy went straight to the desk, I spun around, taking the place in. Every inch of wall space was covered in art that ranged from flash designs all the way up to extremely intricate pieces that could probably hang in a museum.

My eyes roamed from piece to piece, in complete awe of the beauty of some of them. The amount of creativity in a few of the designs was astounding. One, in particular, had me mesmerized—three-dimensional butterflies dancing around a very lifelike cherry blossom. Each object in the tattoo was drawn so perfectly and was so breathtakingly beautiful, my hand reached out and my fingers ran over them, expecting them to be real.

Tears filled my eyes and my throat constricted at the words weaved around the picture:

Just when the caterpillar thought its world was over, it became a butterfly.

It couldn’t be more perfect than if someone had specifically drawn it with me in mind.

“They said they have some sketch paper and pencils the kids can use. And get this! Juan had a cancelation! He’s available!” Candy squealed in delight, oblivious to the poignant moment I was having courtesy of the picture on the wall.

A tear slid out of my eye and down my cheek when I turned to look at her. Her smile immediately turned to a frown and she grabbed my hand in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I found my tattoo,” I whispered. My chin quivered as I attempted to keep from bawling in the middle of a tattoo parlor.

“Which one?”

I pointed at the butterflies and she made a choking noise when she saw it. Her hands flew to her mouth and tears filled her eyes. “Aww, A. It’s perfect. You have to get it.”

“Ladies,” came from behind us in a deep, raspy voice with a Latin accent. “I hear one of you is getting a tattoo today.”

We both turned and our jaws dropped at the amazingly sexy man standing in front of us. He was only a few inches taller than me with jet-black hair and green eyes. He had a good few days’ worth of stubble covering his face. Paired with his faded jeans and buttoned-up flannel, it made him look like a bad boy. He was in a word… yummy.

“Hi,” Candy breathed, her body swaying towards him. I was afraid she was going to fall over if she wasn’t careful.

He gave her a smirk that said he knew exactly how he affected her.

“I think she wanted a tattoo,” I told him while subtly trying to sweep away the last of the moisture on my cheeks.

“No!” Candy said on a rush. “She wants that tattoo.”

Juan looked over my shoulder at the picture she was pointing to and his smirk turned into a grin. “That’s my drawing.”

“It is? It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you. I have yet to ink it on anyone,” he informed me.

“How could no one want it?” I asked in disbelief.

“I didn’t say no one wanted it. I just haven’t found the right canvas for it yet.”

“Oh,” I mumbled in disappointment. I didn’t want a tattoo if I couldn’t have that one. Like I said, it needed to be important to have it with you for life. A perfect depiction of the metamorphosis I found myself going through was the one thing that fit that bill. For I was just like the little caterpillar who realized that the trials I was experiencing weren’t the end of the world. They only made me stronger and more beautiful.

“Lift your shirt and turn around,” he oddly requested.

“I’m not so sure—”

“I need to see what I’m working with,” he assured me.

“Oh, right.” My spirits lifted that he might still agree to tattoo me. I spun around and lifted my t-shirt to my shoulder.

His finger trailed lightly over the right side of my back, giving me chills. It felt like an eternity before he finally spoke.

“I charge three hundred per hour. This is a six-hour piece.”

My mind quickly did the math and I thought, Holy shit! That was a lot of money. It would put a dent in my housing fund. I chewed on my lip and debated the merits of using the money so foolishly.

“I’ll tell you what.” Juan’s face was soft as he looked at me. “That design has been hanging on a wall for five years and until today I had yet to find someone I wanted to ink it on. I’ll do it for a flat grand. Take it or leave it.”

“Take it,” Candy whispered, her shoulder nudging mine.

“Deal.” My heart raced with both excitement and fear at getting inked for the first time. “Oh wait. What about the kids?”

“I’ll take them to a movie and dinner. If we still have time to kill, we’ll go to the arcade. It’s not every day someone of Juan’s caliber is available on demand for a killer tattoo. Don’t worry about anything but sitting still for our man here.” Her hand patted his arm, her fingers squeezing his bicep not so subtly.