"Come on, I saved your life. You have to do what I say," said Prudence.

"Well," I paused. "I'm not a idiot or some primitive guy riddled with mythical concepts so I don't buy that crap."

"You're so hard edged. Lighten up. It'll be fun."

My hands were still on the steering wheel when she leaned over and placed her right hand on my inner thigh. I lightened up while well...you know. She got out and we went into to the slimy parlor.

"How about a cherry?"

"I don't think so." I turned the pages of the tattoo man's, Harvey, resume. They were all beautiful, but when I imagined them on me I quivered. Like the overdone snake or the skull and crossbones. I don't think so.

Prudence kept spouting her ideas. "A rose, a lit candle, Mom, my name, a rainbow..."

And then I saw it, I saw what I wanted and I knew...a lighthouse at the end of a jetty. Like when my father and I would walk out in Avon and pick up the starfish I took for dead, but my father said that's just the way they were. I pointed at the photo, "Can you put a tiny starfish in there?"

"Absolutely. Where?"

"On his ass." Prudence laughed and snorted. I thought if she lets me take her virginity, she won't laugh like that anymore.

I took his question seriously and clearly Harvey had heard these sophomoric comments before and had long ago dispensed his ability for obligatory laughter.

He waited patiently for my answer. "On my left shoulder."

"That's where I would have suggested," he mumbled.

"Really."

"Yup. Wrinkles the least when you get old." He cleared his throat. "I don't got time to finish today, but we can start. You'll have to come back tomorrow."

It hurt like hell.

******

I sat on her couch watching "Access Hollywood." I waited for Prudence. She was out getting Koo Koo Roo Chicken. I love that shit. I sure do curse more with her, but I like it's liberating, freeing tone. Either that or just a stupid rationale to pretend I'm a kid again. But what's wrong with that? What about that idea that age is a frame of mind? That's what I want to believe. I've always wanted a tattoo. Why the hell not?

"Hey." She came in smelling of chicken and wearing a nose ring.

"When did you get that?"

"I always had it, but I didn't like to wear it around my dad."

"Afraid HE would disapprove?"

"I just didn't want to hear shit about it, okay?"

"Sorry."

"I'm going to go see him I think."

"I'd go with you, but maybe that's not such a good idea."

"No, I don't think so."

I put my hands on her head and slid them down to her chin. I could see her sweetness that way. I trapped her and she looked at me to take care of her. I wanted to take care of her and I knew I could. I kissed her as my hands moved down her waist and I felt perfection. I missed this. I loved this. Her sweet palms rubbed my chest while her black eyes performed their duty and convinced me I loved her. I did. I loved her.

The phone rang and her machine answered. We rubbed against each other. The voice on the machine was Ned. "Mike, I'm sorry to call you here, but I've got to talk to you." She tried to step away, but I pulled her back. "I got the number from...." I threw an empty Molson bottle, knocking the machine off the table.

"Hey, you broke my machine."

"Shsh. Do you want me?" I asked.

She looked down at the ground and my heart sunk. But when she looked up, her blushing face could not be hide behind the layers of white cake make-up. She was being brave. "Yes," she mumbled.