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Authors: Anne Conley
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in the past.” The tattoo in question was a hideously scripted line up her thigh that read, “Les is more.” “Honestly, it was the last drunk decision I’ve ever made.”
“Why didn’t you have someone fix it? Or take it off? How hard would it be to add an ‘s’?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It just seemed too important of an example of horrible mistakes people can make to get rid of it. I needed the reminder. Now, I’m used to it, although it shocks other people from time to time, if I don’t remember to cover it.” Charlie hadn’t gotten to the point with Les that she would tell the story behind that tattoo. She couldn’t see herself ever getting there, honestly. So much of her life was on a need-to-know basis, and she had yet to meet anybody that needed to know everything .
Les sat there, staring at her leg, opening and closing his mouth. “You look like a fish out of water. Stop staring at me,” she finally snapped. “It’s not that bad.”
He snapped his jaw shut and got out of bed, mumbling something about a shower. Charlie pulled the covers off her bed, tossed them into the corner, and lay down with her own pillow and blanket, inhaling the scents of her own home.
In the shower, Les was remembering his friend Casey’s words to him when he’d been in one of his funks about Renae. “One of these days, you’ll meet a woman with your name written all over her.” She’d been using hyperbole or something, a figure of speech. But Les had found a woman that literally had his name tattooed into her leg. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it.
And good god, what a set of legs…
Charlie wasn’t a super tall woman—she was average height—but she was all legs and breasts. That was one thing Les had noticed when she’d come out of the bathroom wearing a tank top with no bra and a pair of ratty boxer shorts. Then he’d seen the leg art and nearly had a come apart.
He believed her story about a reminder of past mistakes, but she apparently didn’t see the irony in her mistake ending up being his name, tattooed permanently on her body.
He knew Casey had just been trying to make him feel better when she’d told him that. She wasn’t clairvoyant or anything, but seeing his name literally written on Charlie’s body had been what tipped him over the edge. He wanted her. He needed her. He loved her.
He knew he was doing it again—falling in love with a woman simply because she was available and attractive. But Charlie was different. He’d fallen for her before he’d ever even seen her. That had to say something, didn’t it? And she’d always kept these walls up, always had that edge to her, that don’t fuck with me vibe. But tonight, in the hotel, he’d seen a chink in her armor. More than a chink, actually. He’d thought she was about to completely fall apart, the wild look in her eyes tearing at his heart in a way he couldn’t describe.
When the door to the hotel room had swung shut, it had flipped a switch inside Charlie, and he’d seen a little girl standing in front of him. A vulnerable, absolutely fucking terrified little girl.
Something about his presence made her seem better, like he was a lifeline, and he did what she asked. Staring at him, her face devoid of color, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, she had demanded he talk to her. So he did.
He calmed her with the sound of his voice.
He’d left her alone out there while he came in to shower. Should he be singing now? Softly, he started crooning a little Sinatra, starting with I’ve Got You, and moving on to Witchcraft. He knew all of the standards, and after he’d washed his hair, he moved downward and on to some Etta James and I Just Want to Make Love to You. By the end of that, he figured she’d be calm and maybe have some idea of how he felt about her. He couldn’t just come out and tell her he was in love with her. He’d done that enough to know it scared off normal women, and something told him Charlie
“Why didn’t you have someone fix it? Or take it off? How hard would it be to add an ‘s’?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It just seemed too important of an example of horrible mistakes people can make to get rid of it. I needed the reminder. Now, I’m used to it, although it shocks other people from time to time, if I don’t remember to cover it.” Charlie hadn’t gotten to the point with Les that she would tell the story behind that tattoo. She couldn’t see herself ever getting there, honestly. So much of her life was on a need-to-know basis, and she had yet to meet anybody that needed to know everything .
Les sat there, staring at her leg, opening and closing his mouth. “You look like a fish out of water. Stop staring at me,” she finally snapped. “It’s not that bad.”
He snapped his jaw shut and got out of bed, mumbling something about a shower. Charlie pulled the covers off her bed, tossed them into the corner, and lay down with her own pillow and blanket, inhaling the scents of her own home.
In the shower, Les was remembering his friend Casey’s words to him when he’d been in one of his funks about Renae. “One of these days, you’ll meet a woman with your name written all over her.” She’d been using hyperbole or something, a figure of speech. But Les had found a woman that literally had his name tattooed into her leg. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it.
And good god, what a set of legs…
Charlie wasn’t a super tall woman—she was average height—but she was all legs and breasts. That was one thing Les had noticed when she’d come out of the bathroom wearing a tank top with no bra and a pair of ratty boxer shorts. Then he’d seen the leg art and nearly had a come apart.
He believed her story about a reminder of past mistakes, but she apparently didn’t see the irony in her mistake ending up being his name, tattooed permanently on her body.
He knew Casey had just been trying to make him feel better when she’d told him that. She wasn’t clairvoyant or anything, but seeing his name literally written on Charlie’s body had been what tipped him over the edge. He wanted her. He needed her. He loved her.
He knew he was doing it again—falling in love with a woman simply because she was available and attractive. But Charlie was different. He’d fallen for her before he’d ever even seen her. That had to say something, didn’t it? And she’d always kept these walls up, always had that edge to her, that don’t fuck with me vibe. But tonight, in the hotel, he’d seen a chink in her armor. More than a chink, actually. He’d thought she was about to completely fall apart, the wild look in her eyes tearing at his heart in a way he couldn’t describe.
When the door to the hotel room had swung shut, it had flipped a switch inside Charlie, and he’d seen a little girl standing in front of him. A vulnerable, absolutely fucking terrified little girl.
Something about his presence made her seem better, like he was a lifeline, and he did what she asked. Staring at him, her face devoid of color, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, she had demanded he talk to her. So he did.
He calmed her with the sound of his voice.
He’d left her alone out there while he came in to shower. Should he be singing now? Softly, he started crooning a little Sinatra, starting with I’ve Got You, and moving on to Witchcraft. He knew all of the standards, and after he’d washed his hair, he moved downward and on to some Etta James and I Just Want to Make Love to You. By the end of that, he figured she’d be calm and maybe have some idea of how he felt about her. He couldn’t just come out and tell her he was in love with her. He’d done that enough to know it scared off normal women, and something told him Charlie
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