by Lauren Rowe
Josh grins and looks at Will. “Barbed wire on your bicep—or a tribal band, unless you’re an Islander. Stubborn Kat was very specific about that. You got either of those, man?”
“Fuck no. I agree with Stubborn Kat on both. And yet, right now, I wish so bad I had both so I could pull up my sleeve and see the look on her face.”
Everyone laughs at the thought, even me.
“Me, too,” Josh says, squeezing my hand. “I never thought I’d be bummed not to have barbed wire.”
“Hey, it’s never too late, Faraday,” Reed says, laughing. “We’re in Vegas, after all.”
“There you go again, Reed,” Josh says. “Trying to get me inked with something stupid.” He sips his drink. “Well, lucky for me, I’m not gonna get drunk tonight, or I’d probably do it.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Henn says. “Barbed wire would be too stupid even for you, Josh.”
“Bite your tongue,” Josh says. “There’s no such thing as a tattoo that’s ‘too stupid’ for Josh Faraday—not if you ply me with enough alcohol and double-dare me, anyway.”
“Oh, we know, Mr. ‘Welcome to the Gun Show,’” Reed says.
Josh, Henn, and Reed burst out laughing.
“‘I double-dare you,’” Reed says, apparently re-enacting something—and all three guys laugh again, shaking their heads.
“You’re a Neanderthal, Josh,” Henn says.
Josh sips his drink happily. “I really am.”
“I take it you’ve got a tattoo that says ‘Welcome to the Gun Show’?” Will asks, incredulous.
Josh nods.
“On your arms, presumably?”
Josh nods again.
“Oh shit. Horrible. That’s gotta be on Kat’s list, too, right? Please tell me it is. That’s gotta be double points.”
Josh shakes his head. “Surprisingly, not on the list. Too horrible to even mention, I suppose. Right, Kat? Some tattoos are too stupid to make the list?”
My face is hot. “Please make it stop,” I say.
Josh squeezes my hand and kisses the side of my head. “All in good fun, baby,” he whispers to me. “This is how we show we like you.” He squeezes my hand again.
“Well, dude, aren’t you gonna show me?” Will says.
“Show him,” Reed says.
Josh shrugs, unbuttons his shirt, and pulls it down off his shoulders, revealing his muscled, tattooed chest and the tops of his gorgeous arms—and the sight of him makes my crotch instantly start filling with blood.
Josh bends his arms behind his head and flexes and everyone at the table bursts into laughter at the sight of the tattoos on the undersides of his biceps.
“Welcome to... the Gun Show,” Reed says, pointing out Josh’s tattoos like he’s Vanna White on Wheel of Fortune. “That was the night I learned Josh Faraday will do literally anything to get a laugh.”
I’ve gone back into hiding behind my hands, partly because the sight of Josh baring his body in this restaurant is making me want to jump his bones and partly because I feel like I’m gonna barf.
“Hell yeah, I will. Life’s too short. Hey, Kat. Are you gonna come out from hiding any time soon?” Josh asks. “Come on, babe, join the party. We’re all friends here. Nobody’s mad at you. It’s all in good fun. It’s just what friends do with friends—they torture them.”
I slowly come out from under my arms like a turtle. “You guys, when I said all that stuff about prohibited tattoos and social suicide, I was just being a total and complete smart-ass. I just pulled that stuff out of thin air. I take it all back.”
“Ha! Don’t backtrack now, PG. Go big or go home, babe.”
“No, I was totally wrong. Please, God, just let me reverse time and take it all back.” I take a huge gulp of my martini.
“Come on, Stubborn Kat,” Reed says. “Don’t let Josh bully you into backing down from your closely held beliefs. Stay true to yourself.”
I shake my head. “He’s not bullying me. I don’t believe any of what I said.” I move my arm like I’m blessing them all. “You’re all supremely cool. Forget I ever said any of it.”
“How the hell did you survive with four brothers, Kat?” Josh says, spearing a vegetable on his plate. “A little bit of teasing and you back down? I expected so much more from Stubborn Kat.”
“You have four brothers?” Will asks.
“And no sisters,” Josh adds.
“Wow. That must have been fun growing up,” Will says.
I nod. “Fun and hell, simultaneously—kind of like right now. Two older, two younger. They taught me to have a thick skin, for sure.”
“The girl might as well have grown up in a frat house,” Josh says. “She’s an honorary dude. Well, usually. She’s definitely acting like a girl right now.” He takes a huge bite of food and grins.
I smile thinly at him.
Josh grabs my hand and kisses it again. “Well, young lady, let this be a lesson to you. I’m not only wise and powerful, I’m super cool, too—right down to my stupid tattoos.” He addresses the group. “See, the thing Kat doesn’t realize, is that it’s the ‘stupid’ tattoos that are the best ones. Because mistakes, big and small, are what teach us to learn and grow.”
“Exactly,” Will says emphatically. “Even the stupid tattoos wind up being profound if you think about them like that.”
“I was just being a smart-ass, Will. Please don’t be offended,” I offer.
“I’m not offended at all,” Will says gently. “My dragon tattoo is kinda stupid—but the cool thing is that it’s camouflage for a huge mistake.” He smiles broadly at me. “That’s why I love it. Every time I look at the damned thing, I’m reminded I got my heart broken into a million pieces and came out the other side a dragon.” He takes a bite of his food.
Josh throws up his hands, totally enthralled. “Now see, that’s what I’m talking about, bro. Every tattoo, even if it’s a mistake, is a reminder of who you were versus who you are now. A map of your evolution as a man.” He swigs his drink.
“Amen,” Will says. “The body is a living canvas. It’s all there: victory, failure, mistakes, lessons learned—all there for the world to see.”
“You know what we should do?” Josh says to Will, slamming down his fork with sudden excitement. “We should both complete our lame-ass trifectas tonight. Together.”
“Fuck yeah. Barbed wire, it is, baby,” Will says. They clink drinks.
“Oh God, no, Will,” Carmen says, putting her hand on Will’s forearm. “Honey, no. Please.”
Will laughs and takes another bite of his food. “Don’t worry, Car. I’ll just get it on my ass, like my boy here. A little barbed wire on my ass for you and no one else.” He laughs.
“There you go,” Josh says, laughing. “Genius. It’s just skin, right?” He takes a bite of his steak.
“Fuck yeah,” Will agrees. “I’m totally gonna do it. We’re all a pile of skin and bones sooner or later. That’s what gets me going every fucking day, knowing I’m running out of time.”
“Amen,” Josh says. “Hey, maybe I’ll join you—add a little barbed wire to my dragon’s neck, maybe?”
“Hey, great idea,” Will says. “I’ll totally add barbed wire to my dragon.”
“Jesus Christ,” Reed says. “Will, stop listening to Josh Faraday of all people about tattoos. Listen to him about everything else, because the guy’s a fucking genius, just not about tattoos.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Josh says. “I’m wise and powerful about all things, including tattoos.”
“Don’t do it,” Reed says to Will.
“Dude, Reed’s using reverse psychology on you,” Henn warns Will. “He’s being the puppet master.”
“No, I’m not. I’m sincerely telling Will not to do it,” Reed says. “Although you should absolutely do it, Faraday. Add yet another stupid tattoo to your stupid collection.”
“My collection isn’t stupid,” Josh says. “Didn’t you hear a damned thing Will and I were just saying
? Even the stupid ones are profound, man. We’re living canvases, Reed. Duh. We’re artists and art, all at the same time.”
“Yeah, Reed. We’re living canvases,” Will agrees with solemnity. “We’re artists and art, all at the same time. We’re living performance art and our tattoos are our way of flipping the bird to mortality.”
“That’s right,” Josh says emphatically. “Getting barbed wire would be like saying, ‘Mortality, fuck you. You might be gunning for me, but you’ll have to get through my barbed wire to get me, motherfucker. Raaaaah.’”
Reed rolls his eyes.
“So lemme get this straight, boss,” Henn says, pursing his lips like he’s considering something very serious. “You got YOLO stamped on your ass because you were flipping the bird to mortality?”
Josh laughs. “Absolutely. Now, when the Grim Reaper comes for my ass, maybe he’ll see it and stop and say, ‘Never mind.’”
Everyone laughs.
Carmen leans into me. “Josh is hilarious,” she whispers.
I nod and bite my lip. “He sure is.”
Josh swigs his drink happily. Man, he’s having fun tonight.
“Okay, okay, I cannot tell a lie,” Josh is saying. “I must admit, I wasn’t thinking deep and profound thoughts about my mortality when I got YOLO stamped on my ass. I wasn’t thinking much of anything, actually. I was just a twenty-year-old asswipe who thought he knew everything.”
“Aw, don’t be too hard on yourself,” Reed says. “All twenty-year-old dudes are asswipes who think they know everything. I know I was.”
“How old are you, Will?” I ask.
“Twenty-three,” he replies. “And I don’t think I know everything.”
“Well, I thought I knew everything when I was twenty-three,” Reed says, shaking his head. “Turns out I sure had a whole lot to learn between twenty and thirty.”
“Ditto,” Henn agrees. “Jesus, has it really been ten years since Josh got his stupid YOLO tat? Oh my shit, we’re getting old.”
“Remember when thirty sounded so old?” Reed says, looking wistful.
Josh nods. “I never thought I’d make it to thirty.”
“Really?” I ask, the hair on my arms standing up. “Doesn’t everyone think they’re gonna live to a hundred and three?”
Josh shrugs and takes a bite of his food but doesn’t reply.
I look at Josh for a long beat. When I opened my door to him last night and wordlessly took him into my arms, the look on his face was so vulnerable, it took my breath away—and, just now, that exact same expression flashed across his handsome face.
“Jeez, before we know it,” Henn says. “We’ll be forty and in the middle of our mandatory midlife crisis.”
“Jesus. Who knows what fucked up shit Faraday will do then?” Reed says. “He’ll probably get himself a midlife-crisis car like a fucking Lamborghini or some shit like that. Oh, whoops. Already did that.”
“He’s got a Lamborghini?” Carmen whispers to me, her eyes wide.
I nod and she mouths, “Wow.”
“Hey, might as well have the douche-car to match the douche-tattoos,” Josh says, clearly not the least bit offended by Reed’s jab. “Like I always say, ‘Go big or go home.’ Right, Kat?”
I lean into Josh and put my head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I feel like an idiot.”
He kisses the top of my head. “We’re just teasing you, babe,” he whispers back. “It’s what we do if we like you. No worries—never worry in this crowd. We’re just playing.”
“So how about forty, big guy?” Henn asks Josh. “Can you imagine that?”
Josh shrugs but doesn’t reply. He takes a bite of his food.
“Well, I can picture all of us at forty,” Henn says. “We’re all exactly the same as we are now—strikingly handsome, fucking geniuses—only difference is we’re married and driving minivans full of screaming kids.”
Reed makes a scoffing noise. “I think your crystal ball’s got a loose wire, bro—at least relating to me.” He swigs his drink.
“No ‘married with children’ for you?” I ask Reed. But, really, I’m indirectly asking Josh—hoping maybe he’ll join in the conversation. Why has he gone suddenly mute?
Reed shakes his head emphatically. “No, thanks. I’m gonna be like George Clooney. That dude’s got the right idea.”
“Oh, I bet even George Clooney will get married one day,” Carmen says. “When he meets the right woman.”
“I think so, too,” I agree.
“No way,” Reed says. “Not George. He’ll be the last man standing.”
“I’m with the girls on that one,” Henn says. “When George finds the right woman, he won’t wanna let her go. I’d bet anything on it.”
“Oh, you’d bet anything on it?” Reed asks slowly, rubbing his hands together.
“Just a figure of speech,” Henn says. “Don’t even try your Jedi mind tricks on me.”
Josh laughs.
“Hey, Carmen. Why do you say that about George?” Reed asks. “What do you see that I don’t?”
Carmen shrugs. “Oh, I dunno. I don’t know the guy. He just seems like a passionate person. And passionate people are always the ones who fall the hardest.” She looks at Will lovingly.
Will’s face is absolutely adorable right now. He leans in and kisses Carmen on the cheek.
“I agree with Carmen,” Henn says. “When a man finds the right woman, it’s a game-changer.” He shrugs. “So I hear.”
“Aw, it sounds like you’re a diehard romantic, Henn,” Carmen says.
“Maybe I am. All I know is I’d love to be married one day to the right girl and maybe even have a little baby. A little daughter maybe. I think that’d be really nice.”
“Really?” I say. “That’s so sweet, Henny.” I feel myself blushing. I sneak a peek at Josh—he’s sipping his drink, not saying a word—and my cheeks blaze even hotter.
“What about you two?” Henn asks, and my stomach seizes—but when I glance at Henn, ready to deflect his question, he’s looking straight at Will and Carmen, not at Josh and me.
Will and Carmen look at each other for a beat. “Um,” Carmen finally says. “Well, I’d love a family one day. But I think that’s a loooooong way off.”
Will laughs. “Good answer.” He wipes his brow comically. “Phew.”
I can’t bring myself to look at Josh right now and I’m not sure why. My skin feels electrified. “So what about you, Will? What does your future hold, ya think?” I ask, trying to deflect attention from my hot cheeks.
“Oh, I can answer that,” Reed says. “Will’s gonna be a mega-superstar.” He holds up his drink and everyone follows suit. “A toast. To 2Real—the next big superstar.”
“Hear, hear,” everyone says, clinking glasses.
Carmen leans over and kisses Will on his cheek and he smiles.
“My boy 2Real’s gonna be a household name, mark my words,” Reed continues.
“Thanks, Reed.”
“No need to thank me, man. I’m just telling it like it is. You’re a fucking genius.” Reed addresses the group. “After my party the other night, Will and Dean sat down with an acoustic guitar and started messing around, and within an hour, they’d written the bones for the most badass song you’ve ever heard in your life. The thing’s gonna be a smash hit.” He snaps his fingers. “And they wrote it just like that.”
“It’s totally awesome,” Carmen agrees. “I can’t get it out of my head.”
Will’s eyes are sparkling with sudden animation. “Dean and I totally hit it off—brothers from another mother. We’re planning to record it in L.A. next month after Red Card Riot’s tour ends.”
“I bet we’ll wind up making it the lead single off your album,” Reed says. “It’s just that good.”
“What’s it called?” I ask. “When I hear it on the radio a year from now, I wanna remember this conversation and say, ‘I knew him when.’”
“We’ll probably ca
ll it ‘Crash,’” Will says. “It’s pretty dope, if I do say so myself. Best song I’ve ever written. I can’t wait to get into the studio and get it down—I’ve got a million ideas for the instrumentation. I’m gonna do something really unexpected with it.”
Reed rubs his hands together. “I smell a hit.”
The waiter arrives to clear dishes and bring refills on drinks.
“What about you, Party Girl with a Hyphen?” Josh asks, breaking his long silence. “What do you see in your future?”
“Um...” I say. Josh didn’t answer this question earlier, I noticed, so I’ll be damned if I will. Although, if I were being honest, I’d tell him I’m beginning to see a future that includes him. “Well, I’d really like to own my own PR firm one day,” I say, opting for a safe but true answer to the question.
Josh looks completely floored by my answer. “Wow,” he says. “Really? That’s awesome. I had no idea. ‘Party Girl PR.’”
“Hey, I like it,” I say.
“Well, fingers crossed, maybe you’ll come into a million bucks one day soon and you can make that happen sooner than you ever imagined.” He winks.
I grin broadly. Crazy as it sounds, I’d actually forgotten about the million bucks Jonas and Josh promised me if we’re actually successful in transferring The Club’s money tomorrow.
“Oh yeah, speaking of PR,” Reed says, “thanks for all your hard work on the campaign for my club, Kat.” He laughs. “Impeccable work so far.”
“Thanks for being my client,” I say. “Was it you who called my boss and charmed her pants off?”
“Yeah, I called her,” Reed replies. “And I couldn’t have been more insistent we had to have you personally. But I just picked up the phone. It was Josh who paid the bill—he’s really the one to thank, not me.” He winks at Josh.
I flash a huge smile at Josh. “Well, thank you both. I’m really grateful I’ve been able to hang out here all this time without losing my job.”
“Anything for Josh,” Reed says. “I can’t even count all the favors this dude has done for me over the years. Josh Faraday might have douche-y tattoos and a midlife crisis car, and he might think he’s one hundred percent right about Happy Gilmore when he’s dead wrong, and he might—”