“He seems like a free spirit kind of guy.” I opened our paint can. “Just…always himself.”
“Or always someone else.” Abby strummed the bristles of her brush. “I like his necklace. Major has a tattoo just like it.”
“Major has a tattoo?”
“On his chest. You’ve never seen it?”
“Nope.” Though I must have, except he was pretty far away the only time I’d seen him without a shirt on lately—completely naked, in fact.
“He got it right after he left town four years ago.”
“Hmm.” Maybe I hadn’t looked above the waist.
“Hmm.”
I felt the spatter on my bare leg when I threw down my paintbrush.
Abby spun around. “Where are you going?”
I was going to see the damned tattoo, only I didn’t say so. I didn’t say anything.
Finagling around drop cloths and paint cans, scraps of wood and long, thick orange extension cords, I made my way backstage, where Major and AJ were working. They weren’t though.
“I’m tickling you again.”