The group laughed. Tom groaned, and slapped his head. "Kerry...Kerry...Kerry...how could you?" He moaned. "Why didn't you try a different dealership? I got mine in Daytona during bike week. It was like a religious experience."

Kerry took a lazy swallow of her amber colored beer and shrugged one shoulder. "We use it down by the cabin in the keys. If we kept a Harley in the shed, we'd spend half our time writing police reports on it. So, it worked out for us. Maybe my next one'll be a hog."

Tom waggled his eyebrows at her. "Wanna go for a ride after we eat?"

"Sure," Kerry agreed. "As long as you don't have chili again."

The gang laughed again, and Rod threw a corn chip at his buddy. "She gotcha."

"Damn it, I like chili!" Tom whined. "Okay, here, at least get a picture of me with a good looking girl on my bike. I gotta have something to show the guys." He gave Kerry a pleading look. "You mind?"

With a chuckle, Kerry set her beer down and got up, following Tom over to the slick machine and admiring its lines as she hopped up and gingerly settled herself on the back part of the seat. "Hm."

Tom got on in front of her, and did a muscle dude pose, flexing his bicep for Kerry's admiration. Obligingly, she leaned against him and pointed at the muscle, raising her eyebrows for the camera. "Psst," she whispered. "I think Dar's are sexier."

Tom gave her a look over his shoulder. He was blond and football player style buff, and had a crew cut that was almost fifties in its rigor. "Gee, thanks Ker," he muttered. "You really know how to make a guy feel great."

Kerry chuckled, and slid off the bike now that the flashes had stopped. She headed for the table, sidestepping the outstretched feet and reclaiming her chair with a sigh.

"Okay, okay." Tom finally joined them, after he carefully made sure his new bike wasn't going to fall over onto the sidewalk. "This round's on me, since I don't have to start paying on this thing for three months."

Whistles all round greeted his speech.

Kerry relaxed, looking forward to her cheeseburger with a sense of decadent pleasure. She felt sort of bad for Dar stuck in her hotel up in New York, but she was glad to get the chance to decompress after work.

She let her eyes wander as the group chattered about Tom's new bike. The conversation ranged from the latest disaster film premier to the latest storm brewing in the tropic. "So what did you say you're doing tomorrow, Sal?"

"Canoeing." Sally looked quite satisfied. "We're going out to Uleta Park, up in North Dade. You can canoe around there for hours in those waterways. Then we're doing a barbeque at the park. Interested?"

"Mm...wish I could but I have to work tomorrow," Kerry mourned. "That sounds like a blast."

"Call in sick," Sally suggested.

"Can't," Kerry said. "Dar's out of town and I cover for her. But thanks for the invite. Maybe next time? I bet Dar'd like that too."

"You bet," Sally said. "We have a sort of adventurer's club around my complex. We do a lot of stuff like that, hikes in the Everglades, and sailing and all, you guys should hook up with us. There's an online calendar."

"Send it over," Kerry said immediately. "We're looking for something like that to get involved with, Sal. Thanks!"

Sally looked pleased. "You got it. You guys are fun. I think you'd get along with the rest of my crowd." She sat back. "Cool beans."

Kerry agreed. That would make Dar happy, and that made her happy. The night was looking up so far.

"Here's to my bike!" Tom said, raising his glass and extending it. "And to a bunch of good buddies!" He clinked his mug to theirs. "Just sorry Taz isn't here to see it."

Kerry tilted her mug toward him. "I'll drink to that sentiment. Me too."

Everyone laughed. The waitress returned and set their plates down, waving a finger at the beer steins and raising her eyebrows.

"You bet." Kerry handed hers over. "Let's get this party started."

"LET ME WALK you down to your car, Kerry." Rod hitched his jeans up and followed her away from the dive. "It's kinda late."

"Sure," Kerry amiably agreed, feeling a touch lightheaded.

They started down the sidewalk, and then cut over one street moving closer to the beach. There was a light stream of traffic on the roads, cars rolling along with stereos blaring and people in typically abbreviated clothing.

Kerry stifled a yawn with one hand and gazed casually into the storefronts as they passed. "Good grief. Do people actually buy that clothing?" She pointed at a shirt, which was mostly glitter and spandex.

"Beats me." Rod shook his head. "Especially since that's supposed to be a men's store." He peered at the sequined boots. "Wow."

"Wow," Kerry agreed. "I can't imagine a woman wearing those."

There was a cool breeze coming off the ocean, and Kerry gratefully turned her face into it, reaching back to ruffle her shortened hair and let the air get to her damp neck. It wasn't really that late, a little past nine, and privately she didn't want to rush back to their condo that was sadly lacking Dar's presence.

No offense to Chino, of course.

"Did you park in the public lot?" Rod asked.

"Yeah." Kerry nodded, her eyes drawn to a lurid neon sign. She slowed as they came even with the tattoo shop, looking at the art in the windows and the dimly seen figures inside. "That's some nice art."

"Hell yeah," Rod agreed, stopping to look. "You have any?"

"No." Kerry shook her head with some regret. "In my family, that wasn't something you did if you didn't want to be locked in the attic for twenty years."

"I thought you lived with Dar." Rod pressed his fingertips against the glass. "A good friend of mine works here. He's an artist."

"I do live with Dar." Kerry found her eyes drawn to the designs, some basic and explicit, others fantastic forays into strange art.

"She has a problem with tats? I didn't figure she did. She's pretty cool."

"No, not that family. My birth family." Kerry peered at one of the designs. "Is any of this your friend's work?"

"That stuff." Rod pointed at a phoenix erupting from a bed of flames, and a beautiful Chinese dragon. "That's his." He eyed Kerry. "You want one."

Kerry's lips twitched. "I've thought about it," she admitted.

Rod glanced at the door. "Let's go inside and talk to my friend. At least he can give you an idea of what it costs, and stuff like that. Maybe if you have a design in mind, he can draw it up and show you what it would look like."

It sounded pretty harmless. "Okay." Kerry followed him inside, aware immediately of several things.

One, it smelled clean inside. There was a distinct scent of cleanser in the air along with an almost jarring buzzing noise coming from one of the three dentist style chairs against one mirrored wall.

"Hey dude." The man behind the desk greeted Rod. "You're moving up in the world."

Rod blushed. "Ah...uh, no, uh...this is just a friend of mine. Her name's Kerry. She's in my kickboxing class."

"Uh huh." The man regarded Kerry. "Looking for some art, Kerry?"

Kerry bravely approached the desk, putting her hands on it and giving him a faint smile. "Well, I was thinking about it," she said. "I wanted something sort of personal."

"You mean you don't want a flaming skull with born to die on your bicep?" The artist grinned at her. "Damn."

"Not exactly." Kerry felt her mouth go a little dry. "Let me tell you what I had in mind, and maybe you can suggest something."

The man smiled broadly. "Now that's what I like to hear." He pulled a stool up behind him, and motioned for her to sit down. "Rod, go get a coke." He eyed his friend. "And get one for the lady."

Rod gave him a long-suffering grin. "You want a soda, Kerry?"

"See if they have a milkshake." Kerry felt a nervous clenching in her guts. "I have a feeling I might need it."

He patted her on the shoulder. "You got it. Be right back."

KERRY STUDIED THE piece of paper in front of her, her heart beating a little fast. She was aware of shakiness in her belly, and the air conditioning of the shop seemed a little too cold at the moment.

"Do you like it?"

She traced the outlines of the design with her eyes, all smooth and sinuous. "I do like it. Very much." She looked up at the artist. "I'm just trying to psych myself into doing it."

The artist sat down next to her. They were on the other side of the shop, in a small, almost cozy seating pit with a comfortable couch and two plush chairs. "You know, I hear that a lot."

Kerry laughed faintly. "I'm sure you do," she murmured.

"Take your time," the artist said. "But if you really want to do this don't go home and think it over. You won't do it."

He was right. She could feel it in her heart. If she walked out now, she wouldn't come back. This was one of those 'in the moment' things Dar was always talking to her about.

Did she want to do this, though? Kerry ran her fingertip over the design. She'd been thinking of getting a tattoo for a few months, spurred on maybe by the body art she saw in the gym.

Maybe driven by the need she still had to rebel against her family. The thought of her family's faces if she told them made her lips twitch into a fierce grin. This was something different than everything she shared with Dar, too.

This was just her.

"It is forever," the artist said. "Well, unless you're stupidly rich and love pain. The laser hurts more than the tat itself does. So if the design there isn't something you want on your skin for a long time, give it a pass."

Kerry looked up at him, studying his interesting, angular face. She handed back the piece of paper, and managed a shaky grin. "I want it," she said. "Let's do it."

He didn't seem surprised. He got up and patted her shoulder. "Okay, you sit here and finish your shake, while I get this ready and set my station up." He hesitated. "Did you want to hear the price first?"

"No." Kerry shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

He nodded. "Want to know if it's going to hurt?"

Kerry gave him a wry look. "I assumed it would," she said. "I nick myself shaving and it hurts. Can you stick needles into your body and have it not hurt?"

"It'll hurt," he confirmed. "Especially where you're getting it. But if you get to where you can't take it, just kick me in the kneecap and I'll give you a break. Fair?"

"Fair." Kerry knotted her hands together and took a deep breath as he moved away. "Whooof," she muttered. "Here we go."

DAR TRUDGED INTO her hotel room, tossing her jacket over the nearby chair and kicking out of her formal shoes even before she had the door properly closed. "Know what?" she addressed the empty room. "I'm about ready to go work someplace I can wear jeans every damn day."

She was tired, and aggravated, and here she was near midnight after a very long, stressful day. "Stupid sons of bitches," she cursed, giving her room a glare. "I come all the way up here and the entire pack of jackasses don't have the start of their act together. Pain in my ass, and a waste of my time."

Their client's team had fallen apart trying to answer her questions. Everything she asked was either deferred to their VP Ops who was out of town, or met with an anxious, wide-eyed stare of incomprehension.

Their CIO had been pretty much mortified, and offered to take Dar out to dinner to make up for the chaos. He'd turned out to be a vegetarian.

Dar had forced him into a steakhouse, sending a brief mental apology to her mother as she ordered hers rare and spent a desultory couple of hours making polite conversation about nothing significant at all while a pounding ache in her head slowly grew into what she suspected was the beginning of a migraine.

Aggravated wasn't the word for what she was. Disgusted, hurting, sick to her stomach, and just hellfire damned annoyed didn't even come close either.

With a sigh she started unbuttoning the sleeves on her shirt, slowing as she spotted a basket on top of a small table in the reasonably elegant room. She didn't remember it being there earlier when she'd thrown her luggage into the room before heading for the client, but then the bottle of champagne resting with distinguished chilliness nearby hadn't been either. "Hm. What have we here?"

She glanced at the tag on the champagne. "Forget it, Stewie. You'll be lucky if I leave you an extra set of tin cans tomorrow." Her lip curled slightly at the sight of her erstwhile dining companion's name. "You can keep your damn fake French bubbly."