Rattled, стр. 7
I pick up a sheet of music. “What’s this?”
“Brahms’ Lullaby. I used to sing it to Brandy before she was born, and play it on the piano for her. I guess I hoped that she’d maybe remember hearing it when she was still in me and it would make her happy.” She bites her lip and looks down. “Silly, I know.”
“No,” I say. “It’s not.” This is handwritten music, but I know the song. Who doesn’t? “Why are there hearts for note heads?”
She shrugs and smiles. “Just something I wanted to do.” Her eyes fill with tears again. “I loved her so much and there was so little I could do to show her.” Her hand slides across the sheet of music. “But whenever I hear the song, I’ll always think of Brandy.”
“Is ‘Brandy’ for her dad, Brandon?”
“Yeah.”
“What about Anne, her middle name?”
This time Kelsey grins at me. “Anne of Green Gables, of course. It was my favorite book and it’s about an orphan who went to live on a farm and had an amazing life. I hope my Brandy has one too.”
“Did the new parents keep the name?” I scribble out the question marks behind Brandon and Brandy’s names.
“I have no idea what name they gave my little girl. But she’ll always be Brandy to me.”
My throat tightens, but I’m not about to cry in front of her or the camera. Clearing my throat, I stand and grab the documents off the table. “I just need to get this scanned so I can do that tat, if that’s okay.”
She nods and I practically run from the room, only to stop in the hall and try to catch my breath.
Shit. I am such a fucking asshole. Then and now. Why didn’t I see the pain she was in?
Because I was too blinded by my own bitterness to see anything else.
Wow! I didn’t expect to tell him so much, though his being an ass isn’t such a big surprise. But he wasn’t nearly the ass I expected when I walked in here. I think there were even tears in his eyes when he left.
I know it’s not possible. Guys like Alex don’t cry. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have many emotions, other than those only his ego will allow.
Should I stay and let him do that tat? What if he’s still pissed and screws it up?
I glance over at the camera. The cameraman is back at the table with the guy holding the clipboard. They are drinking coffee and eating donuts. It’s weird having them here, but for the most part when I was talking directly to Alex, I forgot they were here.
Alex won’t screw up the tattoo. This is too important to him. He’s an artist. He was in school, and he’s got to be good to have made it this far. He won’t fuck me over because if he does, he’ll lose his shot at being on the show. Though if he does make it, I’m not so sure I want to keep watching it.
No, that’s a lie. I’ll keep watching it. It’s the Reeds, the best eye candy on television. Yep, it’s a good thing one of them isn’t doing this tat. I’d be too tongue-tied to utter my name, let alone describe how I want my baby’s footprint for my tattoo.
I don’t know what’s taking Alex so long. I reach to take a drink of my water, but it’s empty. “Could I have more water, please?” I ask the guys in the back.
They bring me a fresh cup, but don’t say anything.
I look down at the rattle in my hand. It’s all I have right now. Alex took everything else. Why? All he needed was the footprint.
A few moments later he comes back, handing me the envelope. I quickly check to make sure everything is back in there where it should be, and not ruined. He’s carrying sheets that I assume he’s going to use for tracing.
“You want it where only you can see it, right?”
“Yeah.”
“We can do your hip, which I’d rather not, and you said the ass was out.”
“If I have to…”
“But I’d rather put it beneath or on your breast.”
I glance back over at the camera. I’m not showing my boob to the world, if this makes it that far.
“You’ve seen the show. They filter out anything that isn’t PG.”
“Still, you’ll see my boob.” I look over at the crew. “They’ll see my boob. I’m not really comfortable with that.”
He opens a drawer and pulls out two things that look like bandages. “Put these over your nipples.”
I glance back at the crew again, not sure I want to expose myself like this.
“Listen, I’ll turn my back, they will too, and they’ll shut off the camera until you are set. And I’ll keep what I’m not working on covered. Does that work for you?”
If I don’t agree, he’ll put it on my arm, or stomach, or some other place the world can see. And I don’t really want it on my hip. If I wear the wrong cut of pants or shorts, it might be seen, and this is for me and nobody else. “Okay.”
Alex looks at the crew. “Guys, can we have a sec?”
One lowers the camera and then they both turn around. “When you are done, just lie back and put this over you.” He hands me a towel and turns away.
I pull my shirt over my head and unhook my bra. My hands are shaking and I quickly lie down and cover myself. It doesn’t matter that something’s covering me. I still feel exposed.
All I hear is some movement and clothing shuffling. “Okay,” she finally says. I turn. She’s on the table, wearing nothing but her jeans and a towel.
“I’m going to warn you, this may still be seen if you wear a swimsuit or a really low-cut top.”
“I don’t wear