Previously, in Money To Blow…
Marcus came home three hours late, jittery and evasive, dropping a bombshell on Keisha: he’d just gotten a $100 bill tattooed on his private parts. Twenty years together, seven married, and she thought she knew this man steady accountant, boring by his own admission. But his story about artist “Demon” and hours in the chair had her spiraling, wondering who she’d really married. She never got to see the ink. She never got the full story. Until now.
$100 Tattoo Pt. 2
Marcus swallowed hard.
The pain medication from the tattoo parlor was wearing off, and reality was setting in. “Okay,” he said quietly, “I didn’t.”
Keisha sat up slowly, looking him in the face.
“For real?”
He sighed, laying down the couch beside her.
“For real. I was at the parlor for three hours, listening to this artist named Demon talk me through it. Had the stencil on and everything.”
He rubbed his hands over his face.
“Then I thought about you. About our mortgage. About the firm’s policy on ‘professional appearance.’”
“So where were you the rest of the time?” Keisha asked.
Marcus reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
“Getting this sized,” he said, opening it to reveal a diamond ring that caught the light from the TV. “Happy anniversary. A few days early.”
Keisha’s eyes filled with tears. “You play too much,” she whispered, taking the box. “I thought you had forgotten.”
“Twenty years together, seven married,” he said softly. “I remember everything.”
She slipped the ring onto her finger beside her wedding band.
“But what was all that talk about the tattoo of a hundred dollars bill on your private?”
Marcus shrugged, a devilish grin spreading across his face.
“Just wanted to see your reaction. You know how boring everyone thinks accountants are. Wanted to prove I could still surprise you.”
Keisha laughed.
“Oh, you surprised me alright. Had me thinking who did I married.”
“Nope,” Marcus said, pulling her close.
“That same old boring accountant guy. You just love watching my investments grow.”
She rolled her eyes and kissed him.
“You’re lucky I love you, Marcus Johnson. But if you ever come home after midnight talking about dick tattoos again, I’m calling your mother.”
As they headed to the bedroom, Marcus couldn’t help but wonder what Demon would say when he showed up for his consultation next week.
Some risks, he decided, were worth taking just maybe not on certain body parts.