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“I think.”
    “I didn’t ask you to come Monday, I told you to come tonight, Cassidy,” her mother said.
    “Mom, I can’t!  Peyton is spinning at the Red Door tonight—that’s a five-hundred-person venue, the biggest chance he’s had in weeks.”
    “Oh, goodness,” her mother replied. “For a moment I was troubled that you weren’t spending enough time getting drunk in bars and nightclubs.”
    Cassidy rolled her eyes, then nodded at Ted. “Monday’s fine.”
    “I didn’t invite you for Monday—” her mother began again, and Cassidy felt like ripping out her hair and screaming.  It had been that kind of day.  Her cheapo coffee maker at home had developed a crack and leaked coffee all over the counter, and she’d somehow ripped the little plastic tip off one of her shoelaces.
    “ Monday lunch break.” Big Ted nodded, then pulled on his thin T-shirt with sweat-stained yellow armpits. Then he added a dress shirt, tie, and a brown coat that matched his trousers, and suddenly he was no longer Big Ted the tattoo collector but Teddy Rutkowski, certified public accountant, without a hint of ink on his face, neck, or hands.
    “ Thanks, sorry, bye.” Cassidy patted Ted on the back as he shuffled away to the tattoo parlor’s front door.
    “ Don’t you hang up on me, Cassidy!” her mother snapped.
    “ I wasn’t.  Look, I can’t make it tonight, Mom, but maybe sometime—”
    “ We haven’t seen you in months,” Cassidy’s mother interrupted. “You do not live on the other side of the country, Cassidy.  It’s a twenty-minute drive.  You have no excuse.  Kieran and I never see you anymore.”
    “I doubt Kieran really cares,” Cassidy said.
    “Of course he does.”
    “He’s a sixteen-year-old boy.  All he cares about is chasing girls.  Trust me.”
    “You’re a wise woman of the world now, are you?  At age twenty-two?”
    The glass front door, covered in cave-painting-style depictions of rams and deer, opened and brought in the harsh July sunlight from outside.  The interior of the parlor was always dark, because it was painted black and because of the thick paint on the front windows—the place was called Neolithic Tattoo, and the mostly-absent owner had gone with a cheesy cave theme, including clusters of papier-mâché stalactites in the upper corners.  Whenever the door opened, the afternoon light was a blinding blast, especially in the summer.
    A young woman entered, and Cassidy recognized her.  She worked at the fitness center three blocks away, and Cassidy had sketched a hummingbird for her approval.  The girl wanted it etched on her hip.  Cassidy waved and approached the front counter to greet her.
    “I have another customer here,” Cassidy said. “I have to go.”
    “You’re coming over tonight, then?” her mother asked.
    “I told you I can’t.  Peyton—”
    “That boy is no good. Why can’t you meet anybody nice?”
    “I don’t have time for this whole conversation again, Mom.  I’ll call you back, okay?”
    “Kieran’s not sixteen, he’s seventeen.  You missed his birthday last month.” Cassidy’s mom hung up.
    Cassidy felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach.  She had forgotten Kieran’s birthday, though she suddenly had a vague memory of her mother’s voice mail about it several weeks ago.  Cassidy had gotten drunk and forgotten about the message, and she must have deleted it, too.  Now she felt guilty, a victory for her mom.
    “ Hi-eee!” chirped the fitness-center girl. “Do you have my birdie yet?”
    “ Hang on.” Cassidy went back to her station and scooped up her notebook and its spill of papers.  She riffled through them and found the folded, crumpled slice of bristol on which Cassidy had done the sketch.  She’d been a little coked up at the time, thanks to Peyton, and now couldn’t really remember what the thing looked like.
    “ Uh, here.” Cassidy offered an apologetic smile as she unfolded the sketch, hoping it