Having the ability to find quick and clever ways to overcome difficulties.
“The legend of the tattooed clover?” I asked above the slow, crooning Irish singer in the corner, and spilled my martini in the process.
My best friends and I sat at a wooden table by the crackling fire in the back of McGinny’s Pub, celebrating. The Irish bar was a favorite of ours. The conversation this evening had turned interesting, to say the least, just as I had hoped.
Only, I had to have heard Harm wrong….
“You heard me right, Tiffany.” Harmony Jones chuckled as though she’d read my mind and then chugged her beer.
I eyed her skeptically. Harm lived to shock people—hence her red spiky hair, body piercings, and voodoo hobby—so when she talked, we took what she had to say with a grain of salt.
“I’m serious this time. Some woman came into my shop this morning, asking about all my New Age stuff. We started talking, and she filled me in on this juicy rumor.” Harm paused as she met each of our eyes in turn. “I repeat. Any of you babes heard about the legend of the tattooed clover penis, or what?”
I wiped up the martini drops with a cocktail napkin, and a smile crept across my face. The girls had come through for me again. This was exactly what I needed tonight. Something outrageous enough to keep me from freaking out over getting old.
I abhorred change.
Zoe Robinson choked on her chardonnay. “Good Lord in Heaven, no,” she chimed in after regaining her breath, her caramel curls bouncing off her shoulders and her amber eyes an inch wide.
It didn’t take much to shock Zoe. She acted so innocent. You’d never know the darling had just had a secret affair with a younger man. He was only a few years younger, but it still counted. Harm had thrown even me for a loop this time, and I taught sensual massage for a living.
“I heard about that.” Morticia Smith’s dark eyes twinkled as she adjusted the knot of black silky hair at the nape of her neck.
That was about all you’d get from Morti without prodding. Growing up around a funeral home, she had always related better to the dead than the living. As her best friends, we were the exception. We knew the real her. The funny, sensitive, charming her.
“Okay, I’ll bite.” I held up a hand before they could say anything, because trust me, they were about to pounce on that lovely little faux pas. “Scratch that.” I winced. Usually, I had a way with words, but obviously not tonight. I tried again. “What I meant to say is, what exactly is the legend of the tattooed clover penis?”
Harmony shot Morticia a pleading, hopeful look. “Do you want to do the honors, or can I?”
“The floor’s all yours, Harm.” Morti sat back and took a drink of her diet cola and then folded her hands in her lap.
“Yes!” Harm made a fist and punched the air. Twice. “Listen up, babes, cuz this is good.” She leaned in. “Rumor has it, there’s a guy in town who has a tattoo.”
“A tattoo? So do you, doll. Several, in fact.” I arched one eyebrow high. “And that’s legend-worthy how?”
“I might have a couple tattoos, but not on my thingypoo.” Harm snorted and then frowned. “Not that I have a thingypoo.” She waved her hands. “Oh, hell, you get the point.”
“What on earth would possess someone to do that?” Zoe cringed and shook her head. “That has to be painful.”
“Wait, it gets better.” Morti’s mysterious and rare Mona Lisa smile played at the corners of her full lips.
“There’s more?” I laughed. “What could possibly be better than a man with a tattoo on his penis?”
Harm chuckled. “The tattoo is of a four-leaf clover.”
“I gathered as much,” I said, pointing out, “the legend has clover right in the name. How are clovers legendary?”
“Because not every clover has four leaves.” Morti held up a finger. “Tell them the rest of the legend, Harm.”
“Well, the story goes the guy has a tattoo of a clover on his penis, but you can only see the fourth leaf if you get lucky. Meaning, you make him grow hard, he sprouts a fourth leaf.” Harm burst out laughing. “Gotta admit that is legend-worthy.”
“Oh, good God,” Zoe croaked, fanning her face. “I don’t believe that. Who would do such a thing?”
“That’s the kicker.” Harmony glanced at Morticia. “You sure you don’t wanna tell them the rest, babe?”
Morti laughed. “Hell, you’re on a roll, sister, take it away.”
“The man with the clover is the one and only big strapping Irishman and local pub entrepreneur himself, Mr. Matthew McGinnis.” Harm sat back, looking way too pleased with her little ole’ self.
Meanwhile, I started to hyperventilate. I fanned my face and the firelight reflected off my rings, sending colors of the rainbow dancing across our table.
“Are you okay?” Concern puckered Zoe’s forehead.
“I’m fine. Hot flash.” I pulled at my neckline. It wasn’t a lie. A wave of heat had most definitely flashed through my every cell over that thought. I cleared my throat…twice. “M-Matt McGinnis you say?”
“In the flesh.” Harm grinned wide. “At least I wish he was in the flesh. I’d love to take a gander at that laddy boy’s shamrock.”
Matthew McGinnis had moved to small town Mayflower, Massachusetts, to take over his uncle’s Irish pub, and we’d been flirting ever since. He kept stopping by my massage parlor, but we always seemed to miss each other. In fact, it had been a while since I’d even seen him before tonight. The last time being at this very table when I’d celebrated the fifth anniversary of my divorce over a month ago.
A sobering thought settled into my brain. Maybe he’d lost interest. Shoving that thought to the back of my mind, I refused to believe I’d lost my touch. Maybe it was time I renewed my acquaintance with Mr. McShamrock.
“Wow, who would have thought a man like Matt would get a tattoo of any kind, let alone one there?” Zoe studied the blond giant behind the bar. “He seems so conservative, and, well…normal.”
“Hey, I have tattoos. Are you saying I’m not normal?” Harm arched her auburn brows as she leaned back in her chair.
“Of course you’re normal.” I patted her hand. “Tattoos are great, doll, but I’m with Zoe. Matthew McGinnis does not seem like the kind of person who would get one like that and especially there.”
Harmony eyed the hulk of a man as he smiled wide, his dimples sinking deep, and his animated conversation captivating everyone around him. “He looks big enough to sprout a fourth leaf to me.”
