“Tattoos?” asked Mel, taking the menu from the waitress, leaning over to see the tattoo better.  Rosita waved hers off, she wasn’t in the mood to eat.

            “Si,” said Rosita.  “I used to design ‘em for the gangs, did a few for family too.  I did Carmen’s,” she added.

            “The one in memory of her father?” asked Bette in a softer tone.  Wondering what Rosita’s tattoo meant to her, what did the flames symbolize?  It seemed to be of a bird on fire, Bette wanted to ask what it was, but felt hypocritical doing so.

            “Si, just something I did,” said Rosita, a touch of pink rising on her cheeks.  She saw Bette softening instantly, if anything, she’d rather have Bette on her side, than against her.  Lulling in a woman like Bette Porter was something that had to be done gently, and done well.  Even though her plan to take down Shane a notch or three was scrapped, she still had an itch to have Shane hurting. 

            “It’s beautiful,” said Bette.  “Yours and Carmen’s also.”

            Just then, their food came, and the table fell into silence as Bette and Lindsay began eating.  Rosita excused herself, moving to the bathroom.  Feeling, once again, like she was trying to punish someone, when she should have been punishing herself. 

            Pushing open the door, feeling like the world was closing in on her, splashing cold water on her face.  Hearing the door opening, Rosita turned around, seeing Bette standing at the door.  Rosita wiped her face with her hands again, looking at Bette, who seemed to have something on her mind besides art.

            “Did anything happen?” asked Bette softly.

            “No,” said Rosita truthfully, knowing exactly what Bette was talking about.  “But, something was supposed too.”

            “What do you mean?” asked Bette heatedly, getting the feeling that Rosita wasn’t being as honest as she could be.

            “Nothing, just I…  I wanted to get Shane back, for what she did to Carmen,” began the Latina.  Bette smiled at the way she said ‘Carmen’ it sounded sexier, the ‘r’s rolled, the word sounded feminine and smooth.  “So I thought I could fuck my way up the chart, then fuck a few of her friends…”