the only one in tramp-stamp territory. God, who decided that eighteen-year-olds could choose tattoo locations?
“Tell you what, come down to the shop with Paulie today. You can look through my book, show me what appeals to you. But then I’m going to need some time to think about this.”
I looked at Paul, wondering what he’d think about having me shoehorned further into his day. He just shrugged. “You want to stop at your place for a change of clothes first?”
“I think we’d all appreciate that,” I answered.
—
Paul visibly relaxed when we got to my house and found that my parents were not in residence. I was happy they weren’t around too, to be honest, but it was mostly because I didn’t want to deal with my mother’s knowing grin. After giving Paul the dime tour, I left him browsing my vinyl collection while I took a shower.
When I came back, he was playing my Amy Winehouse record and he had a few more records scattered on the floor around him. I moved through the room getting dressed, my lips occasionally forming the lyrics as Amy sang her heart out. I loved her bluesy, husky tone and this was one of my favorite records to sing along with, but I still couldn’t let myself.
My heart beat madly in my chest as I tossed an extra pair of underwear and a clean shirt in my bag. I wasn’t counting on another night with Paul, but better safe than sorry. Still, I made sure he couldn’t see what I was doing and I buried the clothing at the bottom of my bag below the usual crap that I toted around. I didn’t want him to think I was the all-in-after-one-date kind of girl.
We drove across town to a small brick building painted lemon yellow with the name “City Ink” scrawled on the side in neon. The letters weren’t lit, and the “Closed” sign hung below the posted hours, but there was a light on inside, and Kenzie was waiting for us.
She let us in and showed us back to her workstation. She already had it set up to get to work on Paul’s musical notes, with her hand-drawn art clipped in view.
“You cool?” she asked Paul with a meaningful tone I didn’t understand.
“Jesus, yes, Kenz.” He sounded irritated.
“I just don’t want you to have another pani—”
He cut her off. “It was one time.”
“I’m just saying…”
“I’m fine.”
“Tell me if I need to stop.”
“I know, I know.” Paul sat on her adjustable chair and pulled his shirt off before settling into what looked like an uncomfortable but familiar position, with his right arm across his chest.
“My book’s right there.” She nodded toward the counter behind the chair. “Take a look. Tell me if there’s anything you like.”
“Thanks.” I took the thick black binder and sat on a chair opposite Kenzie. Music played from unseen speakers, and she bopped her head in time as she did a few adjustments to the chair and Paul’s position. He turned his head to look at me, and I gave him a slight smile.
“Nervous?” I asked.
“Not really.” Still he took a deep breath when her hand came to rest against his torso.
“Okay, here we go,” she said. The machine whirred, and Paul winced. I couldn’t take my eyes off his face as his eyes closed and his mouth made a small O shape as he breathed out slowly.
The buzzing tattoo machine made memories of my own experience spring to life, and my lower back suddenly felt hot. I’d been pretty stoned at the time; still, the stinging wasn’t something I could forget.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Mmm-hmm.” The response was slow and soft, like he wasn’t totally paying attention to me, but his eyes opened slightly and he gave me the smallest of smiles.
Kenzie’s book sat unopened in my lap for a long time as I watched her work. When I couldn’t resist any longer, I stood up to peek at the tattoo. The beads of blood on his skin made me woozy for a second, and I had to put one hand on Paul’s arm.
“Sit down. I don’t want to scrape you off the floor,” Kenzie
“Tell you what, come down to the shop with Paulie today. You can look through my book, show me what appeals to you. But then I’m going to need some time to think about this.”
I looked at Paul, wondering what he’d think about having me shoehorned further into his day. He just shrugged. “You want to stop at your place for a change of clothes first?”
“I think we’d all appreciate that,” I answered.
—
Paul visibly relaxed when we got to my house and found that my parents were not in residence. I was happy they weren’t around too, to be honest, but it was mostly because I didn’t want to deal with my mother’s knowing grin. After giving Paul the dime tour, I left him browsing my vinyl collection while I took a shower.
When I came back, he was playing my Amy Winehouse record and he had a few more records scattered on the floor around him. I moved through the room getting dressed, my lips occasionally forming the lyrics as Amy sang her heart out. I loved her bluesy, husky tone and this was one of my favorite records to sing along with, but I still couldn’t let myself.
My heart beat madly in my chest as I tossed an extra pair of underwear and a clean shirt in my bag. I wasn’t counting on another night with Paul, but better safe than sorry. Still, I made sure he couldn’t see what I was doing and I buried the clothing at the bottom of my bag below the usual crap that I toted around. I didn’t want him to think I was the all-in-after-one-date kind of girl.
We drove across town to a small brick building painted lemon yellow with the name “City Ink” scrawled on the side in neon. The letters weren’t lit, and the “Closed” sign hung below the posted hours, but there was a light on inside, and Kenzie was waiting for us.
She let us in and showed us back to her workstation. She already had it set up to get to work on Paul’s musical notes, with her hand-drawn art clipped in view.
“You cool?” she asked Paul with a meaningful tone I didn’t understand.
“Jesus, yes, Kenz.” He sounded irritated.
“I just don’t want you to have another pani—”
He cut her off. “It was one time.”
“I’m just saying…”
“I’m fine.”
“Tell me if I need to stop.”
“I know, I know.” Paul sat on her adjustable chair and pulled his shirt off before settling into what looked like an uncomfortable but familiar position, with his right arm across his chest.
“My book’s right there.” She nodded toward the counter behind the chair. “Take a look. Tell me if there’s anything you like.”
“Thanks.” I took the thick black binder and sat on a chair opposite Kenzie. Music played from unseen speakers, and she bopped her head in time as she did a few adjustments to the chair and Paul’s position. He turned his head to look at me, and I gave him a slight smile.
“Nervous?” I asked.
“Not really.” Still he took a deep breath when her hand came to rest against his torso.
“Okay, here we go,” she said. The machine whirred, and Paul winced. I couldn’t take my eyes off his face as his eyes closed and his mouth made a small O shape as he breathed out slowly.
The buzzing tattoo machine made memories of my own experience spring to life, and my lower back suddenly felt hot. I’d been pretty stoned at the time; still, the stinging wasn’t something I could forget.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Mmm-hmm.” The response was slow and soft, like he wasn’t totally paying attention to me, but his eyes opened slightly and he gave me the smallest of smiles.
Kenzie’s book sat unopened in my lap for a long time as I watched her work. When I couldn’t resist any longer, I stood up to peek at the tattoo. The beads of blood on his skin made me woozy for a second, and I had to put one hand on Paul’s arm.
“Sit down. I don’t want to scrape you off the floor,” Kenzie
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