In a reality where I could just as easily walk across the street for a tea and leisurely enjoy it from the comfort of a plush chair in the coffeehouse window without a care in the world?
Not so much.
Full removal required more paperwork and follow-up than I was comfortable engaging quite yet, so it wasn’t an option. I knew a few other girls like me, who’d opted for a coverup, and felt at ease with that option.
Now that I’d started making the mental shift from “survive” to “actually have a life” … maybe that would help me, too.
This wasn’t going to be like the pathetic persuading I’d had to go with myself to go to Urban Grind.
Nope.
I didn’t give myself time to think it over, I threw on some clothes to cover the naked state I’d been in since I exited the shower with slice-and-dicing on my mind.
And then I headed out the door.
DistInk’d was… loud.
Aurally, and visually, both in an aesthetically pleasing way.
The music was loud, the people were loud, the walls plastered in pictures and drawings, several ignored flat screens flashing everything from news to binge-streamed movies and shows. I got a few curious glances as I walked in, but I mostly went ignored except for the girl behind the front counter, sporting at least four facial piercings.
She smiled as I approached, putting down her cell phone to give me her attention. “What you need, love?”
“A coverup,” I told her, distractedly, as my eyes scanned the wall behind her, taking in what I assumed to be the work of artists on staff. Once my gaze landed on one I liked, I pulled aside the wide strap of my tank top, showing her the rose. “I don’t ever want to see this again. And I want to work with whoever did that,” I said, pointing to a photo of a hyper-realistic koi fish inked across someone’s shoulder.
She glanced behind her, her gaze following my directive. “He’s gonna be expensive,” she warned, once she landed where I was pointing. “Especially for a coverup.”
“I don’t care,” I told her. “Is he here right now? I’ll pay extra if I can walk out of here with something new, today.”
She raised an eyebrow at me, her gaze falling to where my strap was still pushed aside. “You getting over a bad break-up or something?”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
Her pierced lips stretched into a sympathetic smile as she nodded, sliding off the chair to stand. “Aiight. He finished up with somebody else a little while ago. Let me go see if he’s up to it.”
She disappeared behind a beaded curtain leading into the back of the shop, while I took the opportunity to do a bit more looking around. I had this gran plan to have the rose covered, but no idea what I wanted to be in its’ place.
What, exactly would be significant enough to dampen the rose’s power?
I wasn’t sure.
But what I was sure of, was the energetic shift that happened in tandem with the sound of that beaded curtain being pulled back again. I turned around in time to watch the neighborhood hottie make his entrance.
As soon as his attention landed on me, a slick smile spread over his whole face – not just his lips, but the glint in his eyes, the sudden flare in his nostrils.
“This can’t be the eager customer, Pri,” he said, addressing the girl from the counter as his dark-eyed gaze remained on me. “This woman isn’t interested.”
My eyebrow went up. “Really?”
“Stop it, Tristan,” Pri scolded him as she took her seat back, and picked up her phone. “She had a bad breakup, help her out.”
“I didn’t actually say that,” I corrected, but she was already grinning at her phone, not concerned with either of us anymore. So I repeated it to him, instead, and only got a deepened smirk in return.
“You’re not saying it isn’t true either,” he rightly countered, and I crossed my arms.
“I’m not sure why it matters, at all, anyway. Can you cover my tattoo?”
“I can do anything you can afford.”
“I can afford whatever you can do,” I responded, already sick of him, from the depth of his eyes to the softness of his beard to the bulk of his biceps, which hadn’t been quite so apparent a few nights ago. I pulled my strap aside again, displaying the rose. “Are you fixing this for me, or not?”
His teeth sank into his lip, purposely keeping his gaze locked on mine instead of looking at the tattoo. After a moment, he did, stepping closer to peer at it before he lifted his fingers to my skin, touching me in the same place I’d been sorely tempted to carve off.
I… didn’t feel like stabbing him.
In fact, I was drawn to the idea of leaning into his touch, but before that feeling had lingered too long, he’d pulled back.
“It’s nice and flat, so that’s good. The color is deep and rich – good for a tat in general, but a little more difficult to cover, depending on what you want. You got a picture or something?” he asked, meeting my eyes.
“I don’t know what I want.”
“Aiight, come back when you do,” he said. “We can sketch it out, let you live with that for a few days, then make it permanent.”
“No,” I said, stepping closer to emphasize how serious I was. “I don’t want to come back, I don’t want to sketch anything out. I want it tonight. Right now.”
“I don’t do freehand ink on strangers, sweetheart.”
“Name your price.”
He scoffed, shaking his head as he took a step back. “It’s not about the money. I have a process, and I don’t know you like that to be throwing shit off.”
“Please?” I asked, disgusted with myself for how desperate my voice sounded but… whatever. “I need this,” I told him, circling a hand around his wrist as I moved
