“Awesome,” Caro said.
“Did you ladies have something in mind?” Emmitt asked.
“I know what I want. I was thinking of, like, a falcon, coming down my shoulder over here,” she said, moving her hand across her shoulder and down to her chest, “But I want colors like purple, oranges, greens in the background, and like bleeding into the wings, and go up the neck.”
“Yes!” Emmitt said, excited, “Now that’s something I can work with. Most people come in here and pay thousands of dollars for a tattoo with no artistic content. They just want some stupid quote, saying, or symbol that a million other people have. What about you? What would you like?”
“Who, me?” I asked, “I want a stupid quote or saying.”
Emmitt appeared slightly embarrassed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“It’s okay. It’s her first tattoo,” Caro said.
“Well, Lona can do hers. She’s really good with fonts. She should be finishing up with the frat boy in a minute,” he said, “I’ll go run through some pictures and ideas for yours, Caro, and you can tell me what you think.”
“I trust you. Besides, I like to be surprised,” Caro said.
Emmitt walked away, and just as he did, the young man seemed to have his tattoo finished. He flexed in the mirror as he gazed at his back.
“That’s perfect,” He said, pleased with the letters of his fraternity engraved on his back.
“Great, let’s get you out of here,” Lona said to him, escorting him to the door. He placed his hand on the door to open it, but smashed face first into the glass.
“Here, let me get that,” Lona said, unlocking the door and letting him out, “Have a good night.”
She waved to him and relocked the door. As she turned around, she sighed in relief, “Oh my God. He was so drunk.”
“Can’t you just deny service?” Caro inquired.
“He just paid almost a thousand dollars for two fancy letters on his back. Ha ha, I’m never going to say no to that,” said Lona.
“Touché,” said Caro.
“So what about you, what are we doing for you today?” Lona asked, glancing over at me.
I was able to get a good look at her for the first time. She seemed to be in her early thirties with blond hair tied back from her face and hints of purple highlighting various parts of her hair. She spoke in a voice slightly deeper than most women I had encountered in my life. She had sleeves of tattoos, a piercing through her nostrils like a bull, and wide rings in her ear lobes that you could fit a marble through. My curiosity was piqued.
“I, uh, want words going down my back that say ‘Broken Beyond Repair’ in some sort of twisted font,” I replied.
“I can do that. Just let me know the size and type of font you want and I’ll draw it up,” Lona replied, “We have some examples in the book over there, if you would like to go through them.”
“All right, sounds good,” I said.
Caro helped me go through the fonts and offered suggestions to expand upon the idea. I had no experience with tattoos, and all of Caro’s tattoos were extraordinary and beautiful, so I just told her to suggest whatever she thought would be coolest. She grinned and went to talk to Lona about the details. Emmitt was ready for Caro, so she went away to start her tattoo with him. Lona prepped the tattoo chair that was much like a massage chair. I sat down in it with my back facing her and pulled my shirt over my head, to give her the first look at her canvass.
“From the looks of it, I’m guessing this is your first tattoo?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you nervous?”
“No, not really.”
“Well, I’ll be honest with you. This is going to hurt.”
“I’m counting on it,” I said with a grin, glancing back at her.
“Excellent,” she said, returning a grin, “Just let me know if you need a break.”
“Okay.”
Lona readied her ink and tattoo gun. I crossed my hands and rested my face on my arms, almost ready to take a nap. Then I heard the tattoo gun turn on. The noise startled me. It sounded like some sort of electric drill. My muscles tensed and I glanced back to Lona with dread.
“It sounds scarier than it is,” she said, laughing.
“Okay,” I said, facing forward again.
“All right. Here we go,” she said, as the needle touched my skin for the first time. To my relief, it was as she had described. Did it hurt? Hell yes. However, not as much as I expected. I found the pain to be reasonable and, after a short while, it was quite relaxing. My muscles decompressed and my body melted into the chair.
“Oh, you’re loving this, huh?” asked Lona.
“Absolutely,” I said with a smile.
After a couple hours, just when the pain was starting to get intense, Lona finished up. She wiped everything down to clear any excess ink and inspected her finished work.
“Perfect. You want to take a look?” she asked.
“Yes, please.”
She pulled out a Polaroid camera and took a picture. She positioned me in front of a large mirror and handed me a smaller mirror.
“Just stand here, hold the mirror out in front of you and to the side till it’s facing the opposite mirror, then just get in the best position you can to view it,” she said.
I stood, moving the mirror this way and that. I struggled to get a good view. When I finally captured the right angle, I narrowed my eyebrows, thinking there must be a mistake. I stepped closer to the mirror and positioned it again. The tattoo was quite beautiful. She adorned my back with crack marks like cracks in pavement. Shadowy hands crept out of those cracks, gripping the shattered pieces. I found the tattoo to be beautiful and exquisite but there was a typo.
“Hey, um, Lona. I don’t mean to
