Those Damn Angel Wings

“Look,” Alana said while putting down her cigarette, “I ain’t fuckin’ with you tonight Ed.”

“And why the hell not!?”

Alana popped her bright red lips and stubbed the cigar in an ash tray. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs up on the table. “Because I said so.”

“That ain’t no valid reason,” Ed said while squinting his eyes. His overly dyed black hair was all messed up and hanging his face. “Plus it’s Friday night. We need to do something.”

“Yeah, but not each other.”

Ed’s murky brown eyes lit up and Alana arched an eyebrow at him. But instead of saying anything, he dug his cell phone out of his too tight pants and flipped it open. He began scrolling down his numbers before smiling. “I got an idea,” he said with a mischievous smile.

“Shoot it out then.”

“You know how the other week you were going on and on about getting a tattoo? Well I think I know the right guy to do it.”

Alana immediately perked up after hearing Ed. “For real?”

“As real as you and me.”

“It ain’t your pothead friend is it?”

Ed bit his bottom lip. “Well… I don’t think he’s lit up one today.”

Not even considering all the things that could wrong, Alana stood up and clapped her hands. “Well what the hell are ya waiting for? Get your skinny ass up! I’m getting a tattoo in a couple o’ hours.”

“That’s my girl.”