Tattoos

Oh its pay day

Yes it’s pay day

I got my paycheck from the man

Not so many jobs that I can get these days

With these marks all over my hands

But I’m gonna take that check

I’m gonna head across the track

To the wrong side of this town

I’m gonna open the door

I’m gonna bask in the roar

of that familiar buzzing needle sound.

I’ve always been pale. Born and raised in Arizona and I never got a tan. I got plenty of burns, but not even a burn that these turned into tans. Just more pale.

I’ve gotten two complements on my pale complexion my whole life. My mother called me her porcelain doll as a child. Still does if she’s had enough boxed Pinot. The second one was when I got my first tattoo. The artist called me a perfect canvas.

We dated for two years.

We taught me everything I know, and he broke up with me after I started getting better than him, while he had a few years of experience on me with the needle in his hand I had talent. I was known for free hand drawing, no stencils, drawing right on the skin.

You could say I’m cocky.

He certainly did.

That being said we still fuck.

I’m also pretty good at that.

Speaking of that, it’s why I was late to work today.

I stumble in and throw my bag on the couch. “I’m here!” I smile and I narrow my eyes at Angel. “No smoking in the shop.”

She groans and stubs out the stick. I walk to my chair and clan up my area. My first appointment would be here soon. I take some Febreeze and spray it over her. “Not good for business if the place smells like smoke.

She takes out another, resting it between her lips. “For later.” She explains and I shake my head. “You’re addicted.” I say, regardless of the fact its a little hypocritical, my own pack was resting in my purse, but I wasn’t this bad.

“It’s for my stress.”

“What stress?” Anna comes in from the back, sipping from her energy drink.

“Exactly.” Angel smiles and points back at her.

What? Angel tried to be philosophic but often it fell short. Either she didn’t notice or didn’t care. Or maybe she was so philosophic the rest of us dum-dums didn’t understand her.

I sit back in my chair and think about the tattoo my next client wanted. We spoke on the phone earlier and I got a familiar request. “It would be cool if you could freehand it,” He told me. “Just… don’t even thing about it until I’m there.”

I was given the simple instruction. “Tree. Throw an owl in there somewhere.”

I got immense pleasure from being given complete freedom on a tattoo. As an artist, my work with the needle was limited a lot of the time, except on myself, but I was running out of room, and I wasn’t into tattooing my face.

My guy comes in and he’s all smiles. He sees my face and it lights up. I stand up and walk over. “Nice to finally meet you!” I smile and hug him. Angel pulls out the forms he needs to sign and she explains them. He nods and signs quickly. “Someone’s in a rush.” I smile.

“I just want to get into your chair.” He smiles and I laugh, patting it. He displays his right bicep to me and I take a wipe, cleaning it off. I smile and take out my marker.

“So why didn’t you come in before?” I ask. It was odd to have someone who didn’t want to come in and discuss in person.

“I live in Cleveland, and its a little bit far of a drive.” He laughs.

“Wait. Cleveland, Ohio?” I ask and look up at him.

“Yeah. Flew out for the weekend to do this.” He smiled.

“Do they not have tattoo artist in Ohio?”

“None like you.” He smiles and I laugh.

Angel puts on my music and I start to draw, starting at the trunk, letting the branches curl out from there. I smile as Angel puts on my music, and it effects the way my hand moves as I draw the owl. I step back and he’s a little sinister.

“Okay. Be honest.” I say and he looks in the mirror. “I love it.” He nods.

“It’s going to be on your body for forever. Anything at all you want me to change?” I ask and he hums. “Shorten this branch. Other than that it’s perfect.”

I nod and fix it, stepping back. I put my gloves on and prep the needle. The buzzing starts and I relax into it. I love this sound, while some find it incessant and annoying, I’ve been around it so much I’ve grown attached to its constancy.

“Dude.” Anna says, coming over. “This shit is sick.” I tap my man’s shoulder and he opens his eyes, he was really into his music.

He stands up and goes to look into the mirror. “Holy shit.” He mumbles and turns to get another angle. “I love the… the mist you did in the back.” He says and I smile. I took a creative leap with that and I’m glad it paid off.

I smiled. Good.

The bell dings signaling someone has walked in and I turn to see my mother. “Hey babies.” She says.

“Hey Mom.” Anna, Angel and I say back. She laughs at the other two girls and I smile. “Is today the day mom?”

“Today is the day.” She nods and looks at my customer’s arm. “Did my daughter make that?” She asks and he nods.

“You’re a lucky man.” She laughs and sits in my chair.

He thanks me, and tells me how fucking jealous his friends are going to be when we shows them his Marie Jackson original.
“My friends call me Jax.” I smile and He nods. “Thank you, Jax.” He goes to settle the bill with Angel and I clean off my mom’s shoulder.

“Today is the day.” She says again and I take out my marker, drawing the same thing I have every week for years. “Today is the day.” I repeat and put my gloves on. I don’t even put in a clean needle to my gun and turn it on, as soon as the buzzing starts she jumps up.

“Today is not the day. Not the day.” She shakes her head and puts her shawl back on. “I’ll see you for dinner but today is not the day!” She says and leaves the shop. I laugh and roll my eyes.