Tattoos

Oh it’s fading, yes it’s fading
Some of the things that I believed back then
Yes my skin had started sagging
and the ink has started running

“Tits? Check. Hips? Check. Lips? Check.” Angel sighs. “Your ass in these leather pants are perfect.” She slaps it and I jump. I fix my hair in the mirror. “I look like a whore.” I mumble and she nod. “Thats the point.” She says, getting fed up with me. “You’re unattainable in one way so we need to make up for it!”
“Right… right…” I say and she hands me my purse, shoving me out the door. I huff and stumble to my car, muttering about what an ass my friends are. I drive to the address given to me and walk up to the house. It was nice enough. For a couple of twenty-something guys living there.
Clean enough too, it looked like they knew how to use a mop which is nice.
“Hey! Yo Jacks!” John called and I turned to look at the poker table, set up in the middle of the living room, furniture pushed against the walls to make way for the monstrosity.
I watch John’s friend whisper to someone else. “John says shes gay. I doubt it.”
I smile and sit at the table. There are cards, whiskey, and cigars.
Blend in. I reach for a cigar and clip the end before lighting it, hold in the cough that ticked my throat.
I get poured some whiskey as others show up. I take a small sip and it required every ounce of will power to not wrinkle my face in distaste. I sigh and watch as the cards get dealt out. My father taught me out to play poker. I wasn’t so good with the cards, but I was good at bluffing and noticing tells.
With a shit hand I get pretty far and notice blondie across from my smooths down his eye brows, Jared scratches his nose.
John’s tell was the first I noticed, his knee bouncing, hitting mine every time he lied.
At the end of the game it’s me and some guy named Tim, who I’ve met once or twice.
I have a really bad hand. Cards that don’t mean shit. But I keep betting.
“Fine! Fine! I can’t tell I fold!” He says and I smile, laying out my crabby cards. He smacks the table and I rake in the chips. People start cashing them out and I shake my head. “Nah, it was all fun. I don’t want your money for being a good liar.” I laugh and push back some bills.
“House rules.” John smiles. And my heart pauses, forgetting how to beat for a moment.
People disperse and I lean close to John’s ear. “I have some ideas for your sleeve, do you wanna talk… in private?” I ask. John nods and I follow him to a room off to the side, a large room. His, presumably.
He sits on the bed as I walk around the room, sipping from the whiskey which isn’t so sour anymore. “John.” I sigh and run my hands off the piano. I walk over and unbutton his shirt, leaving him in a white tank top.
I sit in his lap as I put my hands on his wrist. “The sandstorm starts here, and runs up, swirling around the sun, the longhorn skull.” I sigh. The cacti bringing it together, the grains of sand, just gray dots come over your shoulder, spattering onto your chest.
I’m so close. I look up, and John doesn’t say anything, so I lean in to kiss him and it feels like fire.