Tattoos and a Switchblade Attitude

Alex hates being a tattoo artist sometimes. One of those times is right now. It's two AM, and he hasn't had a customer in hours. Of course he hasn't, it's the middle of the fucking night, and he lives in the suburbs. If there's one thing Alex can tell you about the suburbs, it's that it's dead after about midnight at the latest. His shift ends in twenty minutes, and he's counting down the time.

He's packing up his supplies when he hears the bell above the door. He looks up to find a blonde guy who's about an inch taller than him walk in. He's alone, and he seems to be having a bit of trouble walking. Alex figures that, as long as he can walk this well, he's sober enough to get a tattoo. He doesn't know for sure. He'll wait until he finds out what tattoo this guy wants.

The guy looks at Alex through wide green eyes before speaking up. His voice sounds pretty clear, to Alex's relief.

"I wanna get a tattoo," the boy in the doorway says, swaying a tiny bit.

"Sure, dude," Alex says. Even though he's exhausted and grumpy, he can't take it out on a customer. "Follow me."

Alex leads John to his workspace and tells him to have a seat.

"What do you want?" Alex asks. "I have design books if you wanna see them."

Alex reaches for his boss's design binders, but the guy cuts him off.

"I want your name," he giggles, then hiccups before finishing, "right here."

He points at his ass, and Alex sighs at the realization that he's underestimated how drunk this guy is.

"You want my name on your ass?" Alex clarifies.

"Yeah," the tall stranger says, nodding sloppily. "What's your name, baby?"

"Okay, I underestimated how drunk you are. You won't even remember what I look like in the morning, probably," Alex says. "I can't tattoo you. Come back between one and five tomorrow afternoon and if you still want my name tattooed on your ass, then we'll talk."

"But I know I want it," he whines, and Alex isn't sure why he couldn't tell that the guy was this drunk before.

"Then there's no reason why you can't come back tomorrow. Besides, we were supposed to close five minutes ago," Alex explains. "Do you need a ride somewhere?"

He hiccups and shakes his head, and Alex ushers him through the door, closing and locking it behind them.

The next day, Alex shows up at work at twelve-fifty. Between one and three, he gives an eighteen-year-old girl a tattoo of a dreamcatcher and fills in a twenty-something guy's sleeve tattoo.

At three-thirty, the bell above the door rings, and Alex sees the boy from the night before walk in. Alex almost laughs, but thinks better of it because he's nothing if not professional.

"Do you still want that tattoo?" he asks.

The guy laughs awkwardly.

"I'm really sorry about that," he says nervously. "I probably made you so uncomfortable. I was really drunk."

"It's no big deal. Is there a reason you came in, or did you just want me to relive the most awkward moment of my career?"

"I just wanted to apologize. And I sort of did want a tattoo last night. Just not the one I said."

"Wanted or want?" Alex asks.

"Want."

"Alright. Follow me."

He follows Alex, telling him that he wants an equal sign on his left bicep. Alex nods and has him sit down as he sterilizes his tattoo needle and starts on the tattoo.

"What's your name?" Alex asks, trying to make small talk. "You know, just in case I want it tattooed on my ass...don't laugh at that. Stay still."

"John O'Callaghan. That's spelled J-o-h-n O-'-C-a-l-l-a-g-h-a-n. You know, in case you decide to get that tattoo," he says, clearly holding back laughter. "What's your name?"

"Alex Gaskarth. A-l—"

"Hey, I recognize that name," John interrupts, looking like he's trying to figure out where he's heard Alex's name before. His face lights up when he figures it out. "Do you know Jack Barakat?"

"Yeah, he's my best friend," Alex says. "Why?"

"He's my roommate. He talks about you a lot."

"Oh, you go to Towson University?"

"Yeah," John confirms. "I'm a senior. Jack got switched to my dorm at the beginning of the year."

"Cool. Now I feel the need to apologize for him. Sorry."

"It's fine. He talks about you like you put the stars in the sky."

"Really?" Alex asks, although it doesn't surprise him. Jack is one of the most affectionate people he knows.

"Yeah. You guys have been friends for a
really long time, yeah?" John asks.

"Yeah. We met when he moved from Canada in eighth grade."

"Cool. So, are you allowed to go on dates with your customers?"

Alex is unfazed. He hears this question all the time.

"I'm not a doctor," he says. "So yeah."

"What about customers named John who come in drunk asking for your name on their ass?"

"I'd consider it."

It's quiet for the next two hours while Alex finishes the tattoo.

"How much do I owe you?" John asks when he's done.

"A hundred bucks and your phone number."

John smiles as he pulls out his checkbook. He writes a check to Alex before grabbing said boy's hand and writing his number on his palm.

"Call me some time," John says as he turns to leave. Alex can't believe his luck.