Chapter Text
“Make sure you ask for the artist on the last door to the right.”
“Don't tell her that you bitch! She's nervous enough!”
Both of your friends laughed over their fuming cigarettes as their ankles dangled over the concrete overpass near the freeway that night.
You had just gotten out of your last first day of high-school and it was changing to say the least. You felt this incredible sense of pressure to do something memorable for your last year before you headed to college and the possibilities seemed endless.
Your friend Taylor got her tongue pierced and you were envious that she was brave enough to even do it. Your parents would kill you. Even if you were old enough to not need their signature before going through with it. Your other friend, Mera, skinny dipped in the principal’s pool with the captain of the football team over the summer and she still wouldn't shut up about it. Both of them had already checked off their ‘memorable moment’ for senior year and now it was your turn.
You had decided earlier that day during school that you were going to get a tattoo. Of course it couldn't be something stupid or something you'd regret ten years down the road. You were an art student so in your down time, you created something simple. Just an ordinary portrait of a rose with falling petals. The meaning you had dedicated to something so vast and complex that it would take days to explain but you figured any hot-shot tattoo artist probably wouldn't even ask.
Both of your friends who passed a green slurpy back and forth were wowed by your decision and waited with you outside of the tattoo shop as you built up all your courage to walk inside. You held the drawing of your rose for reference in your grip and you kept folding and refolding it over and over due to your nerves. But you knew the time had come.
“Okay, fuck it, I'm going inside.” You said as you stood, taking one last sip of the slushy shared between all three of you and the other girls jeered.
“Remember, the last studio on the right is the one you want.” Taylor said and you moved your eyes over, wondering why she was so set on this artist who you had no real clue about.
“Why do you keep saying that?”
Taylor dubbed out her cigarette on the bottom of her converse and said coming close, as if her next words were some kind of secret that needed to be kept hushed.
“My sister got her tatts done here last year and she said the artist at the end of the hallway on the right does the best work. Not to mention he's super hot! I can't remember the name but you have to ask for him!” The girl said as she placed her cold hands in the pocket of her oversized hoodie that hung down to her waist.
“You want us to come inside with you?” Mera asked as you looked up to the red neon sign outside the shop as it buzzed and whirred over the sounds of the nighttime traffic. You looked inside curiously, although all the windows were tinted black, making you feel nervous not being able to see if anyone would be waiting to greet you.
“Ugh, I mean-” You said stuttering, feeling bashful, “I don't know if I wanna have you guys in there with me. Wouldn't it make it weird?”
“It's not like you're asking for your nipples pierced, come on?” Taylor joked, hanging her pierced tongue out comedically as Mera bursted into laughter.
You rolled your eyes, knowing this junioring and teasing would never stop until you actually went through with this. You asked Mera if she'd told your parents that you both were “studying” for pre-tests so they wouldn't become suspicious of where you were and when you'd be home.
“Don't worry!” She nodded,”They totally believe you're at my house. Now stop being such a little daisy!”
They both practically dragged you inside by both your arms and you almost fell into the door as it swooshed open to allow the three of you inside. No one was standing at the front counter when you entered the smoky, dimly lit parlor that was quiet away from hardly any ongoing noise. The bell on the door alerted in a shrill ring then your friends began to wander quietly to get a look around the lobby that was far from boring.
Pre-drawn designs hung in picture frames on the wall and your eyes moved to see the different styles and images depicted in each. You saw naked, and half naked pin-up girls. Gothic, more darker creations of skulls and crows with extensive shading and line work. It was all appeasing to your own eye being a student of art but you heard as your friends began to snicker,
“Wow, this place is kinda edgy.”
“Yeah, but I hear their shit is so good. And for cheap.”
You didn't mind spending an extra dollar to have better, more refined work than any of these on the wall that would probably be nothing more than a stencil in preparation. Your birthday was just that week before and you scored a decent amount of cash from your folks as a gift. The only thing really prompting you for a move such as this.
“Can I help you, ladies?” You heard a voice ask from behind the counter and all three of you snapped your heads around.
The man stood with thin, dark riding sunglasses and a bald head that shined below the swinging overhead lights. He had a scruffy goatee on his face along with a dark tattoo under his left eye in the shape of a small sword. You felt immediately reluctant to be here after one glance but Taylor pushed you forward in a slap, telling the man you were here to pop your “ink-cherry”, a phrase that she'd mentioned earlier that made you viscerally cringe.
“You eighteen?” The man asked with his eyebrows raised and you nodded your head, mentioning you just had a birthday.
He fixed his stance and raised the sunglasses away from his face to say with a more serious demeanor after confirming your age.
“We charge a $100 deposit upfront. Cash.”
Both of your friends seemed to furrow their brow, in disbelief to hear something that extreme and you asked why as you tried to remember how much you'd brought along with you in your wallet.
“So nobody comes in here fucking around and decides to no-show the artist before they get tatted. Or for someone pussying out of the tattoo cause it hurts too much.”
You looked to both of your friends, worrying that a hundred bucks might leave you short when it came time to pay for the actual ink and the guy behind the counter promised the deposit was refundable after the work was completed and that it was strictly to insure that the decided artist would still be paid. You agreed after hearing that bit of good news and he called over his shoulder,
“Yo, Cho, you still here, man?”
All three of you looked to the back where he began yelling but then heard a rhythm of footsteps coming from behind a half-wall that seemed to be in a break area visible from the lobby.
The hidden artist appeared from behind the half-wall and when you looked at him, you felt yourself and both of your friends stop to take a breath.
He was tall, with dark hair that was styled up with two punk knots on the top of his head that frayed away in short spike-like points. Across his unenthused face was a black strip that laid across his nose like a bandage that must've held a story. He wore dark eyeliner and edgy eye makeup that only complemented his alternative style more as you continued to study him. He was wearing a leather jacket that was conforming to his slim figure as he leaned against that wall, now lifting his brow to ask in murmur,
“Hm?”
“You think you can tatt one more before you go home?” The man behind the counter asked and you saw this new face curl up in disgust as he said with a soured attitude after one look to your group of friends that only screamed what kind of client he assumed you to be,
“Dude, I'm not doing any more anchors or..feathers or stupid fucking infinity signs. If I'm gonna ink, it's gonna be something worth my time!”
In a quick thought, you held up your drawing as your friends still stood speechless and placed it on the counter for him to see. He moved closer after you caught his attention and his dark eyes moved down to see your drawing.
His wispy black bangs fell into his eyes, making him move them to the side in flick as he examined the art you had brought in. He narrowed his gaze in what looked to be disbelief and he held out his hand with a grunt as he asked.
“ID?”
You looked at your small zipper wallet, cursing in your mind because you knew your driver's license was in your school bag that was in Mera's room. His apathetic eyes turned up, watching you hesitate and scramble for a piece of identification and he said smartly in a scoff,
“If you don't have an ID, you can fuck off out of here, Jail Bait.”
You blushed from the somewhat aggressive nickname but also from being intimidated and you turned your head up when you found something that you hoped would suffice instead of your driving license,
“Would a uhm…school ID work? It's got my birth date.”
You handed over the laminated card that held your picture and identifying info. He held it up to the light but knew however from the first glance that it was legit and no kid in their right mind would try to fake a school ID card when the driver’s licenses one could fake were so cheap. He tossed it back on the counter and asked with another tepid glance at your drawing.
“Who drew this ugh..this flower thing?”
“I did.” You told him a little more bravely, your chin becoming higher.
“Bullshit.” He said with an untrusting disposition and Mera chimed in from behind to vouch that she'd seen you draw the picture by freehand with her own eyes.
You turned hoping he would believe two accounts instead of just your own but he curved his smart tongue into his cheek as he stood away from his slumped position against the counter. His next words spun away from his mouth like a challenge,
“Alright, then… come draw it again for me to see, if that's the case. Freehand-”
He took the drawn picture in his hands, holding it in front of your eyes when he boldly ripped the page down the center, letting it fall to the floor in pieces to prove a careless point,
“-and no reference.”
Both of your friends audibly gasped seeing your torn picture fall to the black and white tile but you didn't waver. It wasn't like someone who claimed to be an artist to destroy someone else's work. Whether it was seen as the worst drawing in the world or one of the best. You weren't taking this lightly either but you didn't let him see you go agape in a moment of shock that might've fueled his ego further.
“Fine.” You said becoming hardened away from feeling inferior any longer.
“Choso.” He said in a grumbled introduction with his hand out for what looked to be a more cordial gesture of a shake before you got started but you turned your nose up. It wasn't gonna be that easy for you to calm back to pleasantries after his little display to which you replied,
“Just show me where I'm drawing this shit.”