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CHAPTER ONE
The bell above the door gave a little tinkle, and she immediately started to feel anxious and unsure of herself. She could smell the ink and something akin to leather, the buzz of the tattoo gun and needle working their magic, but she wasn’t sure. After all, this was her first visit to a tattoo parlor.
“Hi, can I help you?” asked the man behind the counter.
The walls were covered with amazing artwork. Cartoons, flowers, buildings, love, blood, war, and peace. There was a ham sandwich running from a pack of angry pigs, a dog dancing in a kilt, and stunning portraits of people alive and dead. It was overwhelming.
“Yes, I’m here to get a tattoo,” said the young girl.
“I’ll need to see some ID,” said the man.
She stared at him, wondering if she should try to flirt her way to the tattoo, but wasn’t even sure how to do that. Someone told her it was simple. No one would ask for her ID. I mean, it’s just ink. She started moving from one foot to the other.
“I’m eighteen, I swear.”
“Great. Show me your ID,” he said.
She pulled out the pathetic fake ID that her friend Renee had given her. It didn’t even look like her, but it got her into clubs, and that was all she’d cared about. Although, right now, she wished it were significantly better.
“Honey, I’m sorry, but I’m not stupid, and I damn sure won’t risk my license. The last thing I need is for angry parents to come knocking on my door with the state board. How old are you really?”
“I’m seventeen, but I’ll be eighteen in July,” she said with a frown.
“You’re only a few months away. Why don’t you just wait?” he said.
“It’s not a big deal!”
“It’s obviously a big deal if you’re willing to lie and use a fake ID to get one. Trust me, I’ll be here when you have your birthday. In fact, I’ll give you an eighteen percent discount if you come in on your birthday.”
“Maybe,” she said, trying to take the ID from him. He pulled it back, shaking his head.
“Sorry, sweetie. I have to turn this in. You came to the wrong tattoo parlor today. I won’t risk my business.”
Something inside her panicked a bit, and she ran from the shop, walking swiftly down Canal. He’d been one of the most highly recommended tattoo artists in the area. All her hopes were on him. She knew that she should have a little patience and wait, but she really, really wanted that tattoo. It shouldn’t be such a big deal. Maybe if she went further into the Quarter, near Tremé, she could find someone not so picky.
Passing Jackson Square, she gazed at the artwork on display, listening to the musicians blow their horns and strum their guitars. Some of them were actually really good. Others needed to practice a bit more. Tarot card readers and fortune tellers lined the fences, calling over tourists to hear their futures. Some of them would yell out things that would make them more interested.
“You’re going to get that new job.”
“You’ll break up with him, only to take him back.”
Even she knew that it was all coincidence, and the odds were in favor of them being right about someone.
She watched as three teenage girls giggled, staring at something on each other’s backs. Walking closer, she saw that they all had a small tattoo on their shoulder. It was a strange symbol, almost like a Chinese character, but she wasn’t sure, having no knowledge of the language.
“Hi, did you just get a tattoo?” she asked the girls.
“Yeah, aren’t they cool! We all got the same thing. It means friendship or something.”
She stared at the symbol, the letters so pretty and colorful. They were the perfect size, not too large, not too small. Most importantly, they could easily be hidden beneath a shirt until she turned eighteen.
???
“That’s so cool,” she smiled. “I tried to get one over at The Mask, but they wouldn’t let me. I won’t be eighteen for another few months. I just want something. I’m dying to get a tattoo.”
“There’s this guy that does them, and he travels all around the city,” said one of the girls. “He’s kind of hard to find, but once you find him, he does whatever you want, no questions asked. He didn’t even ask our ages.”
“Where is he?” she asked, filled with hope.
