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There's a tattoo artist working on a gruff-looking biker dude's calf. The artist seems to be an expert. He's got the gloves and the technique and the laser focus.
God, that needle is huge.
And it's jamming into the large man's muscular calf again and again and again. The man grimaces with unspeakable agony.
"Violet, right?" Brendon steps up to the front desk. He extends his hand. "I'm Brendon. It's nice to meet you."
Somehow, I peel my eyes away from the horror of th
e needle attacking the large man's skin enough to give Brendon a proper hello. "Yeah, thanks for squeezing me in."
Despite his imposing presence, he has a friendly smile. "Anytime. Wouldn't have heard the end of it from Joel if I hadn't."
"That's Joel," I say.
Brendon looks to Ethan. "You're Joel's friend, right?"
Ethan nods. "Ethan."
Brendon's eyes light up with recognition. "The guitarist, right?"
Ethan nods.
"Got to admit, I don't listen to your band. What's it called?"
"Don't worry about it. Nice to be a normal person for once," Ethan says.
Brendon gives Ethan a long once-over. Mostly, he studies Ethan's sleeve tattoos. "That's nice work." He looks to me. "Don't worry. Yours will be just as nice."
"Uh…" Don't worry? Is he seriously telling me not to worry about a needle jamming into my skin several thousand times? I try to say something, anything, sensible but all I manage is a slack-jawed stare.
"This is your first tat, huh?" Brendon asks.
That needle is still buzzing, still attacking the biker guy.
Ethan laughs. "Yeah, it's her first. She's afraid of needles." He rubs my shoulder and leans in to whisper. "You don't have to do this."
I shake my head. I do have to do it. And more— "I want to." I take a deep breath. Somehow, I manage to look Brendon in the eyes again. "Is it going to hurt?"
He nods. "Yeah, but it's not as bad as it looks. And it's worth it. Can you think of anything else guaranteed to last forever?"
"Technically, a tattoo lasts only as long as you have skin," I say.
Brendon chuckles. He taps a few keys on the shop's computer then the printer whirs with a new design. "This is a stencil. We'll play around with where it goes and how it looks until it's perfect." He grabs the stencil from the printer and hands it to me. "It's a mirror image, but you'll get the idea."
It looks exactly like the image he sent me. It's an ash tree. The branches are shaded black. The leaves are green. At the top, birds fly into the heavens. Below the tree are roots and the dates of Asher's life.
A tear stings my eye. It's perfect.
I hand the stencil back to Brendon. He talks me through the application of the stencil, but I'm barely listening. I'm too caught up in the sound of the buzzing needle.
Thankfully, I came prepared in a low-back tanktop, no bra. All I have to do is push the strap of my top off my shoulder to make room for the stencil.
Once it's applied, he motions wait a minute to Ethan and guides me to a secluded suite in the back, right between two mirrors. "How does that look?"
I stare back at my reflection. It looks like a real tattoo and it's right there on my shoulder blade.
In a few hours, it will be there forever.
