“Dude, you’re an adult.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Are you getting one?” Kodi asked, resting her head on my shoulder while the others kept chatting.
“Absolutely not. No way in hell am I getting this stupid design on my body forever.”
“Aw, come on. I’m gonna get one.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You can’t tell me what to do! I’m a part of the team! I’m getting the team tattoo.”
“Yeah, Kean!” Sosa shouted. “Don’t be sexist!”
“I’m not being sexist. I don’t thinkanyof you should get a tattoo, we’re too drunk.”
“Guys, I have bad news,” Christenson said, stepping out of the parlor. “They’re booked for the night. And they also said something about me being too drunk. But I don’t look that drunk, right?”
He looked to Brooker, who shook his head vehemently, along with the other guys. None of them could nod their heads in a straight line, though.
“Let me talk to him, man. I got mine done here yesterday,” Fuller said, then looked up at the shop’s sign and squinted. “At least I think it was this one.”
“All right, that’s it. Carter, can you help me get these asses back to the hotel before they make any poor, permanent decisions?”
The guys all started yelling at me and I batted them away to look for Carter in the crowd. If Christenson was drunk enough to consider a tattoo, and getturned awayfor one, then Carter was my only hope.
But when I finally pushed through the boys to see him, he was on a bench, asleep.
“God fucking damn it.” I ran a hand over my face before looking around to assess everyone in the group. They were all wasted, faces red, eyes hazy, bodies rocking ever so slightly. Everyone but …
“Brooker.” I smacked the back of his head.
“Ow, what the fuck, man?”
“Help me get everyone back to the hotel.”
“But we’re celebrating,” he whined.
“You can come back and get the tattoo when you’re fully sober.”
“Oh, like hell am I tatting some stupid shit on this masterpiece,” he said, gesturing to his body. I smacked him again. “All right, all right. Party's over guys, we gotta go sleep this off instead ofbond.” Another smack.
“What? No tattoos?” Kodi pouted, clinging on to me as I pulled out my phone to call a cab.
“No. You can get a tattoo when you can say the alphabet backwards.”
“I don’t think I can do that sober,” she grumbled.
“All right, grumpy asshole, get in,” Brooker said, pushing Kodi and me to a van that just pulled up to the curb.
“What?”
“I called a car for us a bit ago, I just wanted to see how far everybody’d go. I wasn’tactuallygonna let anyone get a tattoo. Jeez.”
I stared blankly at Brooker for a solid second while the other guys shuffled into the car.
“Are you actually responsible?”
