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Sara-Beth and Leona insisted that she and I accompany them to have their ankles inked.
I understand Leona wanting Taeli here for the momentous occasion but I’m still a little baffled as to why I’m here.
“We’re positive,” Leona answers.
“Okie dokie,” Taeli says.
She walks up to the door and holds it open for the three of us.
Leona links her arm with Sara-Beth’s and guides her into the funky shop.
It’s small and quaint, with a counter that has a computer screen, an iPad for payment, and a couple of thick binders filled with laminated artwork for clients to peruse for ideas or inspiration. A girl with gauges in her ears, black hair that is pulled up in knots above each ear, and a gorgeous full-color tattoo sleeve on her right arm, is seated behind the screen staring at the phone in her hand.
“Can I help you?” she asks when she spots us entering.
“Yes, we have an appointment. I’m Leona Tilson and this is Sara-Beth Tuttle,” Leona answers.
The girl taps at the computer’s keyboard and then pulls two clipboards from under the counter and hands one to each of them.
“Here is your release form. If you’ll read it and then sign here and initial each of the highlighted spaces, please. Once you’re done you can take a look at these while your artist gets set up,” she says, sliding the binders in front of them.
“Oh I brought my own,” Leona says, taking the photo she printed of an old-fashioned windmill and handing it to the girl.
“Cute. I’m sure Eddie can draw you up something close to this.”
“And I have this as well.”
Leona pulls a greeting card from her purse.
“It’s a Valentine’s Day card from my late husband. That’s his signature. He always signed my cards with Love You Till Forever. Is there any way to trace his handwriting and add it to the picture?” she asks.
The girl smiles.
“I’m sure we can manage that.”
Then she looks at Sara-Beth.
“Do you know what you want?”
Sara-Beth shakes her head.
“I was thinking something with the number seven in it to represent my husband and six sons. I don’t know. Maxi what do think?” she asks, turning to me.
“Um, it’s a big decision. Do you have anything that makes you think of them?”
She thinks for a moment and then her eyes light up.
“The mountains.”
I walk over to one of the binders and flip through until I find a shaded mountain ridge.
“What about something like this with seven peaks?” I ask.
She looks over my shoulder at the simple mountain outline.
“It’s perfect,” she cries.
The two of them fill out the paperwork and we are led into a room with three tattooing stations to the right and a sofa to the left. The walls are yellow and the cabinets are a deep purple that is distressed with a pearly gray.
