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“Does this mean I’m in the ‘Circle of Trust’?” I asked hopefully as I hopped out of the car. “Because matching tattoos seems like a ‘Circle of Trust’ kind of thing for sure.”
I started to fall over as I stood on the sidewalk because the neon lights were making me all sorts of dizzy. That last shot was definitely not a good idea.
“Just trust us. It will only hurt for a few weeks. A month max,” said Lincoln as he opened the door to the shop.
“A month max?” I asked, horrified. “What kind of tattoo are we getting?”
“I actually think it will be a few months, but it should be healed by the start of the season.”
“What the fuck,” I muttered as I followed Ari and Lincoln to the front desk, the bright lights spinning and swirling as I dazedly stared at them.
“Yes, we’re here for a dick tattoo,” said Lincoln to the goth looking girl with tattoos swirling up her cheeks and huge gauges in her ears big enough to fit a ping pong ball through.
Wait a second. I stared at him incredulously. Had he just said a “dick tattoo?”
“Or a dick piercing,” added Ari, doing a weird little dance shuffle to whatever techno song was blaring.
“A dick piercing,” I murmured, staring at the two of them and wondering if I was having a drunk dream right now.
Because everyone knew drunk dreams were ten times more intense than regular dreams.
That’s what was definitely happening.
I told myself that as we were led to a back room.
I told myself that as I sat in the padded chair.
And I told myself that as Lincoln and Ari discussed options with the tattoo artist, who was nodding seriously like everything they were saying made perfect sense.
“Disney, just take deep breaths. We’ll be sitting over there,” Ari said happily, patting my shoulder as he pointed to some chairs facing the opposite direction.
“Can you pull down your pants and I’ll sanitize the area,” the guy said.
And that’s when I started to stare at him in horror.
Because I was pretty sure this wasn’t a dream.
“Don’t worry. I did Lincoln’s. It’s going to be perfect.” He waggled his eyebrows. “And rumor is his wife lovvvvves it.”
“Don’t talk about my wife, Dave,” Lincoln called, giving him the side eye while I tried to wrap my drunk as fuck brain about what was happening.
“Walker, just do as he says,” Ari told me, popping some M&Ms in his mouth he’d gotten from who knows where.
I could use some M&Ms at the moment.
Davelaughed at me, like he thought I was joking. “Don’t worry. I use lots of numbing cream,” he told me. “It won’t hurt until tomorrow.”
“I don’t want to be in the ‘Circle of Trust,’” I called out as I somehow found myself unzipping my jeans.
“Holy hell, that’s a big guy,” Dave said with wide-eyes.
“Stop looking at it!” I hissed.
“It’s a dick tattoo. He kind of has to look at it,” drawled Lincoln, sipping from the beer he’d somehow gotten hold of.
“I object!” I screeched, but they all laughed at me, like I’d said something funny.
“Here, dude, have a hit. You need to calm the fuck down,” Dave muttered, offering me a bong he’d pulled from who the fuck knows where. I inhaled and then inhaled again–forgetting why I didn’t like being high.
