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“You could also just google him,” I said, mortified by this exchange.
They both shot me a look. I slunk back to my corner.
“What kind of tattoo do you want?”
“Something unique.”
Jean sat down at a little desk and began to sketch something. Devin stood over his shoulder watching. I could see that Devin’s supervision was getting on Jean’s nerves, especially when he made comments and suggestions. But a wide smile crossed his lips as Jean showed him the finished product.
“Perfect,” Devin said, nodding his approval.
“Now where do you want it?” Jean asked.
“Here,” Devin said, placing a hand on the left side of his chest, right over his heart.
“All right, off with the shirt, Monsieur Racer,” Jean said.
He disappeared into the back room with Devin. I followed closely behind. It was a small room, arrayed with Jean’s tools and equipment. He was preparing needles and dyes while Devin pulled off his shirt and stretched out on the table.
“You’re insane,” I said in Italian.
“Why?”
“First of all, you are scarring your body, and secondly, this doesn’t look like the most sanitary place.” It actually looked pristine, but I was pulling out all the stops to get him to back out of this.
“Bah, you worry too much,” he replied in his improving Italian.
“Are those clean needles?” I asked as Jean pulled a chair up to the small table Devin was lying on. Damn, now I was insulting the guy.
Jean pointed to the wall. There were several papers framed there, certifications, and certificates of achievement, along with a few awards. It seemed that Jean was quite established.
“And I get visits from the health department all the time. To make sure I run a clean operation. That all right with you?”
“Yes,” I mumbled.
But I couldn’t watch. I stood in the corner, staring at Devin’s face as he tried not to grimace with pain. It took less time than I’d expected before Jean stood up and walked away from the table. Devin sat up, and I saw the tattoo for the first time. It wasn’t large, perhaps only two or three inches in either direction. I came closer and examined the tattoo. It was the profile of a woman’s face, with flowing, wavy black hair cascading behind her. Jean was definitely talented.
“Is that me?” I asked quietly.
“No, it’s the other woman I’m in love with. What do you think of it?”
I was speechless for a few moments. “I like it,” I said, finally sputtering the words out.
“It’s a symbol of our love,” he said, pulling me close.
I was touched, as over-the-top as this was. It would be a permanent reminder of me, even if one day we were no longer together. Didn’t he know how many celebrities regretted an act like this?
“You never cease to amaze me,” I said, kissing him.
“What are you going to get done?” he asked innocently.
“I’m not getting anything done!” I said with surprise.
“You have to. I didn’t go through all that pain for nothing.”
I wagged my finger at him. “It was your idea to come here, not mine.”
“I just had you emblazoned on my heart forever; the least you could do is get a little one somewhere.”
