“What are you doing, Di?” I gaped in horror at the sight of her blood dripping down her side.
Di grimaced, obviously in pain. “Bruno’s giving me a tattoo, what does it look like?”
“It looks like he’s torturing you,” I observed.
Bruno glanced up at me and grinned. He was missing a few teeth and it gave him a sinister look.
“I can do you next, sweetheart. Maybe a tribal around your thigh? A bunny rabbit on your tit?” he sneered.
My cheeks flamed hot and I wanted to smack Bruno. But he was a little on the scary side.
Yoss stepped forward and put his arm around my shoulders. “Watch your mouth, man,” he warned the bigger guy. I expected Bruno to laugh at Yoss’s posturing. The tattoo artist easily outweighed Yoss by a hundred pounds. But he didn’t laugh. Instead he looked a contrite. His smile faded and he appeared apologetic.
“Sorry, Yoss. I didn’t realize she was yours.”
Yoss scowled.
“Yeah, okay, I get it. Sorry, Imogen,” Bruno said, sounding sincere.
“No problem,” I replied, not wanting to hold a grudge. Particularly with a guy who looked like he could break my arm with his pinkie. Bruno wiped the needle with a cloth and dipped it in what looked like black ink from a broken pen. Then he pushed it into Di’s skin again.
“Shouldn’t he be using a gun? Or sterile needles,” I whispered to Yoss.
“Bruno uses clean needles. No one has ever gotten an infection from his tattoos. He’s pretty amazing, given that he doesn’t use any traditional tools,” Yoss said, watching Bruno work.
“African tribes don’t use fucking tattoo guns,” Bruno grunted, wiping a bead of blood from Di’s back. He leaned down over her. “You okay, Di?” he asked her.
Di nodded her head, her face buried in the crook of her elbow.
“I have time when I’m done with Di’s to do yours, Yoss,” Bruno said.
I looked up at Yoss in surprise. “You want a tattoo?”
Yoss shrugged. “I’ve have an idea for one.”
“What do you want to get?” I asked.
“Your name on his butt cheek!” Bug yelled, then fell onto his back, laughing hysterically.
Yoss rolled his eyes and ignored him. He pulled the thin chain of the necklace he had bought me from inside my shirt. The little red man lay against my chest. “I want this. Just this. So you have one and I have one. Not too big. And I want it right here.” He touched a finger to the side of his neck.
“On your neck? Isn’t that a little noticeable?” I asked incredulously.
“That’s the point,” Yoss told me, kissing my mouth with a loud smack. He turned once again to Bruno who was covering the dark spot on Di’s back with some sort of antibacterial cream. I was glad to see he was doing something sanitary. “Yeah, if you’ve got time, I’d love to get it now.”
“How’s it look?” Di asked me, sitting up. I bent over to get a better look at the tattoo. I was expecting something crude and elementary, given the primal way Bruno went about it. I was surprised to see that the tattoo, a compass with the arrow pointing north, was very detailed. It was beautiful.
“It’s awesome! Why a compass?” I asked her.
Di pulled her shirt back down and pulled a cigarette from the pack she always kept in her back pocket. “A compass tells you where you’re going right?”
I nodded.
“I like the reminder that I’ve still got somewhere to go,” Di explained, taking the lighter Bruno offered her.
“That’s deep, Di,” Bruno remarked.
“Shut it, B,” she snarled.
