‘You ripper!’ Barry whoops. ‘Harris is gettin’ his ink on!’
I’d tell him to shut the fuck up but that might come over a bit extreme. I look at Snowie. ‘You’re gonna pay for me to get a tattoo. Bullshit.’
‘No shit, mate. You should go for it. Get Leela to do it.’ Snowie is practically crowing. He leans over the counter, gets the attention of ginger bloke. ‘Leel on tonight? She up for a greenhorn, you reckon?’
‘Yeah, she’s out the back,’ Ginger replies, stripping off his gloves after fastening a bandage to Ando’s leg.
‘Hang on –’ I start, but don’t get to finish.
‘Leel!’ Ginger calls to someplace over his shoulder. ‘Leel! Come out, you got a customer!’
‘Snowie –’ I try again, but Barry is already slapping me on the back.
‘Aah, awesome! Leela’s great, she did me arm, wanna have a look?’ He rolls his sleeve and waves a garish cowgirl at me. His arms are so woolly, it looks like the cowgirl has a hairy chest.
‘Sounds good.’ Ando’s all done now, easing the leg of his pants down over the bandage as he leans against the counter. ‘Whatcha gonna get?’
‘Buggered if I know,’ I mutter.
‘Have a look at the flash behind you,’ Ginger offers. ‘See something you like, or maybe you got something in mind, Leela can draw it. She’s good freehand.’
I hear the clump of boots on lino and the chick in question, who is apparently ‘good freehand’, dips out suddenly from behind a black velvet curtain at the far right behind the counter. She’s smoking a cigarette and her dyed red hair is slashed just below her chin.
She’s tiny, even in chunky black boots, and she’s good-looking. Older than me, pierced eyebrows arching over kohl-darkened eyes, other piercings at ears and lip. All her silver looks immaculate, like she polished her studs and ball-bearings just this morning. Fingerless fishnet gloves, a kind of rockabilly-goth thing going on with her wardrobe, juicy curves. She’s standing there, looking me over like she caught something interesting on her line.
‘You the newbie?’ She blows out at the ceiling, looks at Snowie. ‘This your idea, was it?’
‘Sure,’ Snowie says, grinning, ‘but Harris is keen. You’re keen, aren’t you, mate?’
I look at Snowie, at the tattooist chick. Feel the eager stares of Barry and Ando.
‘Sure,’ I say slowly. ‘Snowie said he’ll cover it.’
‘Right.’ Leela ashes her smoke on the floor. ‘You got anything in mind?’
‘Ah…’ I make a wave of my hand.
‘Take your shirt off,’ Leela says.
‘What?’
‘Take your shirt off,’ Leela repeats. ‘Turn around and let me look at you.’
This has got to be some rite-of-passage thing: I feel it when I stand my cane against a chair to comply. All the other blokes nudge and snort and stare, make jokey comments. I pull off my hoodie and my T-shirt and turn in a slow circle, my hands held out a little from my sides. I don’t feel embarrassed – I know I’m outta shape after the last five weeks, but I’ve still got a bit of lean muscle on, and enough scars to prove I’m not completely soft. But I’ve never paraded in front of a girl before with this feeling of being deliberately sized up.
‘You don’t want any tribal crap, I’m guessing,’ Leela says. The bangles on her wrist chime together as she draws and ashes again.
‘Dunno,’ I say.
‘Whatdoyou know?’ Leela stares at me hard.
I shrug, make a face. ‘Engines. Quarry work. Lizards, rocks. Dusty shit.’
‘Lizards,’ Leela says contemplatively. ‘Frill-necks?’
‘Get a few out our way,’ I admit.
‘Hm.’ She squints a little. ‘But you don’t look quite like a…’ She trails off, begging the question.
