“Looks great, Eleanor. I’m proud of you. You’ve come a long way. I knew I had someone good on my hands.”
Callahan stood. “Is it my turn now?”
I nodded and excused myself to take a small break. I needed fresh air. Adrenaline was rushing through me so hard my hands were shaking. I did it. I tattooed someone. Finally, I was doing my dream.
Boone and Bonnie were sitting on the porch of the shop, drinking beers and shooting the shit. Boone turned to me.
“How’d it go?”
“Great!” I beamed.
“You look like you’re gonna be sick,” Bonnie said, concerned.
“I might be.” I laughed and looked out, watching the bustling town. It had been a wild few months since the bunkers had been opened. Only a few Young Ladies and their Daddies had stayed, while the rest of them got on a bus to be transferred somewhere else for housing and work. One of the ones to stay was Olive, but I never reached out to her. I knew she was struggling to find work, but I could care less. I was living my dream. She deserved everything she got.
“What did he end up going with?” Boone asked.
“Daddy.”
While it was tradition to get a name in the wastelands, we opted to keep the ones we had before. It felt right, almost as if an homage to our times in the bunkers. However, Riot loved calling Callahan Daddy, more as a joke than anything else. He’d never used it in the throes of passion. That was reserved for me. But he still liked to do it to get Callahan worked up.
And Riot was the only one Callahan let do that.
Boogie came out to check on me. “Eleanor, you ready to go again?”
I nodded and went back inside, washed my hands, and gloved up again. I went to the back and found Cal in my seat this time. He grinned at me.
“You’re doing great, baby.”
“Are you sure you want to do this? You already have one.” I pointed to his chest, where he’d gotten a tattoo of a Young Lady who looked like me on his pectoral. It had apparently caused a fight between him and Milton.
“I know, but I could always use more ink. Stick me.” He stretched his neck and waited. Picking up a fresh needle, I dipped it into the ink and pushed the pedal. I went to work, focusing on the area, and what I was doing. On one side, I wrote Riot’s name, and on the other, I wrote mine.
I sat back and let out a breath. I was done. My first official day as a tattooist was done.
Boogie clapped me on the back.
“My turn.”
Callahan slid off the chair and I took his place, pulling up my dress and tugging my panties high to give Boogie space to work, but not forcing him to get a show he didn’t want.
I decided after the dust settled, I wasn’t going to wear pants ever again. I’d hated every moment of it down in Mercury Mile. Instead, I wore high boots while on the motorcycles and changed when I got to the shop into my regular Mary Janes.
My dresses were more expensive, but Boogie paid me well, and Riot didn’t care about the price of things, so long as I was happy. Plus, with Callahan, Boone, and Soda all working on things in the junkyard, they were bringing in way more money than he’d ever had before.
He was happy.
We were all happy.
Boogie prepped his station with fresh ink and new needles. He washed his hands, and put gloves on. “Alright, I’m going to start.”
I flinched as the needle connected with my left butt cheek. I reached for Callahan’s hand, squeezing it. He squeezed back.
“You alright?” he asked.
Riot laughed from behind him. “This is nothing. She took her first tattoo like a champ. I’m sure this won’t be the last one.”
He was right. This was just one small piece of art that I was sure would grow over time. I relished in each long, painful scratch across my skin. Every second feeling more and more complete.
