Cassidy and Tattoos
I got my first tattoo at the clubhouse. A Crow-Eater tattooed the words Princess on my arm. The tattoo was fucking pink! I My Dad and Mom had always called me Princess since I'm club royalty because of them and my brother Jax. I had always fucking told them to stop calling me that fucking name because it's a girly name and I was never fucking girly. Though I didn't swear so fucking much when I was kid. If I knew about swearing, I probably would have. That day I had been promised a seat at the fucking table, so I decided to embrace that fucking name. Princess. I was thirteen AND I never got a fucking girly tattoo again.
My second tattoo I got when I was fucking fourteen. I had been prospecting for about two months at the time and thought I was hard-as-nails already. I rode out to the only tattoo shop in Charming. Old man Dick was there, as laid back as ever. He looked up at me and nodded his head.
"What do you want, Cas?" He asked. I smirked.
"I want a tattoo of the first Harley on the lower part of my left arm," I ordered. I handed him a picture that I copied from a library book about Harleys. It was the most detailed picture I could find. Even though it was Xeroxed from a fucking decrepit book, the quality of the picture was pretty goddamn great. Dick grinned as he examined the reference I gave him.
" Sit down on one of these chairs." He playfully ordered. I did as he told. For some fucking reason, the second time was more fucking painful. I guess the novelty of getting a tattoo wore off and I knew that there was more to tattoos than just bragging.
When I was fifteen. I got a tattoo of a real looking Crow on the lower part of my right arm. I wanted to show my dedication of being part of Samcro, but not as a Crow-Eater or an Old Lady. I got the tattoo with Dick who fucking grins like a crazy man whenever he tattooed me. I think he knew I had big dreams for tattoos and trying to fulfill my dreams was like a game he was willing to play.
I got the big Sons of Anarchy tattoo on my back on my sixteenth birthday. The tattoo was done by Happy, one of the few Sons who had great tattoo artist skills. He was visiting from Tacoma. That night was the first and only time I ever got drunk. One of the main fucking reasons for this misstep was because I fucking slept with the Killer of the fucking club.
Biggest goddamn mistake I ever made.
I mean this crazy fucking dude gets smiley faces tattooed one every time he kills anybody. That's disgusting. Or weird. I can't say which. To this day, I regret that decision I made.
Two weeks later I got a tattoo of Samcro on the top of my right arm in old-fashioned letters to show my fucking dedication to the fucking club. Dick hired a new guy named Hector who did my tattoo. He was pretty cool. Though he seemed a little freaked out when he saw my gun. I thought his fear was kinda hilarious in a pathetic kind of way.
When I turned seventeen, I got tattoo of two handguns on the back of the lower part of my arms. I was feeling super badass that day. I needed to remember the feeling of sheer badassery with a tattoo to match my feelings.
"Cas, you're super fucking crazy getting two tattoos in one sitting period!" Henry said, taken aback at how brave I was. But I was not about to come back twice to get a pair of tattoos. I wanted this tattoo done as quickly as possible. After all, how could I wait so damned long for such a fucking great tattoo?
Two months later, I got a tattoo of the Grim Reaper on the upper part of the backside of my right arm. On the other side of my arm, I got the letters SOA in the same fancy script as my Samcro tattoo. I got the tattoo done by Happy. I was because it was really convenient. Owen, Jax, Opie and a bunch of the other Samcro boys were visiting Tacoma so it was the best idea to see him.
"I like Happy as a tattoo artist," I declared just as I was about to get my tattoo, "because he never judges anyone for their taste in tattoos."
"Yeah, like we need any more judgment in our lives," Jax said, and we all agreed.
A month before my eighteenth birthday, I got a fucking a tattoo of two rifles facing each other on my chest right above my breasts. They were fucking awesome! I had just finished my first gun sale where I was the one in fucking charge. Dick was in, thank god. I absolutely fucking hated Sissy Hector.
Wimp. (But he's another story that I should probably leave for another time.)
On the day of my eighteenth birthday, when I knew that Owen was moving to Charming, I got a tattoo of a military girl pin-up riding a motorcycle on one side of my stomach. The tattoo was fucking sexy and badass. I wanted something cool and sexy to show off to Owen. Owen got a tattoo of a pin up me on a bike the minute he saw mine. We both got it at Dick's place by Dick.
"And now we match!" He said with a laugh.
"Damn right," I replied and then kissed him on the cheek.
Three weeks later, I got a tattoo of a machine gun on the other fucking side of my stomach. Hector did this tattoo, but he was getting on my nerves lately. Despite his annoying attitude, I still went to him for ink. He was talented and convenient.
"So why do you have so many guns tattooed on you, anyway?" Hector asked casually as he did some finishing touches on my tattoo.
"I'd like you to kindly shut the fuck up and finish my tattoo."
"Damn, Cas, don't act so pissy with me."
"Then don't act like an asshole." That shut him up quickly enough.
A month later from the tattoo of the machine gun, I went back for a tattoo of my Dyna bike on my left thigh. That was the last fucking time I went to Dick's because me and Hector got into a big fucking fight when I realized he was buying out Dick. Hector fucking ended up with a broken arm and two broken legs, but again, that's probably a story best left untold. It's gruesome and filled to the brim with enough betrayal to make soap operas shamed.
A week before I turned nineteen, I got a tattoo of the fifties bike that I refurnished on my other thigh. A Crow-Eater named Kelly did the tattoo for me. She was really good though not as fucking great as Happy or Dick. Poor thing needed some practice
On the day I turned nineteen, I got a tattoo of Dad on the lower part of my right leg. I also got a tattoo of Jax on my left leg. The tattoos were of their whole bodies. Dad and Jax were wearing their cuts, one of their shirts, jeans and tennis shoes. You could even see bits of their tattoos! I wanted that level of detail in my tattoo. After all, you can't have a portrait of the King and Prince of Samcro without their tattoos. Tattoos were like a part of bikers, and you could never forget that.
Happy did that fucking tattoo. He is so fucking awesome. Though I will never fucking tell Owen what happened between me and Happy because…well you'll fucking know. Gossip always comes back to chomp you in the ass, I guess.
A few days later, I got my Mom and Tara tattooed on the other side of the leg where their old men are tattooed. Mom was wearing one of her typical outfits and you could see her crow tattoo. Tara was wearing a tank top, jeans and one of her leather cuff links. I fucking love my family and need to fucking show them. Happy hadn't left yet so he did the tattoos.
On Owen's birthday, I got a tattoo of Owen on the other side of my thigh where my Dyna bike was tattooed. Owen wore his cut, a shirt, and jeans with tennis shoes. Plus some of his fucking tattoos though I beat him in the tattoo area. He fucking loved it. I got Kelly to tattooed that leg. She did a fucking awesome job.
A day before we got married, I got a tattoo of Thomas one the other side of my red fifties bike tattooed thigh. Thomas was my younger brother who fucking died when he was six. I got a picture of him a few months before he died, so that was what the tattoo was based on. Kelly did the tattoo. She fucking cried through it. I have to fucking admit that I got a little bit teary, too.
The next year, on our first wedding anniversary, I got a tattoo of the rosary Owen gave me when I got injured. I got that tattoo done by Kelly at her house so that Owen wouldn't find out until I showed him. He went fucking crazy then got the same tattoo on his neck.
A couple of months later we adopted Gregory, whose father was Owen's dead cousin. Rogue robbers killed Owen's cousin, which was sick fucking news. A month after Gregory came to live with us; I got a tattoo of his name on the side of my right arm in old-fashioned letter like Jax has on his arm and chest of Abel and Thomas. Gregory who is three years old that my tattoos were the coolest thing ever and loved that I got a tattoo that represented him. He asked me when he could get his first tattoo. I told him not until he turned eighteen. I'm not going to let him fucking rush his childhood like I did. Though I wouldn't take a minute back.