Author's Note: I have never gotten a tattoo myself, and while I tried to do some research, if there are any inaccuracies/unsafe practices I accidentally included, please let me know and I'll fix them!
This may turn into a multi-chapter thing (I have a few more ideas on the topic), but admittedly I'll have to see how much time and motivation I have available.
I believe this still falls under the "Teen" rating according to the ratings description, but if any disagree I can change it to "M" to be on the safe side.
Hope you enjoy!
Cat came with me to get my first tattoo. It's not anything I've ever told anyone, and I made sure she didn't mention it. The girl doesn't really know how to keep secrets, but I've learned how to handle her. Distraction was better than prohibitions, and I kept the topic of conversation away from anything closely related to skin ink insofar as I could.
"Jade! Jadey! They're putting my brother in that place again because he started cutting open our dog and telling me that I should—Aaaangh no it's bad I can't say it!" Cat was screaming into the phone when I picked it up, that panicked edge to her voice I knew too well.
"Shut up, Cat, I'm here!" My growls scared her a little bit, which was what I wanted. Otherwise she would've just continued screaming. "Shhh, there's a good girl. You want to go somewhere fun tonight?"
"That's what they said when they took my brother away to that special place where they tied him to the bed." She sounded petulant, wary. It was still better than before.
"Not that kind of fun. We'll both have fun. No drinks, no pills, nothing you don't want to do. I'll even take you to the Gorilla Club after if you don't like my fun place, and you can ride the rabbit. Deal?"
"Deal!"
I let out a small sigh of relief. There was her perky self again. "Bring your fake ID. Don't forget, Cat, if you want to ride the rabbit."
"I won't! I'll go find it right now!" A click marked the end of the call, before I could tell her I would meet her at the usual spot in half an hour. Oh well.
With a slight shrug, I slipped my PearPhone into my bag and lifted the strap over my shoulder. My house keys were on the dresser—this was all before I was old enough to drive legally, and grand theft auto plus driving without a license, even if it was just my mom's car, wasn't the sort of thing I cared to have on my record—and I snatched them up before making my way downstairs.
"Is Mom home?" My little brother was glued to one of his video games with the volume turned way up.
Goddamn, I hate it when people ignore me. Killing the power to the television screen got his attention.
"Heyyy!" He shut his mouth, though, when I turned my glare on him.
"Is. Mom. Home?" I asked again, more quietly, through gritted teeth.
"No." Said with a scowl on his face. "She left a couple of hours ago." With a glance at my bag and jacket, "Where are you going? You're not supposed to be going out this late."
"None of your business. You're not supposed to be up this late, never mind playing—what are you playing?" It actually looked kind of interesting—at least the parts with blades and blood—but I had better things to do.
"Vow of the Brotherhood." One corner of his mouth twitched upward, then came a hesitant "You wanna play with me? It has multiplayer."
With a slight snort—I was still pissed—I shook my head. "Not now. I'm going out with Cat. Mom doesn't hear a word about it, got it?"
"Got it." He nodded once—he knew that otherwise he'd find the disc for one of his precious games snapped in half over my knee, or dissolved in a beaker of acid I'd 'borrow' from chemisty class.
I nodded and plugged the TV back into the wall. "See ya. Have fun."
"Thanks," he mumbled as he scooted closer to the TV to boot it back up.
Some people say that city buses suck. I never had any problem with them during the years before I got my driver's license. I go way too many places there's no way in hell my parents would drive me to, and one glare from me is usually enough for the creeps to stay away. I am Jade West, after all.
The stop near the school was our default meeting spot, so I got off there first. Cat wasn't there yet, so I pulled out my phone and searched for nearby tattoo parlors. "Blood, Sweat, and Ink—where we help you make your body your own. Sanitary, professional, and all about you." I tend to read aloud to myself when I'm alone. "Sounds like exactly my kind of place."
A car stopped in front of me, and Cat opened the door. "Heeey Jadey! So where are we going?"
"It's a secret. It'll be a surprise." I winked at her.
"Oooooh! I love surprises!"
"Surprise? What surprise? Can I come with you girls?" Robbie's voice echoed out of the van. I was glad Cat got a ride—for some reason I've never been comfortable with the idea of her riding the buses alone—but that didn't mean my gratitude was boundless.
"NO!" I screamed at him. "Cat, get out of the car. Robbie, whoever the hell is with you, turn around and drive. Now!"
"Okay, okay. We're going." He sounded slightly panicky, and I grinned. He wasn't my friend, which meant that I didn't have to feel guilty about making him jump.
"Damn, girl, you don't have to be so mean." I hated Rex's stupid fake-urban voice.
"Who is this girl, Robbie? Have you been hanging out with her?" A woman spoke as Cat climbed out. "Young lady, are you sure you're fine?"
"No, Mom, she's not my friend! I just… Cat just wanted a ride!" He was babbling a little.
"Bye Robbie's Mom! Thanks for the ride!" Cat shut the door to the car quietly, not responding to the question. Then she turned to me, grinning expectantly.
"Let's go." I jerked my head down the sidewalk and started walking. Cat scampered after me and tried to grab my hand, swinging it back and forth happily. For once I let her. I can be nice sometimes.
I did listen to make sure Robbie's mother drove away, and wasn't following us. She would've ruined my plans for the night.
"My brother said he was looking for puppies inside Sadie." Sadie was the Valentines' pet dog—a giant golden retriever who loved to slobber all over everyone. She kind of reminded me of Cat, actually. "Do puppies really come out of grown up dogs? Doesn't it hurt to have puppies inside of them?"
I remember being completely astounded thinking Cat's parents hadn't given her "the talk" yet. Be that as it may, I wasn't going to be the one to give it to her. I wasn't too clear on the gestation period of dogs, either, but I wasn't going to admit that out loud.
"Yes, puppies live in their mommies for a month or so before they come out."
"Like people babies?"
"Yeah." I wasn't quite sure what to make of the conversation."It reeeaally hurts when they come out. Not the good kind of hurt, they say."
"Yeah, that's what my mom said. About people babies. That's why she said..." Cat looked around and lowered her voice. "That's why she said I should never let a guy put his… thing… down there."
Clapping her hand over her mouth, she squealed. "Oooh, that was so bad to say! Don't tell anyone I said that!"
Relieved that I didn't have to worry about Cat getting accidentally knocked up by some wazzbag, I nodded and grinned at her—well, what passes for a grin for me, anyways. "Don't worry, I won't."
The sign was lit up in neon pink—like one of my highlights at the time. This was the place.
"In here." I tugged on Cat's hand as I pushed the door open.
"Blood? That sounds scary!" She hung back a little, but allowed me to pull her inside.
"It's for me. I'm going to get a tattoo." It was something I'd been thinking about for a while, though I still wasn't sure what I wanted to get inked. Glancing around the place offered lots of options, but they were all too cliché—devils, skulls, butterfllies, snakes, crosses… all very well done, some of them making me catch my breath a little, like the snake devouring a mouse—but cliché.
"Oh, that's so cool! Can I pick it?"
I thought about it for a moment, but she would pick something too girly. And I didn't love her that much. "No."
"But I wanna..."
"NO, Cat! It's my tattoo!"
"You said this would be fun!" Her lower lip trembled. "Pleease?"
"No, Cat. You can watch, though."
"What do they do?"
A young man emerged from the back of the shop. Early twenties, maybe, nice and toned, with tats down both arms—like you'd expect—an eyebrow piercing, and a nose stud in addition to those huge holes ringed with plastic his ears. He could have been hot, but the gauging just killed it for me. Who does that?
"Well, we have a needle that goes in and puts just a little bit of color underneath the first few layers of skin." He smiled as he looked at Cat, and I didn't know whether to like him for being nice to her or glare at him because he seemed like the kind of guy to have that sort of twinkle in his eye.
"Eeeew! That sounds gross. And painful."
"It hurts a little. Some people like it." Here he winked at me. I curled my lip. "So what can I do for you ladies?"
"I want a tat. I'm just not sure exactly what I want yet." I tilted my head up, running my tongue over my lips.
"You a tat virgin? Spur-of-the-moment thing? Breakup?" He tried to stay casual, but it was way too obvious he was fishing. Unfortunately, he looked to old to be scared off by the tactics that worked on insecure high school boys. Plus, him liking me might help him overlook the fact I didn't look quite eighteen like the ID I was going to show if he asked said I was.
Still, I rolled my eyes. "I've never had a tattoo before, but this isn't about a breakup."
"She and Beck have been together for almost two months! Nobody's ever stuck with her that long!" Cat giggles. "Besides me. She likes me."
"Cat!"
She started tapping her heel, which has always been a nervous tic of hers, and I knew she was still more shaken up than she let on. "So you don't like me?"
"You're okay."
She grinned. "I think you should get a butterfly!"
"A butterfly doesn't really seem like your friend's thing..." The guy looked me up and down. Combat boots, dark hair with blue and pink highlights, black clothes, lace choker—I'd teach him to try to predict me.
Besides, my grandfather's dead butterfly and moth collection was kind of cool. Dead butterflies…
"I know what I want. Do you have some paper and a pen?"
"Uh, sure."
I pulled Cat a little closer to me and whispered in her ear. She stepped back and looked at me with a frown. "That's creepy. And sad. The poor butterflies."
"Just do it!" She still stared at me with that same expression. I pat her head, once. "You get to draw my tattoo. You can even make it kind of pretty if you want."
"I guess." Taking the piece of paper and the felt-tipped pen the guy held out, she hunched over the counter and began to draw.
"Everything okay?" He looked a little unnerved now, which pleased me.
"It's all fine." I adjusted my bag on my shoulder. "How much will it cost?"
"That depends on how long it takes. It's a hundred an hour."
I arched one eyebrow. "Kinda expensive."
"If you want it done right..." He shrugged. "Ink isn't cheap. Needles, neither and I hope you're willing to pay for that fact that I can actually do this chiz well."
"All right." I was still a little wary, but it sounded reasonable. I should've done a little more research before coming here, but it wasn't like money was a big deal. I had my own debit card that went into Mom's account, after all. And Dad was paying hefty alimony and child support checks, like a cheating bastard like him deserved. "Give me a guesstimate for a band around the top of the thigh, about yay thick." I gestured with my fingers.
"Maybe four hundred to six hundred. Depending on whether or not you want color."
"Can you just color the butterflies, Cat?" I called. "Not too much."
"Do you like this?" Cat held up the sheet of paper. I stared, then grinned—a real, wide grin this time. Say what you want about Cat, but she has a fantastic eye for visuals, and this was no exception. It was me to a "t". A ring of intertwining brambles, with various moths and butterflies caught on the thorns, wriggling their lives out. "I love it."
Cat squealed happily and jumped up and down.
"That's… a little disturbed. Who hates butterflies?" The guy scratched the back of his neck.
"Can you do it or not?"
"Yeah, I can do it. Uh, I'll need to copy your ID."
I held my breath, slipping Cat a piece of strawberry candy as he inspected it, finally photocopying it and handing it back to me without comment. At least the hundreds I'd had to shell out for it had been worth it.
Cat continued munching the candy happily while the guy set up the equipment. I watched carefully as he washed his hands and unwrapped a new needle out of the single-use packaging, pulling up my skirt and pushing down my stocking a little myself. I don't let anyone touch me any more than necessary. Other people are usually sweaty and slimy, or cold and clammy.
He started trying to make small talk as he wiped down my thigh with alcohol but a "Why are you talking? Stop talking." took care of that.
I let out a small hiss the first time the needle went into my skin—but it was a good kind of pain, the kind that made me feel something, the kind that made me smile, the kind I could stand up to and feel like a badass.
"Oh, Jadey, doesn't that hurt? I can't look!"
The young man—I never got his name—didn't stop or look up, and I gestured for her to come closer. "I'll cover your eyes. I'm fine, Cat."
She let me gently close her eyelids and started humming happily. I was happy with that outcome. She had a good voice and could occupy herself like that for hours. Then she started singing. "The wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round, 'round and 'round, 'round and 'round. The wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round, taking my brother to the doooc-tor!"
So she was still preoccupied with that. The second round ended with "taking Sadie to the doctor". I didn't particularly care about her dog, but I knew she'd be devastated if anything happened to her.
I remember the prick of the needle being almost hypnotic. It was nice, for once, to just sit back and let someone take care of me. To not have to do anything. To just feel. The pain was good. It gave me something to feel besides worry for Cat. I was Jade West—I didn't worry about anyone. I found out later that her parents had forgotten to give her her medicine for "traumatic events" which was why she wasn't as easily distracted as she usually was.
Cat grew restless after about an hour and a half, after which I agreed to play "Cat's Cradle" with her. I always carried a piece of string around just for that. It was something we'd been doing since we were little kids in the local community theater's production of "Annie" together. The name always made her laugh.
"Silly! I'm too big for a cradle! And anyone would fall through that cradle; it's made of string!"
"Well..." I pinched the X's, brought them outside, around, and then up through the middle, spreading my fingers. "No one could sleep on the so-called soldier's bed, either. I'd love watching them fall out of bed and wake up painfully as they hit the ground."
"Nuh-uh! 'Course they couldn't sleep, so they wouldn't try. The soldier's bed is made of string, too, silly! There isn't any wax in these candles, either!" She took the string from me again, reciting her lines in our own little ritual.
Eventually, though, her eyelids started to droop, and I could see the stress of the day coming back to kick in and haunt her. "I'm sleepy."
"Yeah, like that wasn't obvious."
She sort of hunched over in her chair and started snoring quietly. We were a lot alike in that respect. We both fell asleep easily and slept like logs. I think it was one of her escapes.
"Is she gonna—fall over?" The guy gestured with his free hand.
"No, she's fine." I kept my voice low. "Keep your voice down."
"If you say so." He gave her a couple of uncertain glances.
"Focus on my damn tattoo!" I was starting to get pissed again. It happens often.
He stared at me for a moment, then bent back over my leg with a muttered "Dang, girl."
It took another two hours before he set the machine down and grabbed a tube of white cream.
"What's that?"
"Anti-bacterial ointment. Then I'm going to bandage it. Leave the bandage on for at least four hours."
He reached out to start rubbing it in, but I grabbed the tube from him. "I'll do it."
"You haven't washed your hands and I don't want you to move before I put this bandage on."
"Fine." I rolled my eyes as I gave him the ointment back.
"Thank you." I didn't like his tone anymore, but I just wanted to get it over with. He continued to talk as he wrapped a bandage around my thigh—keep it out of sunlight, wash it often, moisturize it often, don't soak it, takes three to six weeks to heal—and I listened, but grudgingly. As soon as he was done I stood, digging around in my purse for my wallet.
He kept looking at me and then at Cat as I swiped my debit card and entered my PIN. "How old is she? Looks like her bedtime was an hour ago."
"None of your business is how old she is. She's had a rough day, okay?"
He held up his hands in a surrender before hesitantly handing me the receipt, which I snatched. Feeling his eyes on me, I walked back to the chair Cat was sitting slumped on, and nudged her. "Wake up. We're done here."
"Blo—wha…?" Cat mumbled, looking up at me, blinking the sleep out of her eyes.
"We're heading out."
"Oh. Are we gonna go ride the bunny now?"
"You look like you're about to fall over. Why don't you just come back to my place and sleep?" The tattoo had taken longer than I expected, and I could tell I'd start getting grumpy if I didn't sleep soon, too.
"Oh. That would be good, too."
She leaned on me on the way home. I made sure she wasn't leaning on my hair—I hate that.
I don't like my mother much. She's never around and coddles my little brother to no end when she is. I hate her less than my dad, though. He's around even less, and married some skank exactly nine years and two months older than me, which means I have to endure her whining and her yappy little dog whenever I'm there. Not like he wants me there. He just kind of tolerates my brother and me when Mom drives us over there spouting some nonsense about "bonding time" with dear old dad.
Like I said, I don't like either of my parents, but if I had to pick, Mom's okay. And she doesn't know all the details about Cat's family, or the sort of crap her brother pulls, but she knows Cat has some issues and is cool with her camping out at our place from time to time. I think she likes me hanging around Cat, thinking it'll "soften me up" or "teach me compassion and gentleness" or some other touchy-feely idiocy. Also, she's learned when not to push me.
I scowled when I saw Mom's car in the driveway and the light on. I was so not in the mood for her bullshit about "not being out at all hours of the night"-like she never did it. But I grit my teeth and unlocked the front door, partially dragging a half-asleep Cat in with me.
"Jade Catherine West!" My mother used her I'm-being-stern-and-pissed voice, which had long since stopped scaring me. "Exactly what did you think you were doing staying out so late and not informing me?" She stood up from the table, where she had papers spread everywhere.
Cat blinked slowly and tried to stand straighter. I ignored my mother's question, laying a hand on Cat's shoulder in a "keep quiet" signal she thankfully seemed to understand. "Cat will be sleeping here tonight. She had a rough evening. Her parents are taking her brother and the dog to their respective hospitals. We're going to go to bed now." It was a declaration, more than anything, as I pulled Cat behind me upstairs.
"G'night Ms. McDonegal!" Cat called to my mother. I didn't look back, but she didn't follow us upstairs. Cat could be useful sometimes.
Of course, I still caught it for coming back so late the next afternoon, after Cat's parents had come and picked her up. And then again when she saw where the debit card was charged to. Of course I didn't show her the tattoo, and she couldn't do much about it all after the fact. It was one more thing that just underlined how much of so-called authority is an illusion. She also told me that I might have a tattoo, but I'd better not get any more tattoos or any piercings. You can probably guess what happened after that.
I tossed Cat some extra shorts and an old t-shirt of mine to sleep in, then went into my bathroom to change the bandage. She followed me in, a little like a lost puppy dog.
I slapped her hand away as she reached out to touch it, though. "It's pretty. It's sad, but somehow pretty."
"Go to sleep."
"Okay."
Within two minutes, I could hear her light little snores—ironically, kind of like a cat's purr. I didn't feel like showering at that hour, so I just washed the place gently with a washcloth and then stole the antibacterial ointment and bandages I needed from the medicine cabinet in Mom's bathroom.
Cat was on the side of the bed I usually slept on, so I dragged her over to the other side before climbing into bed myself.
No, I'm not gay. Two friends can share a bed without doing anything, you know. Besides, I think it's a little obvious how Beck found out about it. I said I didn't tell anyone, didn't I?
