"Alright, hose me down," said Hawk, tossing Miguel a spray bottle of sunscreen lotion before stripping off his shirt and turning around. He tried not to shiver when a cold mist of the lotion hit his back, covering his tattoo in a sheen of protective oil, and he rolled his shoulders out when he felt Miguel rub the spray in. His friend used a firm grip with his hands, which felt surprisingly good, since he didn't linger too long around his spine or use too light a touch. When Miguel finished, Hawk took the spray back and took care of his legs, torso, and face before handing it out for the other boy to use.
Miguel checked the label and grinned. "I think SPF80 is a bit overkill for me. Good for your pasty-ass though," he joked, spraying his arms and legs down and rubbing the lotion in. Even with his complexion, it was better to be safe than sorry, because the sun was beaming hot that day at the beach. His mother had told him to always err on the side of caution, what with the ozone layer being in shambles; and especially when the weather got over 90F without a single shade of cloud in sight for protection.
Sticking the bottle back in the pocket of his swim trunks, Hawk asked him, "Aren't you gonna take your shirt off, too?"
"Nah, I'm good," said Miguel, pinching his thumb and forefinger on his tank top and airing it out a bit. The humidity was killer.
Hawk shook his head. "Dude, open your eyes," he retorted firmly, "don't you see how many babes are out there?" He motioned with his thumb over his shoulder to the beach, where numerous girls were hanging out, either frolicking in the ocean waves, playing beach games, or laying down on towels to get sun tans.
"Oh, is that why you do it, to show off in front of girls?" asked Miguel, stepping off the boardwalk and onto the hot sand. He kicked off his sandals and put them and Hawk's in the beach tote he had strapped over his back. "Should I tell Moon she's got anything to be worried about? You're not a player, are you?" he jested as they walked along the beach.
Beside him, Hawk simply responded, "Just because I'm off the market doesn't mean chicks can't window shop at this establishment. But Moon knows she's the only girl I'd come home to." Seeing the way Miguel smiled and shook his head, he added, "It's you who's back on the market, man. Give them something to admire, you haven't done all that working out for nothing, right? Show them what a Cobra Kai karate champion looks like."
"Maybe some other time," said Miguel, sticking his hands in his swim trunks pockets, curling his toes into the wet sand in the shallow surf. The cool water felt especially good on a hot day like that. Briefly, he thought that maybe it would actually be a good idea to take off his shirt and go for a swim; but convincing Hawk to get his hair wet in public would be like arguing with a brick wall.
Hawk just rolled his eyes at his friend's excuse. "Whatever. At least they'll get to appreciate my tat." That was the best thing about going to the beach for Hawk, getting to show off his back tattoo, the flying raptor with the electric blue mohawk, in front of everyone. It was one of the few places he felt safe walking around without a shirt. What was the point of having some badass ink if he didn't get to display it every now and then? "Uh, speaking of which," he tacked on, suddenly a touch sheepish, "please don't take any pics of my back and put them on Instagram. Don't forget, my parents follow you."
"Wasn't really planning on it." Arching his brows, Miguel looked at him and suggested, "Don't you think maybe you ought to just come clean to them? This kind of thing can eat at you if you let it go on too long. I remember this one time I tried keeping this big secret from my mom, and I just couldn't, the guilt caught up to me. I actually lost sleep over it. I ended up telling on myself, like, a week later. You really think you can keep this a secret for the next several years?"
"Tell my parents about my tattoo?" asked Hawk incredulously. "You're kidding, right?" This was no small secret, it wasn't something inconsequential that his mom and dad would just get over a few days later with a mild slap on the wrist as punishment. This was huge.
"Better to ask for forgiveness than permission," pointed out Miguel with a raised finger. "That's what I've learned. And trust me, I've done a lot of things that have gotten me in trouble with Mom and Ya-Ya, but it was never big enough that they'd literally kill me for it. I bet your parents will be more understanding than you think. I mean, after the shock wears off."
Shaking his head, Hawk stressed to him, "You don't get it, my parents are Jewish."
"What's that got to do with it?" asked Miguel, shrugging his shoulders in confusion. "You guys preach forgiveness is a virtue, too, right?"
"Yeah, uh, we do, but we also got this thing against getting tattoos," explained Hawk, following beside Miguel as they continued to walk the shoreline. "It's one of the commandments."
Miguel's face pinched. "Really?" he asked. "I mean, I haven't been to Mass since Easter, but I'm pretty sure that tattoos aren't mentioned in the Ten Commandments at all. No murder, no stealing, honor your parents, but nothing there about no tattoos."
"That's because we got 613 commandments total," Hawk pointed out, shaking his head again at Miguel's faux pas. He laughed a little under his breath. "Pfft, Ten Commandments, please, get on my level." Of course, not that he or his parents kept all 613 mitzvot, such a task was virtually impossible. His mom and dad weren't even Synagogue-every-Saturday-morning types; excluding holidays, they were lucky if they made Shabbat service once a month. But there were many traditions that his parents did stick to, some of them very fervently, and one of those was the rule against getting permanent tattoos.
He'd gotten his hawk tattoo largely on impulse, and while he loved it more than anything, besides his mohawk, and didn't regret his choice to have it done, it terrified Eli to think what his mother and father would do to him if they ever found out about it.
"613? Holy shit!" exclaimed Miguel with a low whistle, his eyes widening some. "Uh, I don't know, can't you and your parents go and ask your rabbi for forgiveness and then do, like, three Hail Marys; I mean, Hail Moseses, or whatever?"
Hawk busted out laughing so hard, he had to grasp and lean on Miguel's shoulder for support, almost choking on air. Holding his side, his face turning red, he said, "Ha! Oh my God, that was the most Catholic thing I've ever heard in my life! Oh shit, I'm gonna collapse a lung!"
Shrugging innocently once more, Miguel grinned and said in his defense, "Dude, I don't know how you guys deal with these kinds of things. I'm just a sheltered Roman Catholic Latino kid from Reseda. Throw me a life-preserver, I'm drowning here!"
Patting him on the shoulder affectionately, Hawk beamed and said, "'Three Hail Moseses,' shit, man, I gotta treat you to a snow cone for that one! You just made my day!"