Chapter Fifteen
Lyriope
“We won’t need an appointment?” I ask as we walk into a small shop that is off one of the busier streets.
“We’re good,” Nick says, as he strides into the shop, cane in one hand, me in the other. His swagger as he enters gives me a strength and a confidence I never knew I could have. I almost feel the need to walk with a different cadence to my usual footsteps as well.
“Let me guess. You own the tattoo shop, too?” I ask.
He chuckles. “No, but not a bad idea.”
He begins speaking in Italian—which shouldn’t have surprised me in the least bit—to the girl behind the counter greeting us. They chat for several moments, and then she leaves.
“You didn’t tell me you could speak Italian,” I say.
“I haven’t told you a lot of things.”
A few moments later, a man walks out, covered in tattoos from head to toe, his ears gauged, piercings on every spot possible to pierce, and shakes Nick’s hand. “Nick! Long time no see.”
“Long overdue, my friend,” Nick says, moving to the side to introduce me. “This lovely lady and I would like some of your art on our bodies.”
My mouth opens in protest. “Me? I thought you wanted the tattoo.”
Nick smiles as if saying “you’re cute,” and then returns his attention to the tattoo artist. “Both of us.”
It’s not like this is the first time I’ve walked into a tattoo shop. I have a tattoo of flowers that run up my spine. The difference, however, is it took me months and months of agonizing decisions over a design. I didn’t act spontaneously, nor did I go into the choice after having drunk several glasses of Prosecco and being drunk on Italy in general.
The tattoo artist turns to the lady at the counter and says something in Italian. She nods and walks over to the scheduling book.
“You’re a busy man, I see,” Nick says. “I appreciate you taking the time for us and rescheduling all your clients.”
“Are you kidding? I owe my success to you. Ever since you allowed me to put the picture of the Jabberwocky I gave you on your back in the tattoo magazines, I can barely keep up.”
“Well, you deserve it, Mateo. It’s one of my favorite pieces. At least until today. Today’s tattoo will top them all.”
We all walk into a private room in the back. It looks like any other room in a tattoo shop. A large black leather chair, pictures of other tattoos all over, but there is one thing that is different. There are plants everywhere. And I mean every possible square inch one could be squeezed. It’s like walking into a forest. A forest with splashes of bright colors all around. I can almost smell the extra oxygen the plants are giving.
“So what do you have in mind for today?” Mateo asks.
Nick reaches for a pad of paper and a pen and begins writing something down. He hands it to Mateo and says, “I want you to ink these words on me. But don’t sign the name.”
Mateo nods. “Free hand?”
“I trust you,” Nick says.
Nick pulls out a chair for me as Mateo sets up. He then takes a seat in the leather chair and gives me a genuine smile. One with his eyes. He then removes his shirt and points to a small area on his upper bicep. “No scars here, which is why I want this tattoo in this spot.”
My chair isn’t close enough to see what Mateo is tattooing, and I consider getting up and hovering to see, but don’t want to make the man uneasy. Especially since he’s free handing. I’m also nervous for my own tattoo and have no idea what I want. I’m scanning the art on the wall to try to come up with some idea.
It doesn’t take Mateo long before he says, “Finished. No name?”
“Oh I want a name,” Nick says. “Give the gun to Lyriope. I want her to sign the name.”
My attention snaps back to Nick. “Wait… what?”
“I want you to tattoo the name,” Nick says casually but with firmness laced in the words.
“What name? Me?” None of this is making sense.