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This appears in a pre-2010 issue of Down in the Dirt magazine.
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Down in the Dirt v064

Permanent Ink

Kathleen Fitzsimmons

    Tattoo-O-Rama’s neon glare beckoned. Josh stumbled, his coordination blurred by liquid courage. Tanya rolled her eyes. Another Saturday night amateur.
    “What can I do ya’ for?”
    “I wanna tattoo, the bess—choo—got.”
    “What’s the best you can pay?”
    He produced a crumpled wad of bills. Fantastic creatures danced on the walls in front of him.
    “Let me know when you’re ready.”
    Tanya retreated through the beaded curtain.
    “Huggy Bear is da bomb,” a waiting biker grinned.
    “Huggy Bear,” Josh repeated.
    “Gotta warn you, they don’t call him ‘the Prince of Pain’ for nothin’.”
    “NEXT!” Tanya yelled.
    The machine buzzed like a deranged wasp. Muffled sobs were punctuated by muted shrieks. Josh tucked his knees under his chin and rocked. The biker emerged, his bicep swathed in damp, scarlet gauze. He swayed unsteadily and collapsed.
    “NEXT!”
    Josh trudged through the beads. A furry mountain of a man perched alongside a beaten recliner.
    “What do you want?”
    Josh pulled out a wrinkled photo.
    “Delilah. Here.” He rolled up his sleeve.
    Huggy Bear shoved a folded belt in Josh’s face.
    “Bite down, I can’t focus when it’s noisy. Colors?”
    “‘lack-n-‘lue,” Josh hissed.
    The room swam, wobbly and hot. He felt himself slipping down. The cool tile soothed his cheek.

###


    He awoke alone. He shambled to the kitchen for coffee. A note with her key was taped to the fridge.
    “You are a dumbass. Don’t call.”
    Groggily, he remembered the previous night’s events. Delilah had been standing outside with bags packed when the taxi poured him to the curb. She tipped the cab to wait while she helped him upstairs and into bed.
    He fingered the bandaged folly on his shoulder. She might be out of his life, but she would be under his skin forever.



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