Covet Thy Neighbor

mean?”
    “Some of them.” I faced the computer again and continued resizing and adjusting his design while I spoke. “The backs of my arms are a bitch to get to, and I’m not very good at tattooing with my left hand, so I’ve had other artists work on those. If I ever get around to figuring out what I want for my back piece, I’ll have someone else do that too.”
    “Someone to get those hard-to-reach spots?”
    “Basically.”
    “But you’ve . . . you’ve actually done some of it. Yourself.”
    I nodded. “Yep.”
    “That must take some serious concentration.”
    “It’s not too bad.” I clicked Print and stood to pick up the stencil when it came off the printer. “Really, you start tuning out the pain after a while. The endorphins kick in, and it’s not as intense unless it’s a really sensitive spot.”
    I swore Darren lost a little color.
    “What qualifies as a sensitive spot?” Then color rushed back into his face. “Er, I mean, when it comes to tattooing. I—you know what I mean.”
    I chuckled. “Anything right over a bone can get a little tender.”
    “What about . . .” He reached back, eyes losing focus as he prodded below his neck.
    “I’m not going to lie,” I said. “It might get a bit sensitive when I’m right over your spine.”
    He shuddered.
    “But that spot’s really not too bad. Not compared to, say”—I pointed at the underside of my upper arm, which was completely inked—“a place like that.”
    “That’s a sensitive spot?”
    I nodded. “Very. Lane doesn’t think so, says it barely tickles on him, but I damn near had to chew on a stick while my friend worked on this part.”
    “That’s encouraging.”
    “You’re not getting tattooed there, genius. You’ll be fine.”
    “So you say.”
    “And you must trust me, or you wouldn’t be doing this. Right?”
    He held my gaze for a moment. “Fair point.”
    I inspected the freshly printed stencil. Then I held it out to him. “How’s this? It’s a little bigger than what you had, and I’ll clean up the details as I go, but . . .”
    He held it in both hands. Then he nodded and handed it back. “Perfect.”
    “All right, then. Have a seat.” I set the stencil down at my workstation. “Shirt off.”
    Darren regarded the chair for a moment before he pulled off his jacket and T-shirt. I scooted the massage chair closer to my equipment, and gestured for him to sit with his arms over the back.
    “That comfortable?” I asked. “You’re going to be sitting there a while, so speak up if it isn’t.”
    “So far, so good.” He watched as I gathered some gloves, bandages, and a small tub of Vaseline. “You sure you’re not setting up for a medical procedure?”
    “To hear the health department tell it,” I said as I pulled on my gloves, “that’s exactly what I’m doing. This does take a few minutes, but . . . gotta keep it hygienic.”
    “Makes sense.” He quirked an eyebrow. “So I didn’t need my shirt off quite yet?”
    I glanced at him and grinned. “The artist can’t see his canvas until he’s ready to paint?”
    Darren laughed. “I didn’t say that.”
    “Actually, there is a practical purpose for having you take it off now.” I put some Vaseline on the underside of the ink cups so they wouldn’t easily tip over after I set them on the paper towel. “It gives you a chance to get used to ambient temperature.” I waved a gloved hand at the vent above us. “By the time I get started, you won’t have any goose bumps or hypersensitivity from your skin being newly exposed to the air.”
    “Interesting.”
    He watched me prep my station, and as I put fresh plastic over the gun, he paled.
    Just to keep his mind off the torture device, I said, “I’m curious about something.”
    He rested his chin on his folded arms, and his eyes kept flicking toward the gun. “Yeah?”
    “Now, it’s been a while since I’ve cracked open a Bible, but isn’t there something in there about not getting inked?”
    “In the same section as everything about eating shellfish, wearing mixed fibers, and shaving, yes.”
    “And about lying with other men, right?” It came out before I could stop it, and I cringed against the impending awkwardness.
    Darren laughed, though. “Yeah, that’s in there too. And completely misinterpreted.”
    “Oh, yeah?”
    “Find me an anti-homosexuality quote in Scripture that isn’t tied to ritualistic prostitution or ritualistic purity and we’ll talk.” He