Covet Thy Neighbor

ID and stuff.”
    “Yeah. And this is the Hold Harmless.”
    He rolled his eyes. “This is way too much paperwork. I want a tattoo, not a car.”
    “And I want to stay in business long enough to retire as something other than a bum.” I pointed at the form. “No ink on there? No ink on you.”
    “Why? I know what I want.”
    “Yeah, but how do I know you won’t sue me if it gets infected, or you wind up with hepatitis?” I gestured at the form. “I close in an hour, buddy. You want any ink tonight, read it and sign it.”
    “Max,” Darren said to the kid. “This all means he’s running a responsible, safe shop. That’s why I brought you here. Just fill out the forms.”
    “This is the guy that did yours, right?” Max asked.
    Darren nodded. “Yeah, he did. And I had to fill out the same form.”
    The kid sighed, but then started reading the form.
    I turned to Darren again. He gave another apologetic shrug. He had to know as well as I did that this kid was nowhere near mature enough to get inked, and he sure as shit hadn’t given nearly enough consideration to his design.
    “Here.” The kid slapped the paper on to the counter. “Now can we do this?”
    “Ready when you are. Have a seat.”
    He followed me to my workstation behind the counter. His sleeve was loose enough and the desired location low enough I just pushed up his sleeve and clipped it into place. Then I prepped his skin and put on the stencil.
    Once the stencil was on, I pointed at the mirror. “Go take a look. Make sure it’s exactly where you want it.”
    He got up and went to the mirror. Grinning at his reflection, he said, “Yeah. Yeah, that’s what I want.”
    “Before we get started,” I said, “why don’t we see if you can handle the pain?”
    Max laughed. “It ain’t that bad.”
    “Isn’t it?”
    He smirked at my sleeve. “If it is, then you’re an idiot.”
    “Or I just have a higher pain tolerance than most.”
    He turned toward Darren. “Yours wasn’t bad, was it?”
    Darren shrugged. “I told you it was pretty intense.”
    Our eyes met briefly. His face colored a little, and I shifted my attention back to getting my equipment ready. Yeah, his tattoo had been intense, but the pain had nothing to do with it.
    “Whatever.” Max sniffed derisively again. “I can take it.” He gestured at the piercings on his face. “Bring it on.”
    “All right.” I picked up the needle and turned it on. “No ink this time. Just seeing how well you handle the pain.”
    “Whatever, man.”
    I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as I brought the needle up to the inside of his upper arm, ready to press the tip against his skin. He wasn’t the first invincible punk to come wandering into my shop, and he wouldn’t be the last. He also wouldn’t be the first to run out crying, which I predicted in three . . . two . . .
    “ Ow! ” he shrieked.
    One, motherfucker .
    He recoiled, pressing his arm to his side like a broken wing and holding up his other hand.
    I held up the needle, which was still buzzing. “Ready for the ink?”
    “No!” He pulled back even farther. “No, I, um . . .” He snatched the clips off his shirt and smoothed his sleeve over the stencil. “Forget it. I changed my mind. I don’t want it.”
    “You sure?” I asked.
    “ Yes. ” He flew up out of the chair and backed away from me. “Let’s get out of here,” he muttered to Darren.
    Darren didn’t say a word. He just followed the kid toward the door. On the way, though, he turned back and mouthed, “Thank you.”
    I just shook my head and laughed.

    As I was closing the shop, Darren pulled in and parked next to my truck. My heart sped up as his engine quieted down.
    He opened the car door. “Hey. Um, I wanted to say thanks again. For earlier.”
    “No problem,” I said. “So did you really think I was going to tattoo him?”
    “Well, I didn’t know what choice you had.” He stepped on to the curb beside me. “Sorry I put you in that position, though.”
    “Nah, don’t worry about it.” I opened the door to the stairwell and gestured for him to go ahead. “Probably better you brought him to me than some of the shady artists in town.”
    “That’s why I did it.”
    “So, where did you run into this kid, anyway?”
    “My church has an outreach program for LGBT kids who’ve been thrown out of their homes.”
    My heart flipped over. “They have a . . . really ?”
    He stopped at the top of the stairs, moving aside so I had