It was in techno-colours and it scared me silly. But it was now top of my bucket list.
My best friend, Pamela, had started with antlers in the small of her back, then added paw prints on the side of her neck in memory of Patch. She had bells on her fingers and rings on her toes and now in a spiky script the words Mind over Matter trailed over her collarbone like a loose strap peeking from a bodice of blooms. She’d just set up her own salon. Pam-too Tattoos, she called it.
“It has to be easy to hide,” I said tracing my fingers over a three-dimensional flower on the design I’d plucked. “I want to swim topless with nobody knowing.”
Pamela stroked my cheek. “It’ll take a couple of sittings. Go lie on the table now.” I breathed in deeply and watched as she took out her colour gun and inserted a needle.
“Relax,” she said, then paused.
This wasn’t her first time. She would have told me. Surely?
“Let’s get started,” she whispered.
I closed my eyes. I had to trust her. She was, after all, wearing the T-shirt. Had been there. Done it herself.