Not in My Job Description

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  An hour and a half later, we pulled into the parking lot at Luna Park.

  "Let's ride The Cyclone," Nate said, not giving me a lot of options. "I've been to Coney Island a couple of times and it has the distinction of causing a mute person to regain their voice, so I think it's perfect for you."

  "That's very reassuring." I said as he led the way to the coaster that was already scaring me.

  Being a Wednesday, and early afternoon, the lines were pretty decent. Before I knew it, I was climbing in the car. A minute and fifty seconds later I was climbing out shaky legged. It wasn't really clear if any of my body parts were where they were supposed to be. I had a feeling at least a few of my internal organs had found new homes.

  "Oh my God," I exclaimed. "That was so cool. Let's do it again."

  Three rounds later I finally had enough. What a rush. It didn't go as fast as I did on the bike, but the turns and elevation changes made it even more exciting.

  "I'm pretty sure you'd be diagnosed as an adrenaline junkie, my little butterfly. We better go grab your lunch and head over for the tattoo. We're going to run out of time, if we want to go shopping, which I hope you aren't trying to get out of. Personally, I don't care what you wear, but it'd be a good idea to blend in."

  "I'm not trying to get out of anything." I stuck out my tongue at him. "I'm just trying to enjoy the day."

  "Don't worry, we can bring your parents here this weekend. That's only if you live through tonight, so if you've decided you don't have anything else to live for, just think of how much fun we'll have."

  "You and my parents in the same room isn't something I want to happen in this lifetime. Or the next ten." The only thing his incentive was giving me was more material for my nightmares.

  We walked around Coney Island until we found someone who could cook us some steaks. We ordered it to go and while it cooked, we walked around to find someone selling Red Bulls. Nate got me one and we headed back for the steaks. On the way, I opened the Red Bull and took a sip.

  "That's not what I was expecting," I said as I spit some of it back out. "I'm getting jittery just having swallowed a couple drops. I'm going to count that as drinking a Red Bull, because there is no way I can finish that. Maybe if I had some experience with sugary drinks and caffeine it would be different, but to go from none to explosive amounts is not for me."

  Nate laughing hysterically didn't help calm the nerves coming alive throughout my body. I found a garbage can and deposited the can. We picked up our steaks and were able to find a place to sit. I poured a small amount of steak sauce on my plate. After cutting it into bite size pieces, I tried a bite.

  "Mmm. This is cooked perfectly. I've had steak before, but it's been a really long time," I said as I savored another bite.

  "I'm a meat and potatoes guy, so I tend to eat steak once or twice a month." Nate was already halfway through his meat.

  When we finished up, we threw away our garbage and made it back to the bikes.

  "The tattoo place isn't far from here," Nate said. "While you're talking to the artist about what you want, I'll find your container of ice cream and you can eat it while you're getting the tattoo. Depending on how big your tattoo is, it might take a while."

  "That's perfect. I love multitasking." We started up the bikes and I followed him about a mile away.

  He pointed out the shop as we came to a stop. "Okay, now for the big question. What kind of ice cream?"

  "It has to be something good if I'm eating that much. Let's go with pistachio, if you can find it."

  We split up, and I walked a little apprehensively towards the tattoo parlor. It looked a little out of place with the glowing signs promoting tattoos and piercings. On the left there was a lawyer's office and a hardware store on the right.

  I opened the door and saw a heavily tattooed woman sitting behind a counter. She looked up and smiled. I could tell she pasted the same smile on her face anytime someone walked through the door.

  "Hi, what can we do for you today?" she asked.

  "Hi, my name's Avery Clavens and I was told I could be fit in today for a tattoo."

  "Oh yeah, Rick's friend. Terry is free for the next couple hours, so this works out great. Did you have any idea what you want?"

  "Yes, I want a rainbow colored throwing knife that matches this," I said as I pulled a knife out of my pocket sheath, "on my side with butterfly wings coming out of it."

  "You want it to be to size?" she questioned.

  "No, it doesn't have to be. I don't think we have enough time to make it that big."

  "Okay, can I borrow the knife to take back to Terry and tell him what you're looking for? He'll do a sketch and you can see if it's what you want."

  "Sounds good. I'll look around at the different displays." I kind of wanted to talk to the artist myself, but I didn't think my description was too difficult to figure out.

  She left and came back a few minutes later while I was admiring some really wicked skull tattoos. If I wasn't set on my idea, I would've seriously considered something a little scarier.

  "He said it wouldn't take but a few minutes and he should be out," she said.

  "That's great. And he doesn't think it will take too long?" I asked. I hadn't mentioned I was pressed for time.

  "Nah, it should only take an hour and a half or so," she replied. Looking over her colorful skin, I trusted she was an expert.

  After only a couple more minutes, a very large, pit bull-looking bald man came out. He didn't have as many tattoos, but he made up for it in piercings, ears all the way up, eyebrows, lip four times and nose.

  "I'm guessing you'd be Avery," he said, reaching his hand out to shake.

  For a shy person his presence was beyond intimidating. "Hi," I said very simply.

  "Here's your knife back. What do you think of this design?" He produced a piece of paper that looked exactly like I envisioned, a mini version of my knife with wings coming out of it in shades of blue, purple and green.

  "It's perfect."

  "Great. Come on back and we'll figure out where you want it and get it traced on your body."

  I turned to the lady behind the counter and said, "I have a friend who ran to get me some ice cream, he'll be here shortly."

  "I'll bring him back when I see him." She was already back at her post, flipping through a magazine.

  Once in the back, I lifted my top up a little on my right side. "How about if we put it here?" I asked, indicating a couple inches above my pants and slightly off center, so one wing would wrap around my back a little.

  "That'll work well. You can leave your shirt on if you tuck it up under your bra. When you have it in place, sit facing the chair over there and I'll get things ready."

  I did as instructed and as I sat down, Nate walked in with my ice cream and a pair of spoons.

  "Found it," he said proudly.

  "It's probably a good idea to wait until Terry gets started."

  "You do understand you're sharing it with me, right? I won't eat a lot, but it'd be mean not to share with me since I've been such a big help all day. Plus, I have to feed it to you so you don't move around too much."

  "I don't imagine it's going to be easy for me to eat, but as long as it's empty by the time we leave here, it will count," I replied.

  Terry came over and taped a tracing of the tattoo on my side. He grabbed a tattoo gun and positioned his chair where he was comfortable.

  It felt like I expected it to, a needle being stabbed into my skin over and over. Thankfully, my pain tolerance had always been high. When I became used to the sensations, and was sure I wouldn't cause issues moving around minimally, I turned to Nate and said, "Ice cream time."

  We ate the ice cream as Terry continued his work. The coldness of the ice cream ended up being more difficult to deal with than the little pokes in my skin. My brain kept icing over and I had to take a number of breaks. An hour and ten minutes later, Terry finished wiping some ink
off and claimed I was all done.

  Nate switched sides so he could look at the finished product. "It suits you perfectly, my little butterfly." I stood up and looked in the mirror. I couldn't help but agree, even if I hadn't gotten the butterfly because of what he called me. That was just a wacky coincidence.

  CHAPTER 19

  Just a little black dress