I Hate You More

I'm Not Saying Shit

Harlen (her daytime outfit on the left^)

I wiped the end of my tattoo gun before wiping my clients bicep, one last time, "What do you think?"

I handed her a mirror and watched the smile take over her face, "I love it."

"Hell yeah dude," I smiled back to her as I held my hand up, and received a high-five from the woman sitting in front of me, "alrighty so, what I'll have you do, whenever your ready, is head up to the front desk."

I paused my instructions to look towards the front desk, "Looks like Jamie is up there now. She'll get you set up with the aftercare instructions. It's pretty basic stuff just staying out of water for at least 24 hours, applying cream every so often, stuff like that. She'll also get you checked out."

"Awesome," The woman grinned as she hopped off the tattoo be, allowing me to disinfect it, "thank you so much!"

"No problem. Have a great day!" I threw the rag I was using back into the bucket of disinfectant that was sitting at my station.

"You too!" She nodded before walking to the front of the shop.

I finished cleaning up my stuff. I truly loved my job. I loved using art to help people love themselves more than they already did. Tattoos are a form of expression. Anything revolving your physical appearance is a way to express who you are, and it's truly a beautiful thing.

"Hey harls," Phoebe cooed innocently as she sat down on my tattoo bed, "you know you're my bestest friend in the whole wide big world right?"

"First of all, I just cleaned that bed so, hop off you ass," I chuckled swatting her with the towel I just used to dry the tattoo bed off, "second of all, What do you want?"

Phoebe bounced off the bed, and she must've looked up and saw that the customer had left because her next statement was a shout.

"I think we should all go out tonight!"

"No." I said immediately, pulling a groan from all three of them.

"Oh come on," Jamie sighed, "you never want to have fun with us."

"It's not that I don't want to," I sighed, "trust me I would love more than anything to get wasted and forget about all my responsibilities, but there's no one to watch Gigi."

"What about your dad?" Renee spoke up.

My dad. Hmm. For some reason, leaving Gianna with my dad seems like not a great idea.

"Uh," I scratched my neck, "he works crazy hours."

"Well, where is she at right now?" Phoebe wondered.

"Her friend's house. I dropped her off before coming here."

"Did you take the scooter?"

"What do you mean did I take the scooter," I scoffed, "of course I took the fucking scooter."

I bought a baby blue vespa about a month ago, and have been dying to use it. Unfortunately, I have nowhere to go. Thank god my seven year old sister has more of a social life than I do.

"Well," Phoebe walked to my bag and took out my phone, and tossed it to me. Thankfully, I have ninja reflexes so, I caught that shit with ease, "call her friend's mom, and have her spend the night. It's a Saturday, and you will have a life."

I dialed the number that I had Gianna give me when I dropped her off, and sat through about three rings before I heard a voice on the other side, "Hello?"

"Hi," I said awkwardly, "is this Angie, Brielle's mom?"

"Yeah, who is this?"

"This is Harlen, Gianna's older sister."