Gone in a Cloud of Smoke

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I could not help but wince as the tattooed woman with black hair put the needle into my left tricep. I craned my neck backwards and clutched onto the leather chair I was lead into.

“You alright, man?” my friend asked, leaning forward in his swivel chair on my right side.

I cursed under my breath.

“I don’t know what you just said,” he snorted. “But I didn’t think it hurt that much.” He pulled the sleeve of his black v-neck up to reveal his tricep tattoo of a thinly drawn compass that was in front of a lighter, detailed star.

“Shut up, Vinny.”

The woman mixed the needle with a crimson color before jabbing it back into my flesh. “You have an interesting accent,” she purred, brown eyes wide from delight. “Where are you from?”

“Russia,” I said through my teeth.

“Ooh,” she curled her pink lips into a bit of a smile as she worked on my arm. “You’re a cutie, I must say.”

I gave her a crooked smile before clearing my throat. “I am seventeen.”

The woman frowned in response and muttered something to herself. She was maybe in her early twenties.

“What are you getting done anyway?” Vincent asked, craning his neck forward to look at what the woman was etching into me.

“You will see when it’s done.”

~~~

It turned out as a crimson and black star that seemed to be three-dimensional, the Russian word for strength etched in white ink in the middle of the star. Surrounding the star was a grey cloud of smoke with thin strokes of black mixed into it.

“Looks classy,” Vincent chuckled as I poked at the reddened art.

“It’s going to hurt a little,” the tattoo artist informed me as we were about to leave after paying.

I nodded and gave her a little smile. “I should be fine, thank you though.”

I could just have my father make some pain medicine if it would end up being vital.

~~~

The new ink was just barely covered by the sleeve of my t-shirt as we stepped out from the shop and into the brisk chill of nightlife. It had been two hours since I left the house.

“When do you have to be home?” Vincent asked as we made our way towards the entertainment area of the city, poking a bit at his tattoo as he walked.

“I should be getting home.”

“Already? Come on!”

“We have school tomorrow,” I reminded him, remembering that the both of us were to be awake at six the next morning.

Vincent groaned, tossing his head back in a way that flipped his hair. “Fine, I can hang around home.”

I chuckled a bit at his reaction before turning around to face him. “I will see you tomorrow though.”

“’Kay, bye.”

“Goodnight.”

~~~

Vincent and I turned separate ways to get back to our apartments, leaving me to roam the bustling streets on my own. The sky was black and fogged, chilled with nightly temperatures and lit up by the neon brightness of downtown. My shoulders brushed against those of lovely tourists and locals with nothing to wake up early for. They were fully aware and sane without alcohol or drug consumption, and the drivers on the streets were more controlled than they would have been ten years before. With all potentially harmful substances being banned, the city seemed safer. Those striving to evade the law either stole from the hospital if they were inclined enough or visited my father.