Page 3 of Depraved

“Six.”

“Whatever. My point is, you’re finally getting a tattoo, and now you expect me to not ask questions? Are you insane?”

I pulled the rubber band from my wrist and tied my hair in a high ponytail. “I’m serious, Red. No questions.”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “Okay, fine. Let me see it?” She rolled her eyes and held out her hand.

I pulled a piece of paper out of my denim jacket, reluctantly placing it in her palm. No one knew Red the way I did, and I knew once she saw the drawing I wanted inked, her head was going to explode with a million questions.

Red folded it open, and I watched as a giant question mark formed right above her forehead. “Are you serious?”

“Very.”

“But wh⁠—”

I held up a finger, silencing her. “Nah-ah. No questions.”

“Come on!” She stomped her wedge-heeled boot. “How can you expect me to not have questions now?”

“Oh, I don’t expect you to not have questions. I expect you not to ask them.” I winked at her, which only seemed to irk her more.

She pursed her red lips, green eyes swimming with curiosity. “Fine,” she conceded. “Now, go sit your ass down so I can torture you with a needle.”

I let out a laugh, trying to mask how nervous I was. This was my first tattoo, and I had no idea what to expect. Plus, I didn’t have a great relationship with needles. But who did?

I sat on the chair and eyed Red with suspicion. “You’re going to make this as painful as possible, aren’t you?”

“Can I ask a question?”

“No.”

“Then, yes. Yes, I am.”

Red busied herself tracing the image on a piece of stencil paper while I grew more nervous by the second.

“One,” I said, and Red slowly turned to face me. “You can ask one question.”

Red bit her lip, green eyes glancing all around the room while I heard the wheels turning in her head. “Okay, I do have one question.”

“Yeah?”

“And it’s by far the most important question I can ask right now.”

“Yes?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You better give me the truth.”

“Of course.”

Red scooted closer, her face hard with an immense amount of seriousness. “So, my question is…does your mom know you’re getting this tattoo?”

The heaviness of the moment lingered for a split second before I burst out laughing. “Are you serious? Is that your question?”

Red shrugged. “It’s a legit, important question, my friend.”

I snickered. “No, Red. My mom doesn’t know. And she won’t know either.”

Red threw her hands in the air. “Are you trying to fucking torture me?”