Page 1 of Maggie

Chapter 1

Maggie

“Come on. It’ll be fun,” Jade, Lovely Oblivion’s rainbow-haired drummer, begged. “Please? We can all get the band logo. They take walk-ins. It’s a bonding experience.”

The five members of female rock band Lovely Oblivion sat crowded into the back of a limo provided by their record label. They were on their way to a hotel after a concert, and Jade wanted them to get matching tattoos.

“I don’t know, Jade. I don’t have any tattoos,” Maggie said. She tucked her soft, purple hair behind her ear. Their lead singer, Bex, had convinced her to restyle her normally long, dark hair, which was now shoulder length and purple. She didn’t look at all like her normal self — and she wasn’t sure she liked it.

“Oooooh your first one. It doesn’t hurt. I swear. Let’s do this as a group. That way we all have the same one,” Jade said. “Please, please, please, please, please.”

Bex rolled her eyes. “Is it that important to you?” Her short hair was still spiked into a Mohawk after their performance.

“Yes!”

“Does anyone have an objection or absolutely not want a tattoo?” Bex asked.

No one spoke up. Maggie swallowed hard and bounced her knee, nervous.

“Fine,” Bex said. “We’ll get your tattoo.”

“Yes! Thank you!” Jade cheered.

She rolled down the partition between the band and the driver and gave the driver directions.

Soon, the car pulled up in front of an artsy little shop on Main Street. Though it was almost 10 pm, the “open” sign still glowed from the doorway.

Lovely Oblivion’s five band members climbed from the car. They were quite a sight: Bex with her Mohawk, Polly with space buns on top of her head, Lyra with her auburn locks, Jade with her rainbow hair, and Maggie with her purple tresses.

Jade ran around to the driver’s window. Maggie heard her ask, “Hey, can we call you when we’re done? It’d probably be better so the car isn’t out front to attract attention.”

“Sure thing.”

The driver left and the ladies filed into the lobby, which held a reception desk, frames of tattoo options, a couple of comfortable-looking couches, and coffee tables covered with books and fake plants. One wall had a spray painted mural of a mountain scene, which displayed Jack Kerouac’s quote: “Climb that goddamn mountain.” A variety of paintings also decorated the walls, with price tags dangling from strings taped on the sides of the canvases. Amazing art, in many different forms, surrounded them.

The female receptionist stood and greeted them. “Hi, can I help you?” Her skin was covered in tattoos, including stars beside her eyes. She wore a sleek dress and styled her hair like she planned to attend a formal gala.

“We’d like to get matching tattoos of our band logo,” Jade said. She held her phone out so the woman could see. The screen displayed a picture from the band’s merchandise, the words Lovely Oblivion with a heart coming from the V in Lovely. “It would be a small design. There are five of us.”

The receptionist nodded. “Okay. We should be able to fit everyone in tonight. Have a seat, and I’ll let Wylder know you’re here.”

“Thanks,” Jade said.

The bandmates sat on the couches as the receptionist’s heels clicked away from them. Maggie watched her walk up a hallway and take a right, headed toward the buzz of a tattoo machine.

The machine clicked off and Maggie heard the low murmur of voices. Before long, the buzz started again and the receptionist returned to her desk.

“Wylder, our artist tonight, will be with you when he’s finished with his current customer. It will probably be half an hour. Feel free to wait here or come back.” She slid a clipboard with paperwork across the desk. “We also need these forms filled out for each of you.”

Jade crossed the room and picked up the clipboard.

“It’s the standard questionnaire,” she said in a bored voice, like she’d said it a thousand times. “It asks if you have been drinking or have any known clotting disorders, etc.”

Maggie’s stomach fluttered nervously. She’d never had a tattoo before, but she’d heard they could be painful. How embarrassing would it be if she couldn’t sit through the whole thing and only got a partial tattoo?

They filled out the forms and flipped through some books on the coffee table as they waited. Soon, a stunning woman emerged from the tattoo room and walked down the hallway, a bandage covered the left side of her chest and poked from under her V-neck shirt. She exchanged pleasantries with the receptionist, paid for her tattoo, and left.

Damn, Maggie thought. That tattoo artist must feel like one lucky guy. He gets paid to tattoo his art on beautiful bodies like hers, and this time it was on her breasts.

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