Page 7 of The Vegas Rerun
He raises an eyebrow.
"Define stupid," he says.
I laugh, grabbing his hand and pulling him along the sidewalk.
"You’ll see," I tell him. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t involve any little white chapels.”
As we make our way back onto the main strip, the streets are still packed, tourists stumbling from casino to casino, laughter and music spilling out from open doors. We weave through the crowds, our fingers still loosely linked. It feels natural. Too natural. But I don’t let myself think about that now. Just like I don’t let myself think about the way electric tingles spread out from where our hands touch, or the way he squeezed my hand slightly when I mentioned the little white chapels.
I lead us towards a tattoo parlor I know. It’s tucked between a souvenir shop and a dive bar, and it’s the kind of place that stays open all night for people exactly like us -half drunk and chasing the thrill of bad decisions. The neon Tattoos and Piercings sign flickers in the window, and I turn to Joshua with a grin.
"This is your idea of something that’s only a little bit stupid?" he asks, eyeing the building.
"Come on, it’s not that bad," I tease him. "It’s just a little needle. And it’ll be something to remember the night by. Unless you’re scared of course."
He scoffs.
"I’m about to run a billion-dollar company. If I’m not scared to do that, then I’m definitely not scared of getting a tattoo."
I smirk.
"Prove it."
“Really? You’re daring me to do it?”
I nod my head, waiting for him to back out, but he gestures for me to go inside, and he doesn’t hesitate as I push open the door. The place is quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. Aguy with stretched earlobes and a full sleeve of tattoos looks up from behind the counter.
"Walk-ins?" he asks.
"Yep," I say. "We want matching tattoos."
Joshua raises an eyebrow at me.
"Matching?" he queries.
I shrug.
"Yeah, why not? Just something small. It’s not like I’m asking you to get my name on your forehead."
He laughs and holds his hands up in mock surrender.
"Alright, alright, you win. What are we getting?"
I tap my chin, thinking, then glance over at the wall of flash designs.
"Something simple. A symbol, maybe. Something that means tonight was out of this world, something worth remembering."
He walks over to the wall beside me, scanning the designs. Then he points to a small, simple star.
"A star?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
"Why not?" he counters. "Vegas is all lights and stars, right? And you said it yourself – it’s something to remember that the night was out of this world.” I smile, coming around to the idea. He goes on. “And it’s kind of understated. Classic. Like it’s not the sort of thing you look at with regret when you’re sober.”
I nod my head, still smiling. He’s convinced me.
"Alright, a star it is. But I get to pick where mine goes."
"Naturally," Joshua says.
