Night Film(89)

“You said her tattoo was of a kirin?” I asked.

“It’s popular with Jap tat fanatics. A mystical beast.”

“Did she say who had her other half?” asked Nora.

“Nah. But it’s big with lovers, newlyweds, prom dates, couples ’Bout to be split up, like one’s gotta serve time. I did one last week. Couple in their seventies. They drove up here from Fort Myers for their fiftieth wedding anniversary. I got the after picture somewhere.”

Turning off the ink gun, he spun in his swivel chair to search the messy desk behind him, the black latex gloves making his every gesture faintly dramatic, like a cat burglar or mime. He found the photo, handed it to Nora, turning on the gun again, but bent over to inspect his client’s face under the massage table.

“How you doin’ down there, Mel?”

“I’m cool.”

Mel didn’t look cool. He was drooling on the floor.

Nora handed me the photograph. It featured two grinning retirees, their arms around each other, wearing matching yellow polo shirts and khaki Bermuda shorts. On the top of her right foot and his left was a tattoo of a red heart with wings. With their feet side by side, it was whole.

It was a bit schmaltzy for my taste, but Nora was enraptured.

“I tell all my clients who come in wanting a twofold,” Tommy went on cheerfully, “be a thousand percent sure. Can’t tell you how many times girls come in cryin’ a month later, want the work redone ’cuz her true love ran off with her best friend. At first I thought that’s what your friend wanted.” He nodded at the photo of Ashley. “But she just wanted the picture.”

“Did she say why?” I asked.

“Nah.”

“And did she get it?” asked Nora.

“Uh-uh. She had the art done a while ago, 2004, when I was at my old location at the Chelsea Hotel. With the move, things got lost. I let her go through our files in the back. She stayed a coupla hours, lookin’. But she couldn’t find it.”

“We have a receipt stating that she bought something,” I said, removing it from my coat pocket.

He didn’t bother looking up.

“There was a young soldier in here on leave. Wanted a portrait of his wife over his heart. She was also a soldier and got killed in Afghanistan. He was a mess, but what he wanted was a real job. Didn’t have the cash. We decided on just her name. But your friend took care of it. Didn’t make a big deal.”

Nora looked at me, astonished.

“Did she behave strangely?” I asked him.

“Apart from not talking much? Not really.”

“Did she look unwell?”

“A little pale?”

“Do you know who did her tattoo back in 2004?”

“One a’ my old employees. Larry. I could tell from the work.”

“And where can we find Larry?”

Tommy chuckled. “Somewhere between heaven and hell.”

He wiped the finished blossom with a tissue, closely inspecting it, and moved on to the next.

“One minute Larry was slingin’ ink? Next minute he’s passed out on my floor, blood shooting outta his nose like the Bellagio fountains in Vegas. Died in the ambulance. Aneurysm.” He frowned, bending to survey his client. “Sure you’re all right, Mel? You’re a cadaver down there.”

“I’m listening,” said Mel.

Tommy frowned, tilting his head up at us and sighing.

“So, this is the thing. I go home the night after your friend came in. And I think back to what happened to Larry coupla weeks before he died. This is back, like, summer of ’04. Now for you to understand what I’m about to tell you, you got to understand Larry. He was a big motherf*cker. Bigger than a fridge, bigger than a Barcalounger, I swear on a stack of Bibles.”

“Bigger than me?” asked Mel in a muffled voice from under the table.

“Not bigger than you. But close.” Tommy resumed his work. “He was a helluva artist. Studied in Yokohama under a Horiyoshi. Guy could pound skin, grind with the best of ’em. He could do a mean Tebori, Horimono, Irezumi, you name it, which was how come I had him in the shop. Because he was an *. I’m not sayin’ nothin’ I wouldn’t say to his face. He embraced his *ness. Hated kids. Called ’em larvae. Had four girlfriends. None of them knew about each other. His whole life was like that. Buncha lies and dodges, unreturned calls and let-downs. So, one day I come in and the shop’s quiet. All the lights are off and Larry’s just sitting in the dark by himself like he felt sick or somethin’. I ask him what’s the matter and he’s all down and shit, tells me his life’s crap. He’s a coward, he tells me. He’s a cheat. Says he’s made so many mistakes. He says he’s going to change his priorities. First time I ever heard him use a four-syllable word. So I humor him. Ask what the hell brought on his salvation. He said he’d just done a Japanese twofold for two teenagers. They’d just left the shop ten minutes before. He said they were in love and it was like an electric current. Like that lightning that comes out of the blue when there’s not even a storm going on, just a crazy crack in the sky. With something like that right in front of you, you can’t help but feel there’s new possibilities out there. He started goin’ on about life and love and promise.” Tommy glanced up at us, grimacing. “Suddenly, he was Shakespeare. I’m not payin’ attention. I’m pissed as hell ’cuz he did an illegal tattoo on two kids, which means I could get my license revoked. And anyways this is Larry we’re talking about. He’ll go back to being an * in a few days, guaranteed. A week later I come into the shop.” Tommy shook his head, rubbing his chin. “And there’s a kid in here. I don’t allow kids in here, but there’s a kid in here. She’s real weird-lookin’. Big. Arms and legs so long they got tangled when she walked. Braces. Frizzy hair out to here.” He gestured a foot off his head. “Freckles everywhere like something exploded on her. I ask who she belongs to. She’s Larry’s. Turns out she’s the daughter he skipped out on a coupla years before when he was slingin’ ink in Kentucky. He tells me he’s gonna be a real dad now.” Grinning, Tommy shook his head, returning to the tattoo. “A real dad. It was a coupla days before he croaked. Who knows if those two teenagers actually turned him around. I like to think they did. I like to think it was forever. Why not? Sometimes people can surprise the hell outta you. Sometimes they can tear your heart out and turn it to putty, can’t they?”