Another Tattoo

Short Story #16

Whoa! I haven’t updated Short Story Sunday in a long time because I did not have the inspiration to do so. I still don’t have the inspiration to, but today’s short is an addition to the last short story I wrote call Tattoos and I’ll be free writing so forgive my grammatical errors and my French as well. 

Antonio Caster was wiping down the counter and humming along to an old Spanish song when the doorbell chimes signaling that he had a new customer. With a smile, he straightens his frame, ready to greet his fifth and probably final customer of the day. However, when the tall, bald-headed man with the piercing silver-gray eyes confidently walk into his tattoo parlor, Antonio lost his smile. This man was a regular client of his and a good tipper, but one night when he tattooed the name of a fallen hitman on the Frenchman’s back, he realized that Jean-Pierre Papin was more than just a regular client.

Jean-Pierre was tattooing the names of his fallen enemies on his lower back and this made Antonio wondered if the bad man had a mild case of amnesia.

He forces his best smile when the man approached the counter. “Bonjour. How can I help you today?”

“Another name,” Jean-Pierre impatiently flings a piece of paper on the counter.

Antonio picks it up and gasp. “Isn’t this the name of your girlfriend?”

Jean-Pierre darkly looks at him.

“Right on it,” Antonio said with less enthusiasm as he led the Frenchman to the back room. “Where would you like it?”

“Same place,”

He killed her! I can’t believe he actually killed her! Antonio panic inside. And now he wants to tattoo her name alongside his enemies. Oh, Marilyn! What have you done to deserve this!

Jean-Pierre walked out of Antonio’s Ink an hour and a half later with a puzzled look on his face, his skin still stinging from the fresh ink. He did not understand why the man hesitated to ink Marilyn’s name on his skin. Was it because he was putting her name next to his enemies? He had no other choice in the matter, though.

When he returned to his Montmartre flat, freshly brewed coffee assaulted his senses causing him to gag. He hated coffee. “Do you mind?”

“Oh, you’re back!” a surprised feminine voice answered. “Désolé pour le café!”

“I put up a lot for you because you’re lucky I like you a lot, Marilyn.”

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