Midnight Redline

"I honestly don't get why you're complaining, I'd be fucking buzzing." My friend Mira chuckled; she worked as a tattoo artist, and she'd been my friend for years. At that point, it was around 8pm, and I was sat there moaning to her while she worked a design onto my collarbone. "I swear I'm going to lose my mind, imagine ending up in a school full of rich lunatics." I scoffed. "They're going to spit on me once they realise my parents don't even own nine thousand acres of land." Mira paused for a second, the tattoo gun still in her hand, and stared at me with a blank look. I was going on about how the university I'd got into was known for the snobbiest sort of adults; you'd think that, by university, people would be mature and act grown, but apparently you'd be mistaken. the design in a second." Mira shook her head; I only smiled a little, and she kept tattooing. The place was dead, apart from one male tattoo artist who sat there with his head in his phone, scrolling mindlessly until closing. And us, obviously. The bell above the door jingled, meaning someone had come in. But I couldn't turn my head, and Mira couldn't either. "You really going to tell your parents about this one too?" Mira chuckled, glancing up at me while I only rolled my eyes. "As if, they went mad at me over my car; I'm fully legal, yet they still treat me like I'm fourteen." I sighed as the male tattoo artist got up, greeting whoever had just walked in. "This is exactly why your little sister is the favourite." Mira joked, and I shot her a look; even if she was probably right, it still didn't need saying. "Heey, congrats on getting into the university, when do you start?" the male tattoo artist asked the, apparently, other guy who'd just come in. "Like, three days? I think." The guy answered, and his voice was ridiculously distinctive. "That's soon, huh? You here for ink or did you just come say hey?" Me and Mira were very clearly listening to the conversation; she twisted around for a second, then looked at me with her eyes as wide as they'd go. "Damn, he's fine." She mouthed it, and I only gave a little smile before laughing. "Eh, can't get a tattoo right now, but I'll get one sometime later." The man sat down, clear enough from the huge exhale. "You know where to come whenever you do want one." The artist chuckled, and Mira finally finished the design, wiping off the leftover ink before starting the aftercare. She smoothed translucent foil over it once she'd moisturised it, and at last I could get up and check it in the mirror. When I got to my feet, I caught the seated man's eye; he was studying my face hard, some smug little expression tucked into his features. Either way, I brushed it aside and looked from the mirror to the tattoo she'd put on my collarbone. Safe to say, I love it. "And?" Mira stood behind me, and the two guys were staring at us with absolutely no shame. "I love it, just know I'm coming back for more." The grin on my face was huge, and I was already planning the next tattoos I'd get. "Alright, alright, don't get too ahead of yourself." Mira laughed as I picked up my car keys from the side and spun them around my fingers. "I'm heading off then, see you later." I waved goodbye to both tattoo artists and left, unlocking the car parked right outside the parlour. My car always caught people's attention and, most times, started a conversation on its own. It was modified: deep orange, a thick black stripe running down the centre, spoilers, black rims, and of course that ridiculously loud sound it made whenever I turned it on. It wasn't like I'd drive it around like that every day because, after all, it wasn't exactly road legal, and if a cop clocked it, I'd probably get fined for all sorts of things. Even so, I started the car and made my way back to my place. One good thing about being an adult with adult money was that you didn't have to keep living with your parents anymore. They have no idea about the racing career I've made for myself; all they've really seen is the car, and that nearly gave them a heart attack. So I couldn't really picture how they'd react if I told them I raced illegally. Sorry, parents.