Girls' Day Out

Your exclusive post-credits scene for Ghostling.

Girls’ Day Out 

“This is it.” Mona had stopped on the pavement outside a small, dim shopfront. “For the record, I still think this is a bad idea.” 

“That’s because you’re jealous,” Cassie informed her, making Mona snort. 

“I still don’t get it.” Patience was frowning up at the shop sign. “Intricate Inklings. What is this place?” 

“You don’t want to know,” Mona said. 

Cassie was hesitating on the doorstep. “Come on,” I said, pushing through the red-painted door. “Let’s do this.” 

The stairwell was plastered with gig posters and photos of bare backs, arms and legs. As we climbed, the sounds of voices and a low buzzing grew. 

“Wait, girls!” Patience whispered, stopping in a sudden panic. “I think—I think this is a tattoo parlor!” 

“Duh.” Cassie pushed past her. 

“They’re getting tattoos,” Mona told Patience grimly. “I’ve tried to talk them out of it. I’ve explained about hepatitis, infection, lichenoid reactions, allergic—” 

“Don’t you have to be eighteen to get a tattoo?” Patience interrupted. 

Cassie raked her fingers through her curls. “Mimi and I have talked about this. A lot. We’re almost old enough and by the time our parents find out, we’ll be eighteen.” 

Patience was wide-eyed with horror. “Girls, no! You mustn’t do this! It’s against the law.” 

“Getting a tattoo when you’re slightly underage isn’t a real crime,” I said. “It doesn’t harm anyone.” 

“You knew about this?” Patience asked Mona in disbelief. “And you didn’t try to stop them?” 

“Of course I did. They won’t listen.” 

Patience hesitated. “You’re not doing it, are you Mona?” 

Mona shook her head. “Nope. My body is a temple—except when it comes to cake.” 

“My parents would kill me if I did it.”  

I thought I detected the faintest hint of envy in Patience’s voice. Who’d’ve thought? We were at the top of the stairs now, standing outside the door of the studio. I shot a quick look at Cassie and she smirked back. 

“I might do it one day,” Mona stopped to read a safety sign on the door. “When it’s legal.” 

Cassie sighed. “Would you mind keeping your voice down? Now everybody chill, okay? Act like you’ve seen it all before.” 

“What are you going to do when they ask you for ID?” Patience asked. 

Cassie rounded on her. “We’ve already DM’ed the tattooist our proof of age, so if you keep your mouth shut, we shouldn’t have any problems.” 

“Proof of age! How?” 

“Shh! Ada has a contact who was able to hook us up with some IDs, if you must know.” 

Patience appeared to be mouthing a hasty prayer. Cassie turned to me. “Ready?” 

I steadied myself, tamping down the nerves that were making my stomach bubble. “Ready.” 

We pushed through the door with confident smiles on our faces that would have impressed everyone there, if any of them had bothered to look our way. Two male tattoo artists were bent over customers and a young woman was sitting in the corner, messing around on a tablet while she sang along to a song on the radio. All of them were heavily inked. 

“Candy, would you give it a rest?” one of the men drawled, wiping blood off a middle-aged woman’s thigh. “If you’re going to wail along to every damn song they play, I’ll change it over to the jazz station.” 

“You just wish you had a voice like mine,” Candy retorted.  

The man made a noise that indicated strong disagreement and glanced at us. “Thank God, your customers are here. Now we might get a little peace.” 

At the reception desk, Mona had found a sample waiver form that customers had to sign and was perusing it with the air of a legal expert. Patience was failing abjectly to “be chill,” staring at a bearded man who was getting a portrait of a voluptuous woman named Shawna inked on his back. 

“It looks so painful!” she breathed. 

A twinge of fear went through me—this had been my main hesitation. I wasn’t afraid of my parents’ reaction. They’d get over it if they found out. But I was apprehensive about the pain. I’d heard of people who had to abandon the process halfway through, it got so painful. Imagine having half a tattoo. 

Candy came over to us, smiling. “Hi, guys! Are you Cassie and Mimi?” She addressed Mona and Cassie and Mona was quick to correct her mistake. “Ah, sorry. Well, welcome to Intricate Inklings. How are we feeling?” 

We chorused a “great” that wouldn’t have fooled anyone. 

“No need to be nervous. You’re about to get some gorgeous ink on your skin—there’s nothing scary about that, right? We’re gonna keep this totally zen. Let’s get the paperwork done.” 

We held our breath while we showed our fake IDs. I hadn’t been particularly impressed by them, but Candy didn’t bat an eye. She just took photocopies, confirmed the designs we’d sent her, and got us to sign our waivers. 

“Okay, who’s going first?” 

Cassie and I exchanged a look and her big eyes flickered with doubt, so I stepped forward. “I will.” 

Patience grabbed my arm. “Mimi, no! Tattoos last forever. What if you change your mind?” 

I swallowed a flare of frustration. “Patience, I’ve thought hard about this. It’s not like I’m getting a band logo or the latest meme. This is always going to be important to me.”  

She glanced imploringly at Cassie, who added her voice to our case. “No one’s making you get one, but what we do with our bodies is up to us.” 

“I’ve tried, Patience,” Mona put in. “They won’t budge. But they’ve promised to come with me if I decide to get one someday.” 

Patience reluctantly released me and I got into position on the chair. Candy transferred my design onto my back, got me to check the placement, and started work. It didn’t hurt as much as I’d feared, although every now and then I let out a squeak or a grunt of discomfort. Mona asked a steady stream of questions during the process. Where had Candy learned to be a tattooist? Was there a training course? What was the sterilization procedure for their equipment? Finally Cassie told her to shut up. Patience sat to one side, looking a little sick. 

Half an hour later, I was done. I had Mona take a photo for me while Candy sterilized everything. Cassie took my spot and Candy got to work on her. Cassie never made a sound, but her hands gripped the edges of the chair until her knuckles went white. I sat beside her and reached down to unpeel one of her hands, holding it firmly. Once, she went to shake me off, but I held on, and after a while Cassie started to use my hand as her stress squeezie. 

“You’ve got this,” I murmured when she squeezed particularly hard. 

“I’m fine,” she said between clenched teeth. 

But she squealed with delight when she got her first look at it. “Take photos,” she ordered Mona, passing her phone over and adjusting her cardigan so it hung from her upper arm. “Lots of photos from every angle. No, wait! Use your phone and send them to me. My parents have set mine up to share all my photos to their cloud in case I ever take any nudes.” She rolled her eyes. “They think I’m an idiot.” 

Candy gave us a long spiel on how to take care of fresh tattoos. Then, our art wrapped in cling wrap, we paid and headed down the road toward Granny Goopy for celebratory waffles. Mona was reading a list of aftercare instructions off Web MD and urging us to visit a chemist for supplies. Patience and I walked behind the other two. Patience’s pale eyes were locked on the wiggly line of pawprints tracking up Cassie's pale, faintly freckled shoulder. 

“Did you draw that design?” she asked me. 

“Yeah, I designed them both.” 

Patience twisted her mouth and eventually admitted, “It looks pretty.” 

Cassie heard and shot her a smile over her shoulder. 

I opened the photo of my new tattoo: a little line-drawn skull, circled by the words, A life lived in fear is a life half-lived. It was on my lower back and the photo just showed the edge of my jeans and the curve of my hip. I sent it to Drew with the words: What do you think? 

He replied within moments. I assume that is your body? 

I replied in the affirmative and, for a full minute, the little ellipses danced, showing me Drew was replying. I started to chew my lip. Was he going to go all Mona or Patience on me, lecturing on safety or legality? 

That is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. 

I suppressed a shriek of happiness and replied. Thank you for the quote inspiration. PS I have more pics. 

Mimi, what are you doing to me? You have to stop. 

Dammit. He was right. I pocketed my phone, my heart growing heavy and eyes prickling. We were only three weeks into the twelve we’d agreed on. This was torture. My phone buzzed against me and I checked it. 

PS don’t stop. 

 

Did you know you can get your hands on even more Ghostling bonus content?