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43. The tattoo studio

Chapter forty three: The tattoo studio.

Scott took a u-turn at a very familiar street. At the end of road, I saw a neon sign looming ahead. It was the tattoo studio where I had asked Scott to marry me.

"Why are we here?" I asked.

"Just follow my lead," he replied cryptically.

We parked in front of the studio, the neon sign casting an ethereal glow over the pavement. Stepping out of the car, I followed Scott as he strode purposefully towards the entrance. "Hey, boss," they greeted him.

Butch, the tattoo artist, a burly man with a bushy beard, looked up from his workbench and greeted us with a nod.

"Back so soon with the wifey?" he asked, his tone gruff yet friendly.

Scott flashed him a wry grin. "I'm not here for tattoos this time," he said, motioning towards me.

He took me to his inner office. The walls were adorned with an eclectic collection of artwork, dominated by nude, obscene paintings of women in provocative poses. The scent of rich tobacco cigarettes hung heavy in the air, min
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