Page 41 of Love Punch

I laughed. “How can you not know that Tyler and Bradley are related, tattoo artist to the stars?”

“That’s why I’m such a tattoo artist to the stars, because I don’t give a shit,” said Sophia. “If I cared about celebrity, then I’d have less celebrity business. Get it?”

Theo still looked vaguely horrified, so I approached him with hands held in front of me like I was tending to a wounded animal. “Don’t worry, Theodore. Seriously. I keep Bradley’s secrets all the time. I wouldn’t have a job if I didn’t.”

“And now you’re shacking up with him,” said Theo quietly. His face was pale, but there was a hint of a smirk on his lips now.

“That is true. And now I have even more secrets of his to keep. Though he’s shirtless all the time in the ring, so he couldn’t exactly get…that.” I jabbed at the tattoo.

Sophia seemed to find her voice again and walked over to where we were stood. “So, Arthur. What would you do?” she asked. She sounded like a surgeon asking for the best way to save a patient’s life rather than a tattoo artist asking what colour might be best for a cover up.

I thought about the tan skin in front of me like a canvas. How would I cover up an errant pencil stroke or accidental dark splurge of paint?

“So you want something dark that covers this area here,” I said, drawing my finger in the air over the tattoo. “But it’s so big that I can’t imagine any tattoo having a big splurge of black in the middle that doesn’t look bloody awful.”

“Exactly,” said Sophia. “Theo could get laser tattoo removal, at least a few sessions would lighten up the ink enough to put something slightly less intensive over it. But laser is painful, and Theo here doesn’t like pain.”

“So you got a tattoo across your ribs?” I asked incredulously.

Theo shook his head, and wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I had a bet with García at the Monaco Grand Prix last year, this was my punishment. But I’m tired of going on holiday and wearing t-shirts, even on the beaches of Andalusía.”

A little fact itched at the back of my brain. “Isn’t Sebastian like, your biggest rival? You’re enemies on and off the track, always trash-talking the other…”

Theo grunted as Sophia took out a disposable razor and started to pull it gently over his chest, removing the layer of dark blond hair as she spoke; “Anyway. Tattooing is less painful than getting a tattoo removed, though the size of your cover up is going to mean that hardly matters. Instead of one big block of black as you suggested, Arthur…” Sophia turned around and grabbed a piece of transfer paper, on which was emblazoned a pair of wings. They swooped up dramatically from a close centre, the feathers starting small in the middle and growing as they reached an apex.

“This is the design Theo and I have agreed upon,” said Sophia. “Grab the bowl and sponge, would you dear?”

I fetched it as asked, and watched as Sophia carefully lined up the transfer paper so the wings met at the centre of Theo’s chest. She took the sponge from me, dipped it in and then gently pushed at the transfer paper over Theo’s chest so that it lay damp on him for a second, and then pulled it up. A purple outline of what she intended to permanently ink into his skin remained.

I leaned in, amazed at what she had done. The feathers weren’t quite perfect, not quite symmetrical. But the darkness of themany feathers at the centre, as well as careful placement further out, would completely shield the letters from view when the tattoo was inked in black.

“You’re a genius,” said Theo to Sophia.

“I know,” she replied. “Now. I don’t advise numbing cream as it can impact the quality of the tattoo, but that means it’s going to hurt a little more. Is that OK?”

Theo grimaced. “It’s going to have to be.”

“Do you need a hand to hold?” I offered.

Theo rolled his eyes at me. “I’ll be fine. I’m a big boy.” But his eyes tracked the needle warily as Sophia turned on the tattoo gun to test it.

“Why did you ask me here today?” I asked Sophia. “Surely not just to impinge on some poor bugger’s privacy.”

“Oh no,” said Sophia. “I went through the pictures you drew, and I was wondering if you might want to help me come up with some ideas for another cover up. Apparently, Mr Tyler here isn’t the only one who didn’t realise just how impactful and harmful a silly tattoo can be.” She gestured to the iPad in the corner. “Go check out the pictures on there. I assume I don’t have to have you sign an NDA? I wouldn’t even show Cindy the files that are on there, or who’s coming in for their tattoo.”

I crossed over to the iPad, flicked upward on the screen, and choked on my own spit. “What the fuck?” I muttered. On the screen was a photo of another man’s chest, close up. There was no face in the picture, but there were a couple of identifying features. The chest was dark, tanned and quite hairy. The man had two tattoos. One, peeking into the picture from above, was of a black cross dangling from rosary beads. I presumed the rosary beads were tattooed all the way round his throat like a necklace. But that wasn’t the thing that drew my eye the most.

The tattoo that ran across the middle of his chest, higher than Theo’s, almost obscured by the dark chest hair, was even moredamning and obscene than the one on the young man’s chest in the room with me. In the same cursive writing wasTheodore Tyler has a bigger dick than me.

“Christ, Theo.” I turned to face them both. Sophia was popping a new needle into the tattoo gun, having pulled on a pair of latex gloves. Theo looked like he was about to faint. “Why did Sebastian García get this if you lost a bet?”

“I didn’tlosea bet, I drew a bet,” said Theo. “And how do you know it’s García?”

I ignored his question. I didn’t need him to know that I followed a couple of racing drivers on Instagram for eye-candy reasons. “So rather than call it off, you decided you would both take the consequences,” I said instead.

“Something like that, yeah. I don’t remember it too well, we’d both had a bit to drink…”

“Christ almighty, Theo.”

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