Before leaving the Skin Adorn workhouse, Tae reentered the brightly-lit building, scanning the room in a scatter before shouting, "Hey, can anyone give me Spice?"
In an instant Tae's coworkers locked eyes as if he was fresh meat, and in a way he was. It was an unsettling trip down memory lane, remembering his first week on the job as a tattoo artist.
--
A young and rambunctious 20 year old Tae moved to California with hopes of his dreams being fulfilled under Jordan's console and management. It took him a good while to transfer all of his college credits to UCLA but when he did, he stopped pursuing a bachelor's degree in Interpreting to instead major in Psychobiology. His educational pathway was and still is a little white lie he tells everybody in case someone judges him for never changing his academic ways. During his first week in the state, Tae had already bought himself a small studio apartment, an easy ten-minute walk from the Skin Adorn "Headquarters".
On the first day of work he arrived half an hour early, watching intently as the returning workers greeted one another in the main lobby. Weekends were reminisced upon and questions were raised concerning mutual friends with names like Taylor and Alex. Regardless of their nationalities, everyone spoke what sounded to him like excellent English with eloquent jargon, Tae already feeling left out being the only Asian-American in the room with the exception of Jordan. The babble and brilliance exuded from Tae's coworkers exhibited an ease and confidence that he personally found intimidating. As an added discomfort, they were all young, attractive, and well-dressed, causing Tae to feel not unlike any other racial or language minority.
The first day on the job was nerve-racking because Tae knew he'd be expected to perform. That’s the way they do it here and he was glad he caught on quick – it’s everybody into the ink pool, sink or swim. Jordan being the ringleader of the circus marched in, deeply tanned from a recent 40 minute vacation, and proceeded to rattle off a series of administrative announcements. Tae himself spent quite a few summers in tattoo studios in Oregon, and he took a month long tattoo class before leaving to California. Tae was not completely in the dark, yet he understood only half of what this boss was saying. “If you have not
meimslsxp or
lgpdmurct by this time, then you should not be in this room. Has everyone
apzkiubjxow? Everyone? Good, Skin Adorn will open with a
palicmkrexis. I will repeat, if you have not
fiuscrzsa or
ticiwelmun by now, you are not in a position to work for me. Oh, I forgot to mention, we have a new worker in here today. Everyone, Yoon Tae Choi. Be nice.”
Because it was a tattoo studio to the public eye, all of his coworkers scanned his virgin skin with brutal sagacity as lambaste gossip about him immediately followed pursuit. As the days trudged on, Tae gained his well-maintained reputation through countless all-nighters at Skin Adorn, staying with Jordan the whole night and learning the tricks of the trade until he passed out in well earned spacious office.
During the week he progressively gave himself a full on sleeve, a proud piece of art that gained the attention of the Skin Adorn crew. Enough to have the others gladly place their art on his body where his arms could not reach.
--
Before his time in jail, before Jordan spread his dirty lies, he found comfort in his coworkers and they the same. Now, it was all diminishing right before his eyes. Welcome to Skin Adorn: Where you must learn to juggle interchangeable personalities, flying tattoo autoclaves, and the constant risk of your boss spreading the rumor that you liked the way he touched you.
In the corner of his eye he saw a man approaching. His need to leave the building as soon as possible overtook his attention span and curiosity in the figure. The only thing he could remember about the guy was him giving him two packets of his kryptonite, a silver, medium-sized package containing a poorly drawn illustration of the Eye of Horus right in the front.
"Thanks... Hey, are you new?"
"Yeah."
"Cool...See you around I guess."
Tae immediately grabbed the two packets out from the man's freezing touch. Confused by how cold the guy's hands were, Tae just gave the guy a quick concerned glance before walking towards his car. Hearing his infamous "Pink Panther" theme song ringtone, he checked the lit up screen, an unknown caller reaching his iPhone. Accepting the call, he nervously pressed the phone up to his ear before he got into the car and started to drive home.
"Hello?" Tae asked, his lower lip curling into his anxious molars.
"Hey Tae! It's Sen. Jordan gave me your number."
"Oh."
"What do you mean 'Oh'? You don't wanna hear your best friend's voice? Anyway, I wanted to catch up with you today and see what's going on but I went to your office and you weren't there."
"Yeah I'm actually on my way home. You know how I am, I always like working on a bed instead of a desk. It's---"
"It's less restrictive of your work ethic and makes you feel like your personal life is intermingled with your business life and that's what you value in a work environment. Yeah I know."
"Oh."
The hand clutching his phone fell limp in lethargy, his gaze on the road losing their focus. For some reason he can't put a finger on, he didn't feel like talking to Sen. His high school best friend was morphed into a mere obstacle without a single reason to be obstructing anything. Maybe the obstacle was their unintentional and intrusive small talk, the societal need to catch up when there was no catching up to do. Or perhaps it was the recall of how Sen acted when Noeul showed up on his doorstep, the unmistakable jealousy radiating from his long-time-no-see childhood buddy.
"Sorry Sen I'm like really out of it today."
"I can fucking tell. Jordan's getting to you lately?"
"...Listen, I know he's our boss and everything but do you mind not mentioning him every time we talk?"
"I wear my loincloth over my eyes and ejaculate too soon-"
"Excuse me?" Tae almost shouted into his phone's speaker, completely appalled at what Sen said. As if his blurb meant anything to him.
"Oh! Sorry, reading this poetry book. You know how I am with poetry."
"Yeah, and I know how you are when you fucking read books. You always had the tendency to read aloud without knowing." Tae was a little bit shaken up, his ears replaying Sen's little poetry reading and analyzing it far too much.
"Damn straight. I'll put the book away because that was awkward. How's your mom Tae?"
He fell silent at a perfect time. To be caught in the L.A. morning traffic jam was all the more reason to be unresponsive. Tae's eyes unwillingly scanned the interior of his clean car, his ability to keep it smelling brand new and spotless was profound. Clearing his throat uncomfortably he spoke into the phone's speaker, his elbow leaning against the matted black center console.
"Sen. My mom died three years ago."
"Oh...Tae I...I had no idea. What happened?"
"Car accident."
"...Why didn't you tell me about it? You know I was close with your family too."
"..."
"Tae?"
"I never talk about my family to anyone. You know that."
There were two boundaries in a conversation that Tae personally hated to pop. The uninterrupted jabber of memories about "parental figures" that didn't matter to him was one of them. The other was just his parents in general. The topic was something that brought forth this unreasonable loathing from him. Although he wasn't a very hateful person at heart, there were of course a few things he could personally go without and may even sign a petition to ban or boycott. If parents could be boycotted, he would be on that train ride, stop at the last station, walk all the way back to the start, and ride again.
Tae's hatred could be found in the simplest of examples: Hating Comic Sans or Thursdays for no apparent reason. He
did hate his parents for so many reasons---the abandonment and vocal feelings of disappointment, the strict house rules, the enforcement and sermons of masculinity, the conversion therapy learned from internet browsers and local priests---but as the years went by and his time of independence grew to become a part of him, he could barely understand where his parents were coming from. At least barely understanding something was a start to new concepts.
"Alright, let's stop talking about sad shit right now Tae and let's just...take a trip down Memory Lane. Man, I've never told you this, but when I was younger I seriously wanted to be you."
"Seriously?...That's...The fuck? Why?" A little shocked and curious, Tae pressed his phone even more into his soft skin, as if that could somehow clear up the confusion and make things sound a lot more understandable.
"I know it's so stupid but you had it all back then. You were a rich kid from the get go, I mean I was too but you had it good. Like, I don't know how to explain it. You were always so humble about every single thing you got. Your mom used to brag about you all the time to my parents. About how you never asked for anything. I always wanted to be like that, that sort of son that his parents would be proud of, but I also wanted to beat you in everything. Wanting to beat you meant asking my parents for a lot of shit. I regret it now but...yeah...you were such a good kid. You were smart, talented, creative, you had opinions about everything. I remember saying to my dad, 'I don't want my dumb name anymore. I want to be Yoon-Tae Choi too.'"
Tae loosened the tight pressure of his grip on the phone, listening to each and every word his friend had to say about their childhood while covertly judging Sen. There was no way in hell he was like that as a young boy, the confusion and transformation he had during his teenage years was enough to make him forget all about the perfect facade that enriched his youthful identity. After the hour drive to the nearest tattoo parlor at 18 years old he got something that would lead to the tragic spiral of his downfall: The letters "A(rt)O(f)M(ovement)" inked in a sort of style that resembled a heart EKG behind his ear. He should have known better to listen to teenage Sen's encouragement about pursuing tattoos. Or better yet, listen to all the encouragement Sen provided but not get a tattoo that was in such a visible and vulnerable spot. The tattoo came around the period where he hated hats and all things that covered his hair, saying that if one more thing got put on his head he would rain hell upon all life on earth. If he would have waited a few months for his "snapbacks are chill 24/7 365" phase he could have easily avoided confrontation from his traditional, old-school, Korean family. Hearing Sen's story about how he wanted a immature name change broke him out of his train of thoughts, a small joyous snicker leaving his lips.
"Sen, either you're mistaking me for some other cookie-cutter rich boy or you're in another dimension. What the fuck? What happened to me? Where did little Yoon-Tae Choi go? People always call me a rich entitled asshole now."
"Not even surprised."
"Hey. Watch your mouth, Sen."
"I'm older."
"Shit." Their ringing laughter echoed throughout Tae's car, the boom of their comfortable and intimate cackles were so similar in rhythm, tone, and timing that it was downright scary. That obstacle Tae perceived Sen to be was now clear from view. The only thing Tae saw Sen as was a long lost best friend that was miraculously found.
"Yo! Remember when we talked for a bit back in college? You told me you were getting a BA in interpreting so you could be an English teacher in Korea. Where the fuck did that go Tae? You've changed." Sen said, the last of his words dramatically spoken as if he was distraught about his best friend's proclivity to change decisions.
"Don't get me wrong, I was on track for my BA right after I graduated high school but like, a few months away from my graduation he met me and hooked me up to Skin Adorn. I liked tattoos over languages anyway."
"By 'he' you mean Jordan, right?"
"Gasp. How dare you speak the Lord's name in vain?"
"God. Don't even get me started on hi-"
"Ha. God. I get it."
"Shut up, loser. As I was saying, don't get me started on his big ass ego. He thinks he's the shit, doesn't he Tae?"
"Tell me about it. Hey give me a sec I just got home."
Talking to Sen always seemed to make time fly no matter how long they've been apart. The only other person who had the capability to make him forget was Noeul. After bonding over the phone, Tae thought that it wasn't such a bad idea to have Sen hang out with Noeul. Although it would be weird having a childhood best friend come in contact with his adulthood best friend, it would be the best remedy for his suffocating issues.
Parking his car in his makeshift gym and garage, Tae grabbed his two packets of Spice and his unnecessary paperwork before unlocking the front door. His home was a blissful sanctuary to him, a tidied den of solitude and salvation, a place where he could always confide in to get away from the struggles of life. There were times where his home also brought him loneliness and a chance to have heart-to-hearts with his thoughts, where his grotto became a dungeon in the blink of an eye. Quick footsteps fluttered him upstairs into his room, a tan and cocoa colored asylum with a large glass window located on the left side of it. After learning about Feng Shui from one of his deranged coworkers, Tae's bedroom, after months of research, followed the method to the best of his ability. His bed was on the wall diagonal to the door, all the way to the left of the room near the window. Two polished oak bedside tables were placed on either side of the bed, each adorned with the same simplistic and modern lamp that was in almost every room in the house. A massive wooden headboard could have been a wall itself; directly behind the bed to provide great strength for his head and to protect from any loud sound he may be having late at night or when he woke up beside someone. A khaki colored circular rug covered the majority of his maple polished floor and was placed in the very center of the room, Tae's claimed statement of it being "easier to clean" had been a blatant lie, but he still hadn't gotten rid of it because it was too expensive for some measly carpet. Overall, Tae's room was immaculate. It was clean, tidy, and especially organized. Always known for being scatterbrained at a young age, Tae always organized everything to stay on track. Even his massive closet had its own system: Long sleeves on the left, short sleeves on the right, tank tops or no-sleeved shirts in the middle, pants in the shelves, shoes aligned near the shelves, socks rolled up and put at the very top of the closet. There was nothing under his bed, everything was stashed in his bedside drawers if it could fit. If it didn't, the item would go downstairs. For a busy schedule and lifestyle, Tae's room was empty and fancy for the most part. If it wasn't for the small white bear sitting patiently on his side of the bed, the room would have been the cultivation of maturity and sophistication.
"Sen! I'm in my room right now you still alive?"
"No I died and went through two lifetimes while you were gone."
"Fuck off Sen." Tae teased, shaking his head in disbelief at his friend's sarcastic nature. Getting himself comfortable on his bed, Tae reached into one of his bedside table's drawers, pulling out a small package of Juicy Jay's Rolling Papers, the watermelon flavored packaging reminding him that he will always be a kid at heart smoking blunts that tasted like Fruit Loops. The paper itself was a faded cherry red with black ovals scattering it, visualizing the meat of a watermelon. Taking one of the Spice packets, he ripped the packaging open, the faint smell of weed and the strong smell of god-knows-what emitting from metallic gray plastic. With hasty hands, he spilled out the contents of the bag onto his bed, the drug looking like a witch's mason jar or a chef's concoction of enticing seasoning. After rolling the drug into the paper, he grabbed his lighter from his back jean pocket, lighting the chemical before slowly sticking it in between his pursed lips with poise and class.
"Remember when you used to get excited when your mom came back home from Korea? We couldn't get you to do anything fun because you thought your mom would come to school and see you misbehaving."
"That was random but yeah I remember that." Tae said, accidentally blowing the thick plume of smoke into his phone's microphone.
"Hey, I fucking heard that Tae. What are you smoking?"
"JWH-018."
"Dude," Sen commented, Tae almost feeling the head shake of disapproval and judgement from the other side of the phone. "You can just say Spice you know. Or like, synthetic cannabinoids, or that fake weed shit. Can't believe you're still using drugs since 16 man. Should've been dead by now or like, on the streets of downtown Portland."
"Actually," Tae paused, his fingers returning the airy nectar into his aroused taste buds. "I got clean when I was 21." After speaking, he blew the rest of the smoke out of his decaying lungs, turning his head to stop the smoke from going towards his phone. Leaning back into the call, he took the time to roll another blunt so he could take one for the road.
"And you're relapsing with Spice? Are you fucking crazy? You do know that fake weed shit isn't weed at all. It's like, meth, or crack cocaine."
"I know Sen, I took Drugs 101 as a fucking hobby. Chillax, I'm in control right now I'm only using it to relieve stress."
"...Have you tried AM-2201?" Sen questioned, completely dismissing Tae's obvious stress patterns after coming back from jail.
"No," Tae commented, "Why, is it good?"
"Fuck no, that shit gave me bad trips. Not good for people with anxiety."
"You got anxiety?"
"Long story." Another chuckle was heard from the other side of the call, a laugh mimicking the sound seconds after.
After retrieving his ashtray from the same bedside drawer, Tae relaxed his body on the wooden headboard, using his index finger to tap on the roll so he could remove the leftover ashes. Not even two taps in, Tae placed the roll back into his mouth, sucking on it like some candy and taking a large inhale. Tae could already feel the effects of the chemical kicking in, all parts of his body turning into this dull numbness that he loved to feel. With synthetic marijuana, he could forget his environment for a little while, forget the stress, forget the trauma, forget Jordan. A sudden plink of his phone broke him out of his sudden trance, checking his phone to see the devil himself in bold Arial letters.
"Hey you What are you doing trying to play hooky? Let's get back to work.
125 N Robertson Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90048
"
Tae's eyes continued to blankly read over the text until the message notification disappeared into oblivion seconds after. Taking two deep hits of his escape, he focused his attention back to another remedy of his.
"Sen you will not believe who just messaged me."
"Let me guess, Jordan caught you?"
"Yep. Gotta hit Chanel real quick and I didn't even fucking do any of my w-" Before he could finish, he heard some knocks coming from downstairs, putting two in two together as his heart unexpectedly leaped out of his chest.
"Hey Sen, I gotta go Noeul's here."
"You're still talking to Noeul?"
"Yeah...why do you ask?"
"No reason. Bye."
Shrugging at the abrupt end of the call, Tae quickly ashed his blunt before walking downstairs and opening the door. As soon as his best friend stepped in, Tae started to feel a bit groggy and lax, looking at his friend with a dazed glare, wondering what was going on and why Noeul was so excited. Scratching at the side of his neck, his glassed eyes scanned at what seemed to be an urn. "The hell?..." After Noeul's heroic backstory of how he got Andrew's remains, Tae's intestines tied into knots, his logic and reasoning telling him to scold Noeul but his drugged out body cooing him to let it slide. In a haze, Tae could only make a twisted face of rejection. "That's fucked up man."
He cautiously walked over to stand next to Noeul, eyeing the urn with a bubbling feeling of discomfort and guilt. Although Sen sparked Tae's ambition to make tattooing become a career, it was Andrew that told him he was doing all the right things. A month into Skin Adorn Tae was making $9,000 a week incorporating black market enterprising with tattoo artistry. He was well off in the company but he was starting to lose all creativity and had begun to produce shit-quality art. The lackluster sketches never made it to skin fortunately, but Tae was on the brink of giving up the business until Andrew walked into the Adorn warehouse. He still remembers the very day when Andrew requested to have something simple yet bold. It was a strange request for Tae even though he was a month into the work. Tae's clients usually came in with an idea in mind unlike Andrew, who came in completely unannounced and with a vague concept plan. Despite the rules Tae accepted Andrew into his chair, a gut-feeling of getting to know the guy surfacing. After a few hours of laughter, deep conversations, and consultation, both Tae and Andrew settled on a lion. Tae first recommended that Andrew get something else, the idea for the piece coming to light after Andrew saw Tae's pectoral lion tattoo. However, Andrew was a stubborn guy at the time and insisted he got a lion, commenting that they could both have matching tattoos in a way. Andrew came in month after month to have Tae tattoo him, scheduled this time, asking for the most random tattoos to be placed on his skin. After a year of being really good friends, Tae was invited into the Pack by Andrew, who wanted to show off his massive connections with a "dope ass" tattoo artist. The rest was history.
Heaving a sigh, Tae could faintly smell the mild scent of chemical leaving his breath. He started at Noeul, "Look man, I've gotta go back to work because my boss caught me skippin'. You don't mind waitin' here for like two hours tops? I promise I won't take long. You can have time with Andrew and I'll pay respects later. Actually, my mom's death anniversary is comin' up so I can celebrate the two of them soon. Even though Andrew isn't Korean, I go all out with
jesa so he'd love it. You'd like it too, I make a lot of traditional Korean food for my mom every year since she passed. Anyway, wait for me, aight?"
Unable to listen to Noeul's response, he quickly walked upstairs to grab his blunt, wallet, and car keys before heading back downstairs. "'Ey man, have you seen my lighter? Oh, never mind, I found it..." As soon as his hand touched the doorknob, the superfluous dread started to kick in. If anything, Tae loathed the idea of seeing Jordan again right after he got out of jail. Their first meeting after being away for months was not a fantastic start to his day. Biting his lower lip he looked to Noeul. "Should I just, you know, not go to work? I bet you it's nothin' even important. Plus, we need to catch up. It's been way too long bein' away from each other and I've got work to do at home. I need your approval for me to skip man if you want us to do somethin'."