We are extremely lucky to have an interview between two characters that are SubClub favourites. Beckett and Hayden. We have to say a big thank you to both Helena Hunting and Debra Anastasia for arranging this interview. Time to hand over to the guys.
The bell over the door chimed, signalling the arrival of another client. Hayden looked up from the file he was perusing to find Beckett standing in the shop, looking like the semi-reformed ball busting criminal he was.
“You came early.”
“I come as often as I can. Ask my woman.” Beckett laughed while he eyed the file on Hayden’s desk. “I know we were drunk as fuck when we talked about this, so I’m interested to see what you came up with?”
“I’ve got a few ideas, don’t worry, though, I wasn’t hammered when I was working on the sketches.” Hayden shuffled the papers out of the folder and spread them across his desk. “And I’m pretty fucking sure I don’t want to know about your masturbation habits, so I’ll be avoiding that topic the next time Eve is around, asshole.”
“You’d pay at least a thousand dollars for a front seat at my monkey spanking. I’m a master bater. Too bad you weren’t drunk when you came up with the designs because I was looking forward to showing my brothers the naked Santa Claus with his glitter vagina going down on the fucking Easter bunny we had planned.” Beckett rubbed the spot on his arm that the intended tattoo would hopefully grace.
Hayden laughed and shook his head. “We can do that one next. I’ll tattoo it on the back of your head, so every motherfucker knows about your weird ass holiday character fetish.”
“Shut up. You’re such a bag of assholes. How’s Tenley?” Beckett nodded at Lisa who walked in with a disapproving look on her pretty face.
“She’s good. Doing the PhD thing now, so there’s no end to the work. Not a lot of cupcakes being made in my house these days, which sucks your balls. What about Eve, she still blowing people’s shit up, or have you dragged her into domestic boredom?”
“How many times do I have to beat you away from my balls? I swear, I’m getting them to make a Yankee candle that smells like my taint so you can let me leave my pants on for fuck’s sake. Eve’s good. We’re in between shit and a hard place at the moment. A slow simmer and all that. Dr. Tenley sounds amazing. Tell her I said keep at it.” Beckett stepped closer to Hayden, trying to get a peek at his papers.
“I’ll pass on your words of wisdom. Have a seat and I’ll show you what I’ve got. I didn’t draw up the Santa BS, ‘cause I was pretty sure you’d pick that one if I had. I’ve got a few other options based on your emails from last week. Thanks for the fucked up pictures of the botched boob job.” Hayden spread out a series of designs.
“You do a good job on this and I’ll let you do my boob job as well.” Beckett eyed the designs. Hayden was an amazing artist. He’d interpreted both Beckett’s physical descriptions of what he wanted as well as the sentiments he’d conveyed.
“I’d have to get a hall pass from Tenley if you had boobs and bottom for you,” Hayden said with a straight face.
“I’d let you top you handsome motherfucker. I bet you’re a tender lover, soft and sweet. Like a marshmallow with a dick.” Beckett wiggled his eyebrows and looked Hayden up and down.
“I’d ride you like a bucking bronco.”
A balled of piece of paper came flying across the room and beaned Hayden in the side of the head, courtesy of Lisa’s fine aim. “You two are disgusting. Why Eve and Tenley let the two of you hang out is beyond me.”
“Those two are just as bad when they’re together,” Hayden replied. He turned back to Beckett and gestured to the sketches laid out on the desk. “But seriously, any one of these appeal to you more than the others?”
Beckett touched a paper, gravitating to the blue and white circles. “This one here. I can’t look at this brand on my arm one more fucking day.”
Hayden leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “You want to grab a coffee and think it over before we get started? This is just as permanent as that brand, so you want to be sure.”
“Anything on my body has a short shelf life. Does this blue one mean anything in particular?” Beckett asked.
“It’s a talisman, a symbol of protection, which is something you kind of need, yeah? I picked up the colour in Eve’s eyes for the blue, just so there’s a tie in to your woman.”
“That’s perfect. But more importantly can you do the same tat on my brothers, except using their wives eye colour?” Beckett smiled at the thought.
“Sure. If that’s what you want, I can make it happen. I’ll just need a couple pictures so I can modify the colour scheme to fit. I can even copy the placement, so it’s in the same spot for all of you, like your brother tattoo. You’re the only one with the brand, though, right? Tattooing over those scars is going to hurt like a bitch.”
“Pain and I go way back, no worries. And yeah, I think they’ll want the same. I’ll pay for three, so they can get it if they want. If not, just consider it a tip. I know how you like to get just the tip.” Beckett puckered his lips at Hayden.
“You’re such a fucking tease. If they decide they don’t want it, I can always put this one—” Hayden pointed to the pin up version of Eve, “—on your dick. But just the tip.”
Beckett threw back his head and laughed. “You fucker. So I’ve never gotten a tat in a nice shop like this, Chaos always did me in a dirty shed. He’s living in Maryland now. So do you have a shed and some salmonella to spread on it?”
“That’s ‘cause you’re a whore and you like it dirty. But seriously, man, don’t be telling me that shit. You’re lucky your damn arm didn’t fall the fuck off.” Hayden’s foot tapped on the floor, his lip curling at the thought. “You want to get down to it then? This will probably take me a couple of hours.”
“That’s what she said.” Beckett offered. “Yeah, butter me up and prick it baby. My body is ready.”
Hayden gathered the design and led Beckett to his tattooing chair. “Since I’m not putting this on your ass, we can work out here, yeah?”
Beckett took a seat and watched while Hayden setup for the tattoo, choosing ink and assembling his tattoo machine. Pulling on a pair of gloves, Hayden motioned for Beckett to give him his arm. Wiping it down with antiseptic, he transferred the design to his skin, covering the brand with what would soon be a permanent replacement for a bad memory.
Return to Poughkeepsie
Cupcakes and Ink
Between the Cracks