Work the next day was pretty much hell. Frank's back didn't hurt any worse than, say, a new tattoo would, but there was a reason you didn't get tattooed from your shoulders to your knees all in one go. Frank knew he was moving weirdly, but he just ignored Ray and Bob's questioning glances and kept his head down.
"You shouldn't fucking be here," Mikey said in his ear at one point.
"What was I supposed to say?" Frank snapped on a fresh pair of gloves. "Sorry Brian, I can't make it in today, last night I got held down and whipped by an invisible sadist?"
"I'd back you up," Mikey shrugged.
Frank snorted and shook his head. "I appreciate that, man, but-"
"Frank!" Brian appeared from nowhere and smiled. "You're here!"
Frank avoided Mikey's eyes. "I'm here."
"Your wrists are okay?"
"Yeah, they don't hurt at all," Frank said, which wasn't a lie.
"Awesome, man." Brian beamed at him and slapped his shoulder on his way out of the back room.
Frank bit down so hard on his tongue to keep from crying out that he tasted blood.
"Shit." Mikey ran over and dug in Frank's bag until he found the Vicodin. "Here," he said, shaking out a pill. "Take this, come on."
Frank swallowed it dry and leaned heavily on Mikey for a minute. "Great, now I'm gonna be piercing stoned."
"Better than writhing in agony," Mikey said.
"What the fuck is going on?" Ray whispered, sidling in. "Shit, Frankie, are you okay?"
Frank shook his head. "It's nothing."
"It's not fucking nothing, you're green." Ray folded his arms and looked hard at Mikey. "What's wrong with him?"
"Nothing," Mikey repeated, his eyes darting around shiftily. The phone rang then and Mikey practically raced to answer it.
"Okay," said Ray, watching him. "Now I know something's going on. Mikey hasn't answered the shop phone in two months." Ray turned back to face Frank and wrinkled his forehead anxiously. "What really happened at the clinic?"
"Ray, forget it." Frank walked out in the main room and beckoned to the kid with a mohawk sitting by the door reading Home and Garden. "Hey, man, you wanna come on over?"
Ray stepped back to let the kid through. "You know, most people tell their hairdresser everything."
Frank rolled his eyes.
"We're taking you out after work," Ray said, leaning in the doorway. "Me and Bob and Mikey. To get shitfaced, okay?"
Frank said fervently, "So very, very okay," and got down to business putting a hole through Mohawk Kid's lip.
