Shark of Spades

The Story Behind the Nothingness Part I

Joker and I arrived at the hotel half an hour later, having passed the rest of the walk in silence.

"I'm taking a shower," I said once inside. "You can take the bed or the couch. Your choice."

"Sweet,"  he replied, falling onto the bed, but I was already closing the bathroom door. I played cards out of instinct; nothing could stop me from doing that. But the playing wasn't the problem. The problem was that there were always people smoking and drinking nearby,  and the smell made me nauseous, so I always had to shower now before I slept. I didn't use to have this problem, mainly because I just did small gigs, but now was more about spreading the image of Card than just the skills. The more eyes, the merrier. Or so Evan claimed. He was in charge of running Card's projection, while I was in charge of performing as Card and Jack solidified Card with exceptional company. Or something like that. I wasn't really sure of his history, but he must've gotten  around before I met him because he always knew at least three people wherever we went, and he was the one with connections to places.

I stopped thinking and turned on the water, stripping slowly and stepping into the hot shower, feeling slightly overwhelmed, as though I could see the physical grime such places left on my skin. But there was nothing there, just the same skin I'd had for 21 years.

I suppose the water was hot, but I didn't feel it much. It wasn't that I was physically  deprived; my disconnection with emotions and feelings was something purely mental, and it had a large part to do with the tattoo of a butterfly that was inked across my back.

How it all started...

...And how I became like I am today...

***

His  name was Fitz. He was one of those quirky aspiring artist types, only he was way cooler because he worked in a tattoo parlor and he had ear piercings and was inked all over. I met him by chance when I was 17  because there was a card game going on in the back room, and he happened to be giving someone a tattoo. Watching him work...well, I couldn't  move. I had to see the finished image. And yeah, when you get a tattoo, the skin swells and turns red and whatever, but I could see the lines of ink clearly. He'd given some lady a tattoo on her upper arm of a tiger, its lips pulled back over its teeth in a snarl, and it was wicked amazing. He almost caught me staring, but I quickly passed into the back room, leaving no time for me to regain my composure before playing a match.

After I won, the others left quickly (they claimed they had  somewhere to be, but I'm pretty sure they were just afraid of losing more money), so when I went out, Fitz and I were the only ones left.

"I was just about to close up," he said, looking up from where he'd been evidently reading comics.

"Oh. Sorry." I stood awkwardly, not really sure why I wasn't walking away, and from the confused look on his face, he felt the same, but then I said, "I really liked the tiger from earlier."

"Oh. That." He smiled, one of those smiles that makes you want to believe anything they say. "Thanks."

I suddenly found myself feeling impulsive, but I wasn't sure why. Later, I guessed that maybe I'd wanted permanent ink to mark myself as my own. I  don't know why, but I found myself asking, "Can you give me a tattoo?"

He laughed. "Sorry. I only do women. Johnny's in here tomorrow, though."

"Why only women?"

"I like my art to be displayed on something beautiful," he said, probably copyrighting some artist's 1000-time used pickup line, but I didn't  care.

"Then I guess you're in luck," I replied coolly, taking off my sunglasses and gloves.

He just smiled. "I thought you were a bit too clever to be a guy." He paused, as though deliberating whether it was okay to break a rule if  there was a special condition. "I guess I could do one more today. What do you want done?"

I shrugged. "I'm not really sure. Anything, I guess."

He didn't give me some kind of lecture about how it was a big decision, that I should be more sure of myself, whatever. Instead, he grabbed a binder off a shelf. "If you want, you can be the prototype for my new design. Here, check it out." He opened the book to show me a butterfly that looked like it was sharp enough to slice steel in half and explained something about contrasts and stereotypes.

"Sure," I said, slightly amazed at his skill.

"Sweet," he said, smiling. "Now, where do you want it? And you can't get out of this one, or you won't like where I put it," he joked, winking.

For some reason, I didn't feel flustered at all, just like his company was so comfortable to be around. "How about..." Needs to be somewhere I can hide it if need be, I immediately thought, relieved that I'd retained at least that much common sense. Then, It'd be such a shame to have just a little one done. Why not have it big so I can see all the details? Without really knowing what I was saying, I said, "The back. And make it big."

"Yes, Ma'am." He smiled and told me to lie down on the table while he gathered up what he needed.

And that's how I ended up with a butterfly tattoo.

***

The bad part came later, but I didn't want to think about that yet. First, shut off the water. Joker's probably wondering if something's wrong, and if he starts prying, he might find something out.

So I changed and left the bathroom to find Joker sprawled on the couch. I almost smiled at his sleeping form. Idiot. I let him have the bed, and he pretended to take it, but then he went and left it for me. With one final glance at him, I laid down in the bed and closed my eyes, hoping Fitz wouldn't show up in my dreams.