I took a turn in the bathroom after he finished. When I returned, I found him sitting on the edge of the bed in his boxers. He seemed uncertain about what to do next, so I climbed into bed and held my arms out. He wrapped himself around me and kissed me before saying, “That was incredible.”
“It really was.”
“What should I—I mean, this obviously changes our agreement, so—”
I quickly interrupted, before he could bring up money. “What just happened doesn’t have a thing to do with our business arrangement,” I said. “I fucked you because I wanted to. That’s it.”
“Okay. I wasn’t sure.”
“Just so you know, I plan to keep fucking you, too.”
A lopsided grin curled the corner of his lips. “I won’t try to talk you out of that.”
“Good.”
He traced the black tattoo on my bicep. It was ten lines of text in a light, pretty script. After a few moments, he said, “Am I totally losing it, or is this written in Icelandic?”
“That’s exactly what it is. Good job. Most people have no clue.”
“What does it say?”
“They’re song lyrics. Actually, that’s true of all the black ink tattoos on my body, while all the white ones are images.”
“White ones?”
I picked up my phone from the nightstand, held my left arm palm-up, and shone the light on a slender, six-inch long tattoo of an archer’s arrow. It pointed toward my wrist and was finished off with delicate guide feathers at the tail end. He leaned closer and ran his fingers over my skin, then exclaimed, “Oh, I see it now! I had no idea white ink tattoos existed. What made you decide to get something like that?”
“All of my tattoos are little messages to myself. The black ones are hard to read, and the white ones are hard to see. That keeps them private, in a way, and lets me decide who I want to share them with.”
He put on his glasses, then sat up a bit, leaning against the pillows as he asked, “What does the arrow mean to you?”
“That’s the first tattoo I ever got, and it’s a reminder to keep moving forward, no matter what. It’s also about finding a direction, or finding my way in the world. I have a compass rose somewhere else on my body, and that basically means the same thing to me—it’s a way of reminding myself to keep moving toward my goals, and to avoid getting lost along the way.”
“I like that. How many tattoos do you have in all?”
“Fourteen. Ten are white.”
Wes smiled at me. “Don’t show me the others. I want to discover them for myself.”
“Okay.”
“Will you translate the Icelandic song lyrics for me?”
“Sure, but I should give you a little context first. As I mentioned, I’m a DJ, and music means everything to me. I guess that’s why I naturally gravitate to song lyrics. Anyway, last fall, a dance song was circulating around the clubs by an Icelandic techno pop duo. It was very upbeat and catchy, and I was curious about the lyrics, so I found someone who could translate them for me. It turns out there’s a huge divide between what the song sounds like and what they’re actually saying, and the lyrics really resonated with me. Hang on, you need to hear it to get the full impact.”
As I browsed through the music on my phone, I said, “The rhyme scheme and rhythm will both be off once I translate it to English, but you’ll get the idea.”
I played the song at a fairly low volume, so I could talk over it. Then, at the part where the singer began to rap, I touched the first line on my arm and recited, “This one is for all the lost boys, once famous, once living in the limelight. This is for your yesterdays, when you meant something. When you were something. This is for your tomorrows, stretching endlessly into obscurity. Remember when you were something, when you meant something, because nobody else will.”
When the song ended, he asked, “Is that how you feel? That you’ll eventually fade into obscurity?”
“It’s inevitable. Being a DJ is everything to me, and I’ve been lucky, but the job pretty much comes with an expiration date. I’m a minor local celebrity right now. I’ve been a part of the Castro’s club scene for over ten years, but there’s this constant influx of fresh, young talent, all these DJs hungry to make a name for themselves.
“I work hard to stay relevant, but it’s just a matter of time. Like right now, I have a steady gig at one of the biggest and most popular clubs in the Castro. Next week when I’m on that trip with you, I made arrangements for this guy I know to fill in for me. He’s brilliant, barely twenty-one, and he has this fresh sound that’s really exciting and innovative. He’s also super cute, which is another reason everyone’s going to love him. I have a good relationship with the club’s owner, but honestly, he’d be a fool not to fire me and hire this other guy in my place.”