“Look at that drunk chick,” I say, laughing as I point to a cracked-out girl who’s standing in the fountain in front of the Olympus hotel. The water is up to her knees, and she’s making out hard with the stone statue of Poseidon.

This is what I love about Vegas. Taking a smoke break always comes with a hell of a show.

My tattoo shop is set up on the strip, so I see all kinds of shit from the corporate sheep like the fountain-kisser over there who can’t handle Sin City. It’s like they leave their inhibitions and common sense at the McCarran baggage claim, doing things they would normally never do in public. But somehow, it’s okay because they’re in Vegas.

“Wait until security comes,” my assistant Jess says, giggling as she watches. “Paul is going to pepper spray her for that.”

“You think?” I ask, taking a drag of my cigarette.

She looks at me with her tattooed forehead wrinkled up. The ink roses on her forehead kind of looks like a pussy when she furrows her brow like that, but I shouldn’t make fun of her. I’m the one who tattooed it on her after all.

“Come on, Big Doc. Have you ever met Paul?” she asks, grinning at me.

I nod. “She’s getting pepper sprayed.”

The girl’s cute friend is laughing at her, telling her to suck Poseidon’s stone dick when Paul finally comes out, clutching the pepper spray that’s strapped to his belt. The cute friend takes off running when she sees security coming, leaving the drunk girl all alone with her new stone boyfriend.

This scene is going to be so good that I no longer care that I have no clients for the night. My tattoo shop has been empty for too many nights in a row, and I’m lucky if I’ll be able to pay the bills for the month. At least I have a show to distract me from my money problems.

“Miss!” Paul shouts, standing on the edge of the fountain. “This is private property. Get out of the water—now!”

“Pepper spray her!” Jess shouts.

Paul turns to us and rolls his eyes. “Miss,” he repeats, turning back to the crack head. She’s not listening. She’s too busy trying to stick her hand down Poseidon’s stone pants. “I’m giving you to the count of three to get out or I’m coming in.”

The woman turns to him, seeing him for the first time, and covers her open mouth with her hand. “Oh, my goodness,” she says with wide wild eyes. She keeps jerking her head from side to side, and her hand keeps twitching beside her. She’s pretty fucked up. I should get the name of her dealer.

“You have a rainbow growing out of your forehead,” she says, staring at Paul in wonder. He steps back as she approaches him with her arms out like a zombie. “Rainbow,” she whispers.

Paul, who definitely doesn’t have a rainbow growing out of his forehead, backs up, looking more nervous than ever.

The girl’s hair is a wild mess as she climbs out of the fountain and walks up to Paul with pure wonder in her bloodshot eyes. “Are you magical?”

“Miss,” Paul says, stepping backward. “Stay back.”

She tilts her twitchy head to the side as she walks up to him, ignoring his warnings completely. “Can I touch your rainbow?”

Jess is giggling beside me. Her cigarette is finished, but she’s lighting another one. We’re not going anywhere until this show is over. “She’s getting pepper sprayed.”

“Yup,” I say, watching.

Paul struggles to yank the pepper spray off his belt but can’t get it unhooked. His eyes widen in panic as she lunges forward with her hands out. He spins away and sprints back to the hotel, looking over his shoulder as he runs away from her.

“Pirate’s gold!” she yells before leaning over the ledge of the fountain and grabbing handfuls of wet pennies. She stuffs them into her purse like they’re priceless treasures.

Just when we think the show is over, a guy in a disheveled suit comes running out of nowhere and wraps his arms around her. He looks just as fucked up with his wide, twitchy eyes and a business tie wrapped around his forehead like a corporate Bruce Lee.

“Bar girl!” he shouts, staring at her with crazy eyes. He must have the same dealer because he looks equally fucked up.

“It’s you!” she shouts back, smiling widely at him. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

“I was riding on a unicorn!” the guy says, bouncing from foot to foot. He can’t seem to stay still.

Neither can she.

“Wow,” she gasps, staring at him like his drunken face is made of pure energy. She reaches up, touches his cheek, and then just like that, they’re making out.

Heavily.

I mean tongues dragging across cheeks, hands dug into matted hair, teeth crashing together. At one point, I’m worried that she’s eating his face.

I really have to get the name of their dealer. For a friend…

“This is the best night of my life!” the man says when they finally pull away.

“Oh, shit!” the girl says, looking back at the statue. “My boyfriend is going to get jealous.”

“Fuck that guy,” the drunk man says, grabbing her wrist. “You’re my girl now.”

“Okay,” she says as he pulls her toward us.

“Brace yourself,” Jess says as they lock eyes on us.

I take one last puff of my cigarette and then crush it under my foot. These two look high as fuck, and high as fuck people are always insanely unpredictable.

“Is this an apple pie store?” the man asks when they arrive.

Jess looks up at me and giggles.

“No,” I say, standing with my back straight, ready for anything. “This is a tattoo shop.”

They both look confused. The strong drugs burning through their brains like acid probably aren’t helping.

“We should get matching tattoos!” the girl says when my words finally get through the hazy fog in her head. “We’re soulmates.”

“Definitely,” the man says.

“We don’t serve people in your condition,” Jess says, taking a drag of her cigarette.

The man reaches into his dirty jacket and pulls out a wad of money. My eyes turn into dollar signs as I stare at the thick pile of Benjamin Franklins in his hand. That could pay my personal and work bills for the next two months.

So what if they’re a tad fucked up? If they want a tattoo and are willing to pay for it, then I should give it to them. Otherwise, they’re just going to go to another shop down the street.

Why shouldn’t I take their money? Sure, it’s a tad unethical, but I really need the cash.

When he stuffs the wad of bills into my hand, my ethical dilemma vanishes.

“What can I get you and where?” I ask, slipping the money into my pocket.

“I want her name,” the guy says, wrapping his muscular arm around his deep-fried girl. “What’s your name?”

The girl looks up at the sky for a second. “I think it starts with a D. I want your name tattooed on me too, on my forehead like hers,” she says, pointing at Jess.

I swallow hard. I’ll take their money, I’ll give them tattoos, but I’m not tattooing their faces no matter how much they beg me for it.

So what if they don’t even know each other’s names and are likely to regret it in the morning? This is Vegas. This town was built on regrets.

Who am I to deny this nice couple their true Vegas experience?

They both pull out their drivers’ licenses and are trying to read them. The chick has hers upside down.

“Let me help you with that,” Jess says, slowly taking it from them. “Tyler and Dahlia.”

“That’s it!” Tyler says, pointing at Jess. “We’re soulmates.”

“Awesome!” I say, taking a deep breath as I open the door. “Then let’s go get some tattoos!”