Justice Tattoo

QR Codes and barcodes dotted her skin. She was a walking billboard with enough graffiti on the Bugatti to make it look like she had been printed out altogether.

Abby Cantilever wore her tattoos on her face and intimate regions. All of them advertised her business which consisted of sneakers, piercings, and of course tattoos.

She opened shops in Wilmington, Delaware. A master businesswoman, she looked at balance sheets and could print the best insignias from the American Armed Forces with equal aplomb.

“Kessie!” Her assistant and right hand girl Billie Moldonando called.

“What’s up?”

“I think we should expand nationwide. Maybe even have spots around the globe.”

“Girl, we haven’t even reached all of Delaware yet,” she laughed. “Shut up,” she giggled some more.

“C’mon, I’m serious. We could take our business global and let everyone know that the best tattoo artist is from the First State.”

“I don’t know. I like the local feel. Don’t think I haven’t contemplated it. I just looked at the figures. They don’t add up.”

Billie looked at her client and finished a tattoo in his mouth that read, “Loyal and Royal.”

“Remember to keep gauze over it and to apply the gel every few hours.” The man whipped out his smartphone and scanned Billie’s forehead. The bill came to $320.

She shook hands with him as the transaction was approved. He left just as soon as he entered.

Billie cleaned offer utensils and straightened up her work area. She kept her composure as she made the needles cleaner than a set of Marine dress blues on November 10.

“I mean since you brought it up…why did you bring it up?” Kessie asked Billie.

“I just thought we could bring our business to the forefront. I don’t know. I mean we could be on a reality show or something, you know?”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

“Why not?”

“First of all, taxes are kicking my ass. It’s cool and all that Delaware is sales tax-free but the federal, state, and city taxes are a bitch. I can’t,” Kessie admitted.

“Let’s start a petition.”

“A what?”

“It’s like an order of—”

“I know what a petition is. Why a petition?”

“To let everyone know that Delaware should be the first completely tax-free state.”

“We’re running a sneaker and tattoo shop, Bil’. What have we got to do with the way the government works? We’re just part of the system.”

“But it could be so much better than anything we’ve ever experienced. We would be able to keep the money we’ve earned. We would be able to say that we as Wilmingtonians as Delawareans we can broadcast to the country, to the world that the Diamond State could make history once again.”

Kessie shook her head. It wasn’t incredulity just a forlorn sense of what she wanted but felt could never be. She got up from her seat around the counter and began counting cash. There was very little. Actually, it was just enough for change as most of the transactions were all digital. Right on her forehead. An intricate level of codes all corresponded to the types of art that the client wished to display. Kessie’s interest grew.

“It would help alleviate the burden of having to file and pay taxes every year.”

“Exactly!”

“And we could use a few more chairs in our locations around the city.”

Billie glowed like a neon sign.

“So….” she suggested.

“I’m on board with the petition,” Kessie said.

“But we’ve got to be thorough about this. We must not let emotions take over in any way.”

“Of course.”

The two women drafted the petition on a smartphone. They checked for spelling and grammatical errors. They rechecked and revised over and over. Each of them held masters degrees from New Sweden University. It didn’t take them long. They just wanted it to be neat, precise and concise. It was a single page.

“Do you think we can handle the backlash?” Kessie asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I can already see men in black suits and sunglasses running down on us to stop our shop and do damage to us. Maybe worse,” Kessie explained.

“Don’t worry about all of that. If there is strength in numbers, we will be able to surmount whatever government goons may throw at us.”

“And the private sector?”

“What about it?”

“They’re going to be shaking in their boots.”