“Looks like it hurt.”
“Like a son of a bitch.” Nicky pulled away his smoke and put his shirt back on. “Got it on my eighteenth birthday. Filling it in took three sessions.”
“Hell of a way to turn legal.”
“Mm-hm.” Nicky took another drag. “What about you? Got any sweet tats hiding away under all that…?” He gestured lamely at Wesley’s clothes.
“Me? No, no way.”
“Why no way?”
“I hate needles.”
Nicky laughed, throwing his head back. “Me too, man.” Finishing his cigarette, Nicky snubbed it under his sneaker. “Night’s still young. You got plans?”
“Eh. Figured I’d probably just…sleep.”
“On a Saturday? What are you, eighty?”
“Lay off, I worked today. Plus, tonight f*****g blew chunks. I’m tired.”
“Hey, we weren’t that bad, were we?”
“No, not this.” Wes dug his hands into his pockets an
