Brawler

by Tracey Ward

  I had to get someone to drive me, but I couldn’t tell anyone where I was going. Laney was gone, Karen would never let me leave to get a tattoo right now, and Dan had left to go to work. I couldn’t ask Jenna to come get me because my first deadly sin always had been and always would be Pride.

  Finally, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t touched in over a year. One I hoped still worked.

  “Kellen Coulter!” Callum shouted through the phone, making me wince and grin at the same time. “You old, dirty bitch! Where are you?”

  “Laney’s house. I know it’s been a long time, but I was wondering if I could ask you a favor?”

  “Anything you need, bro. Always.”

  “Could I get a ride to a tattoo shop in Bakersfield?” I asked, feeling like a loser and piss poor person. “I know it’s a long drive and a lot to ask, but I’m going up to get a tat from Jenna and—“

  “I’m on my way,” he cut me off. “Sit tight.”

  “Are you sure, man? It’s—“

  He hung up on me.

  Half an hour later he was cruising down the street in the same pickup he’d had since high school, slowing down to pick me up. Just as I was closing in on the truck, a dark brown pit bull jumped up and hung his head over the side of the truck bed, watching me closely.

  I took a surprised step back.

  “Don’t be scared of him!” Callum called through the open back window. He got out and stood on the other side of the truck. “He’s a softy.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Lucifer.” I cast him a doubtful look and he laughed. “Nah, I’m fucking you. It’s Argie.”

  I put my hand out to let the dog sniff it. He slobbered and snorted all around it as I softly said his name over and over again. It wasn’t long before he sat back in the bed, his tail swishing over the dirty metal, scattering dust and leaves.

  “You got a way with animals,” Callum commented. “I never knew that about you.”

  I rubbed Argie behind his ears. “I love animals. I’ve never been able to have one, though.”

  “He obviously likes you.”

  I smirked. “They know they’re own kind.”

  Callum suddenly came around the truck and shoved me roughly in the shoulder until I was standing up straight in front of him. He threw his arms around me and hugged me tightly. A little too tightly.

  I grunted in pain as my ribs screamed in protest.

  “Sorry, dude,” he said, quickly letting me go. “I couldn’t help it. I’m happy to see you still alive.”

  “You heard?”

  “That you died? Yeah, I heard. The whole crew knows.”

  “What crew?”

  “The old team.” Callum laughed at my confused expression. “Just because you don’t keep in touch with anyone from high school doesn’t mean none of us do.”

  “Yeah,” I mumbled, feeling like shit, “sorry about that. I didn’t mean to lose touch, but—“

  “But your woman took over your life,” he finished knowingly.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know that Laney took over, but I definitely wasn’t in the driver’s seat. More like I was coasting.”

  “Either way.”

  “Yeah, not good. I know. I’m trying to get it together again.”

  He hitched his thumb over his shoulder toward the Monroe Mansion behind him. “You and Laney still getting married?”

  I ran my hand over my face once, avoiding his eyes.

  “Is this awkward silence a yes or a no?” he pushed.

  “It’s a gray area.”

  “Did you just break up with her? Am I a getaway vehicle for a known felon?”

  “No, I haven’t done it yet.”

  “Why the fuck not?” he asked incredulously. “You should have done it years ago.”

  “Yeah, I know, but—“

  “But nothing,” he said emphatically. “Get that taken care of. ASAP.”

  I threw my hands up in frustration. “I’m tired from standing here talking to you. I’m sweating, do you see this? I can’t drive a car, I can’t stand long enough to make a sandwich, and I can barely wipe my own ass. I don’t know that it’s a great time for me to be making huge life changing moves. I’ve got a nasty habit of making bad choices when things get rough. I’m taking my time. I’m thinking things through.”

  “You pussy.”

  “Are you serious?” I asked angrily.

  “You know you are,” he spat back. “It’s simple. Do you want to marry Laney?”

  I sighed, leaning against the truck. “No.”

  “Then don’t.” He grinned, slapping me on the chest. “I just solved your world for you, bro. You got any other problems you want me to fix? Should we tackle world peace?”

  “I’d rather get to Bakersfield and get this tattoo.”

  Callum chuckled, opening my door for me. “Well, then get in, sweetheart. I’ll get your there safe and sound, but I’m setting one boundary right now – I’m not wiping your ass for you.”

  “Deal,” I grunted as I hoisted myself inside and entered the familiar smell and feel of the vehicle.

  It was exactly as I remembered it. Still littered with empty Mt. Dew Amped containers and the jiggly Hawaiian dancer was forever suction cupped to his dashboard, only now she was missing an eye. It looked like it had been burned out.

  “What happened there?” I asked, pointing to the horror movie extra on his dash.

  “Oh, that,” he grumbled angrily, getting behind the wheel. “Some crazy whore I dated. She was a smoker. Put her cig out on Penelope’s eye when I broke up with her.”

  “Vicious.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  An hour later we were halfway to Bakersfield and I knew that Callum was living with his dad, Brett. In the divorce his dad had given his wife just about everything, including the house and the cars. She’d then gone and married some producer from a hit TV sitcom just this year. A guy met through Brett years before. A guy with a lot of money and making more every day.

  Brett opened his restaurant with what money he did manage to keep from his ex-wife and it was doing all right. He’d gone with Italian. New places like that, though, they took time to start turning a profit. In the meantime he and Callum were working their asses off and not seeing a lot return on their efforts. Callum’s degree from USC in business was paying off, but his dad had guilt about him ‘wasting his time’ with his old man. They’d had a fight only last month about Callum taking money from his mom and her new husband to get himself a place of his own, money Callum turned down. He didn’t have the aversion to the man’s money the way I did with my dad, but he was more interested in what he could make on his own working for the restaurant than being a freeloader.

  I hated that our friendship had disappeared last year because it sounded like we had more in common now than we ever had before.

  Not long after Callum had filled me in on his life, I fell asleep. I didn’t mean to, but I dozed a lot lately. I kept telling myself it was my body’s way of getting stronger, but in the meantime it felt pretty weak. I was more toddler than man lately and it was killing me.

  I fell asleep to Callum talking and woke up to him leaning in close, caressing my cheek with the backs of his fingers and staring deep into my eyes.

  “You’re so beautiful when you dream,” he whispered breathily.

  I shoved him away, pulling back until I was pressed hard against the passenger door. “Fuck you,” I mumbled, rubbing my hands over my face to erase the feel of his fingers.

  He laughed hysterically, gripping his sides. “It was too easy! I couldn’t resist!”

  “It shouldn’t have even crossed your mind.”

  “How could it not? Look at you. You’re sex on toast.”

  “Shut up,” I grumbled, glancing around. “This is it?”

  “Yep. You have reached your destination.”

  I stared at the exterior of the building, feeling suddenly nervous. “Do you
want to go in with me? Say hi?”

  “Nope,” Callum answered bluntly. “She and her dad were at the house a month ago for beers and brats. I’ve seen her.”

  “How long does it take to get a tattoo?”

  “Depends on the size. Probably a couple hours at least.”

  “What are you going to do for two hours?”

  “Go see a movie. Get a beej from a street walker. What do you care? Go inside, man. Quit stalling.”

  I opened the door, feeling nervous and stupid. My legs were Jell-O from sitting for too long and my muscles were in sleep mode. I worried what would happen when I let go of the truck, but Callum didn’t give me much choice. The second I touched asphalt, he pulled away, blowing me kisses out the back window.

  I had to walk up and down the block a few times before I felt steady enough to go inside without looking like the cripple I knew I was, and I was surprised by the neighborhood Jenna was working in. It wasn’t as bad as where I’d grown up, but this place was for real. You didn’t leave your car unlocked and you sure as hell shouldn’t come down here at night by yourself. I was a little relieved Karen had never come here and I got the impression Jenna didn’t make a big deal of that fact for a reason – if Karen knew one of her children was working here, she’d never stop fighting against it.

  I lifted my shirt and wiped my forehead quickly with the hem before taking hold of the door handle. I felt like a wreck, but the second I stepped inside, I forgot all about it.

  Jenna was sitting behind the small front desk with a pen flipping back and forth in her hand rapidly. She smiled broadly when she saw me.

  “Hey. Welcome to Black Ink.”

  I looked around, taking it all in carefully and thinking how natural she looked sitting in this room full of worn, scuffed leather furniture, red walls, and the sickest artwork I had ever seen in my life plastering every available surface. “How have I never been here before?”

  “Don’t beat yourself up,” she told me easily. “Laney and mom haven’t either.”

  “But your dad has?”

  “Oh yeah. He and Bryce talk college football for hours.”

  “Bryce is your boss?”

  “And mentor, yeah,” a guy said, coming up behind her and shaking my hand. He was a little taller than I was, older by close to ten years, covered in tats, and sporting a military short haircut. “Nice to meet you, man. Good to see you up and around. You had our girl worried for a while.”

  I grinned as I shook his hand, taking an immediate liking to the guy. “Thanks, good to meet you too. Sorry I stole her away from you for so long.”

  “You needed her more than we did.”

  “Yeah, I did.” I gave her a pointed look. “Still do, but she’s abandoned me.”

  She sighed impatiently. “It was one night and people made you delicious soup. I’m sure you’ll get over it someday.”

  “I doubt it, but I’ll try.”

  She stood up from behind the desk and gestured me forward. “Are you ready to get your first tattoo?”

  “Definitely,” I said, following her to the back of the shop.

  She led me to an area that must have been hers because there were drawings I recognized all over the walls with pictures of her family and friends peppered in. When I saw one of just her and I smiling together on the beach with my arm slung over her shoulders, I nearly pulled it from the wall to look at it more closely. Or to reach inside, slap the idiot in the face, and tell him to get his act together that day instead of waiting five years for it to all blow up in his face in a Molotov Cocktail of regret.

  She flipped a sketchpad in front of me to show the tattoo she had roughed out the day before, and I was immediately drawn to it. This, the pen and charcoal with the shading and smudges she was so adept at, is what I had been looking for.

  “Were these in the drawing you sent me?” I asked, tracing the center of the cross where I found my mom’s initials.

  MC

  “Yeah,” she answered quietly.

  “I didn’t see them.”

  “It was small.”

  “You remembered her name.”

  “Madeline, yeah. Of course I did,” she said, nodding.

  I looked at her in amazement. “I only ever told you the one time and that was years ago.”

  “I know,” she replied with a wan smile, “but when you talk, I listen.”

  We looked at each other for a lingering moment, one that started to feel heavy. Weighted the way the night in the kitchen had been. Jenna was quick to cut it short.

  “Alright,” she said curtly, pulling her sketchpad back, “where do you want it?”

  “Where do you think I should put it?”

  She shrugged. “That’s up to you. It’s your tat, it’s your body.”

  “My chest,” I said immediately. “Over my heart.”

  She nodded in understanding, avoiding my eyes.

  “That’s where you got your first, isn’t it?” I challenged.

  “Yep.”

  “Can I see it?”

  She forced a chuckle as she arranged her equipment, sometimes moving the same item more than once. “You’ve seen it plenty of times.”

  “Never up close. There’s never been a chance to really look at it.”

  I was playing with fire, but I didn’t care. When she relented and turned toward me, carefully pulling her shirt down just enough to expose the artwork, I sat forward and traced the pattern with my eyes, and only my eyes. I kept my hands carefully in place at my sides as I examined her skin and I lingered longer than I needed to. My eyes wandered from the ink to her collar bone, to her long neck, her strong jaw, her full mouth.

  “It’s really good,” I told her softly, sitting back. “Bryce did that?”

  She let her shirt snap back in place. “Yeah. He did it on my eighteenth birthday.”

  “I should have come with you,” I said, feeling guilty that I hadn’t. I hadn’t been there at all, in fact.

  “You were busy with Laney stuff.”

  “Yeah, but it was your birthday. And a big one.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “It does to me.”

  “It didn’t then,” she shot back, her voice going tight.

  “Yeah, it did,” I asserted gently, not put off by her anger because I earned it, “but I was caught up in other shit and I couldn’t get out.”

  “Other shit as in my sister.”

  “Among other things. I was on a track—”

  “On a bullet train,” she cut me off, quoting me from the park.

  “And I didn’t know how to get off,” I said, finishing the sentence I hadn’t been able to that day.

  Finally she looked at me again, her eyes guarded. “What about now? Now where are you?”

  “Now I’m pulling the e-brake.”

  I watched her chest rise and fall rapidly as her heart thrummed in her throat.

  “Kellen,” she said slowly, softly, “what are we talking about here?”

  “Tattoos and trains. That’s it.”

  “Really? ‘Cause it seems like a lot more.”

  I searched her eyes. “Judging from the look on your face you can’t handle more, so for now it’s tattoos and trains.”

  “What look on my face?”

  “The one that says you’re scared as shit of what I’m saying to you.”

  “I’m not scared. I’m worried.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re going through a lot right now. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret. Maybe now is not a great time for big decisions or canceling plans.”

  “Better now than when it’s too late.”

  “Kel—“

  I sat forward until we were nearly touching. “Jenna, I’ve never been so clear in all my life. I’ve never been so sure about the things I want than I am right now.”

  “What do you want?”

  I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to hold her, to tell her I loved her, to take her to bed and
know I could do it without losing myself and her and everything that mattered, and as she leaned in closer so that our lips were almost touching, I wondered what was stopping me.

  You’re still engaged, dumbass, I thought bitterly.

  I sat back slowly, holding her eyes so she knew it wasn’t a retreat. I wasn’t running, I wasn’t afraid; I simply wasn’t ready and I was going to do this right with her this time. I wasn’t going to let timing and my own idiocy fuck us up again.

  “For now,” I told her softly, “I want a tattoo.”

  She nodded slowly, her face looking both disappointed and relieved. “You got it.”

  I pulled my shirt off over my head and laid back on the chair. Jenna took the thin paper she’d traced the tattoo out on and placed it over my chest carefully. I kept my eyes on the ceiling and my mind out of the gutter as she worked. She was going to touch me. It was going to happen and it was part of her job. I needed to remember that.

  “Put your arm out here,” she told me, tugging my arm away from my side so that she could sit closer to me. “Not too far. You don’t want to stretch your skin weird because the tattoo will follow it.”

  “Around your waist like this?” I ran my arm around her, wrapping it securely at her hips to circle her in close against my side.

  “Yeah, perfect,” she whispered.

  She sat forward over my chest and got to work. I kept my eyes focused up on the ceiling and I didn’t speak to her. I didn’t know if she usually talked to clients as she worked, but with her sitting this close to me, my arm around her, and her hands on my bare chest, nothing felt like a safe topic. Everything felt like it could end with me pulling her down on top of me.

  I didn’t realized I’d run my fingers over the bare skin of her lower back until she shivered against me, but once I knew, I couldn’t stop. I laid my hand more firmly against her to erase the ticklish feeling I’d accidentally given her, then I moved more deliberately. Just my fingertips making light, absent circles over her soft skin in an easy rhythm that fell in time with the buzz of her machine. She didn’t shiver again and she didn’t tell me to stop, so I didn’t. I silently caressed her back for hours as she worked, and it was so damn intimate I felt myself falling inside as I did it.

  This was new for me. This was touching without intent. I wasn’t looking to get her naked, I wasn’t looking to arouse her or myself. I was touching her simply because the feel of her under my palm was something I enjoyed. It was comforting, soothing, and if it hadn’t been for the constant pin pricks of the needle she used to ink her gift into my skin, I could have easily fallen peacefully to sleep like that.