by Mj Fields
“Mainly because he broke every fucking one of them,” Kiki quips.
“I’m adding one. No being dumb. You sound dumb when you say fuck every other word, not adult.”
“It’s a great word,” Max, my thirteen-year-old brother, defends her. “Very versatile.”
“Okay, Max, go ahead and play the dumb card even harder. But it’s true. Spend a little less time trying to be a thug and a little more time broadening your vocabulary.”
I look at Tris. “No boy deserves to touch your twelve-year-old boobs.”
“It’s not about the boy. My boobs deserve to be touched and admired,” she replies flippantly.
“Dear God, they haven’t even fully checked in yet! They’re at an awkward stage. And,” I huff, “And, you ever look at a penny from the 60s?”
She looks at me like I’m nuts.
“They’ve been handled enough that they lost their luster. You want your tits to look like a worn penny before they are even fully developed?”
She looks horrified, and I feel bad that I’m full of shit … but only a little.
“You all think I’m being a pussy? Well, guess what. I’m not. I’m the OG of this little crew, and you need to remember and respect that position. No dating until you’re at least sixteen. And even though some of you are close, hang tight. No drinking because it’s illegal, not because it’s your parents’ rules. No drugs; same as drinking, and it’s stupid to trust anyone who hands you a pill, powder, or something to smoke—you don’t touch it. You don’t know their intentions. And no decorating because you have no clue if what you put on your body is something you’ll want forever.”
I watch them all look at each other.
“What? What have you already done?”
Patrick, Kiki, Truth, and Justice hold up their middle fingers.
“Oh, real mature. And you—”
“Decorating,” Max says. “When we’re thirteen, we get inked.”
“By who!” I gasp.
I catch their sideways glance at Justice, and then they all put their hands back down.
After several moments, Justice shines his light on the inside of his middle finger, and I see the words Forever Steel.
“You all have these?” I ask.
The four of them nod.
“And Justice did it?”
Only Justice nods.
“It’s against their rules,” I scold them.
They hold eye contact, none letting out the unspoken tough shit words fly around in their adolescent minds, but I see them.
I cave, “But not mine.”
“You won’t tell?” Kiki asks.
“Not if he does mine when we get back home.”
They look relieved.
They aren’t getting off that easily.
“If I had to live by them, so do you. At least until you’re of age. And then, you talk to me, to each other, and if all else fails, you call in the big guns.”
“Momma Joe,” they all say together.
“And seriously, drugs are for thugs, and we’re not thugs.”
“We’re Steel.” Justice nods.
“We’re Steel,” I agree.
“If we agree to this,” Kiki draws my attention back to her, “you gotta agree to live your life the way you want it and not how they expect.”
“I have been, Kiki, and I’ve done it by respecting them enough to live by the core of their rules, their values. You do the same.”
“But you’re going to work with them, not do what you went to school for?” Max asks. “The TV thing?”
“I’m going to work for them until a better opportunity comes up,” I whisper as I sit back down. “The job market is tough, and I’m grateful I have a job right out of college. I’m thankful I have my education paid for, which they did for me by working hard. And I’m thankful I have all of you. I’m not giving up on my dreams. I’m waiting for something spectacular.”
“Well, promise us you’ll look, because we all have dreams, you know,” Kiki states. “And if you don’t do that, the rest of us are going to have one fu … heck of a time when we’re up.”
I’m still awake when they all finally pass out. It’s a wonder the rest of the kids didn’t wake up. I suspect they were pretending to be asleep. If they heard me, oh well; it’s not like they didn’t need to hear it, too.
I wait a few more moments then reach for my bag. I pull out my sweatshirt and a pair of leggings, throw them on, and then pull my swimsuit top off from under it and toss it aside. I then grab the small bag containing my toothbrush and toothpaste, facial toilettes, moisturizer, and the ointment and cleanser to take care of my tattoo.
When I walk out, I see them all sitting in lounge chairs on the deck outside the dining room. Dad, Cyrus, Zandor, Xavier, Abe, Dominic, Sabato, Franco, and Pace.
Shit.
I turn left and see Carly, Tara, Bekah, Taelyn, Nikki, Laney, Melyssa, and Momma Joe.
“Not quite a united front,” I joke as I walk between them, thinking about the movie The Green Mile and expecting them all to yell out, “Dead Man Walking.”
Dad stands. “Who’s the thug who tagged you, Bella?”
I freeze, having no idea what to say. If I say I don’t know, I look like the asshole that I am. If I answer honestly, Dad’s going to jail.
“Me.”
I look left as Momma Joe stands.
“With all due respect, Momma Joe, bullshit.”
“With all due respect, it’s my adult decision to make, just like hooking up with him would have been.” I point a finger at Pace.
Pace runs a hand up and down his face.
“You don’t hookup!” Dad snaps.
“I did six years of college, managed to make the Dean’s list every semester, and graduated with honors. I’m sorry to disappoint you, Dad, I may have left home at eighteen with my V-card, but it got punched a few times. Now, it’s late. I’m going to take care of my tattoo, and then I’m going back to the kiddie pool. And by the way, you need to sway your focus from me to them. I was a cake walk in comparison to what you all have going on in there.” That said, I hurry to get away from them and find a bathroom.
Standing in front of the mirror, I wash my face and am not at all surprised when Dad walks in.
“You love him ’cause he’s inked next to the women you love, a part of you forever now.”
“It can be fixed if I don’t.”
He leans against the wall and looks at my reflection in the mirror as I apply moisturizer.
“When can I beat him?”
“Beat him?” I gasp.
“I mean meet. When can I meet the boy who marked the skin that was mine to protect?”
“How about half past never?”
I hear a giggle from outside.
Dad rolls his eyes. “Carly, get in here.”
Thank God, I think to myself.
She walks in, and I see all the others standing behind her.
“Christ, really?” Dad snarls.
“The men are waiting for a name. The women want to hear about the man who Bella is dating.” Carly smiles. “You may want to protect her body; we want to teach her how to deal with men like you.”
“Men like us?” Dad and my uncles huff.
“Oh, most definitely,” Tara pipes in. “We can’t wait to meet him.”
“They broke up,” Bekah whispers.
“Yeah right.” Carly laughs. “Been there, done that, and—”
“Baby, not now.” Dad shakes his head.
“I think you should give her space. It’s late,” Momma Joe interjects.
“Yeah, Jase, it’s late.” Carly smiles a sloppy, I’ve-had-a-few-too-many-drinks kind of smile.
He looks at her then at me, and then his eyes dart back to her and widen.
I brush my teeth, and spit in the sink as I watch the way they look at each other, in the mirror. If it weren’t my parents, it would be swoony.
I continue brushing.
“Go. You can g
rill me later for information you’re not going to get.”
Dad’s eyes leave Carly and narrow at me. “I could pass that around every fucking shop in New York and see whose book it’s in. Easily find out who the asshole is.”
Carly grabs his hand. “But you won’t.”
“And it’s not in a book. It was done freehand, his design.”
“No shit?” Xavier pushes into the tiny room. “Lemme see that.”
“You kidding me, X?” Dad snaps.
“No, not at all.” He laughs then looks at my reflection as I spit the rest of the paste out in the sink. “You mind?”
Sucking the water off my toothbrush, I lift the back of my shirt.
“Damn.” Xavier nods then looks up. “Looks …” He stops and laughs. “Free hand?”
I nod as I wipe my mouth.
Zandor leans in and laughs. “He may be better than—”
“Watch it, asshole,” Dad snaps.
Zandor laughs. “Check the ego. I was talking about Cyrus.”
Well, his son sure caught the bug, I think.
“You ever miss it?” Tara asks Cyrus, I’m assuming.
“Every day,” Cyrus states. Then he leans in the doorway and looks at my back. “You like this guy, Bella?”
For four hours, I liked him a lot.
“I did.”
“And now you don’t?” He asks confused.
I don’t even know his name. I laugh at how pathetic that sounds even in my own head. But I’m playing a game, so I shrug as I start to wash the spot on my back where he now resides permanently.
“Easy, Bella.” Dad sighs, taking the damp cloth from me and gently swiping over it.
Now I want to cry.
“You need to let this heal, then I’ll fix it.”
Silence hangs over us like a lead balloon.
I look in the mirror at everyone’s shocked expressions.
“She is, dot, dot, dot—like the others—then me, not mine, that good?” His eyes meet mine as he reaches over and grabs the ointment, and I nod. “Gonna have to carry it for a few months, then I fix it.”
A tear falls down my face as he turns me around.
“No decorating, Bella. That last D is the one that tends to leave the biggest mark.”
You’re not kidding, I think.
“I should have done it when you asked. I’ll bear the burden, but you don’t do that shit again.”
“You’re not the easiest person to talk to.”
“I get that.” He hugs me. “This doesn’t mean I’m not pissed, Little Bell.”
And I get that, I think.
“I’m tired.” I step back.
He looks me over and nods. “We can talk tomorrow.”
“About what?” I shake my head.
“About the assholes I need to fuck up who touched you.”
“Dad, really? I thought—”
“I’m your father,” he says sternly.
“And I’m your daughter,” I retort just as sternly.
“And good luck to both of you.” Momma Joe laughs from outside.
New Position
Bella
The last day of our trip, I avoided everyone by faking sick. I wasn’t physically, but emotionally, I was a ball of stress. The plane ride home, I did the same thing. Have been for a couple days. And now, as I lie in my bed, I feel even worse.
When someone knocks on the door then opens it, I roll to my side so that my back faces them.
“Hey, you.” It’s Carly. “Are you feeling any better?”
I sit up and turn toward her. “I’m fine.”
She sits down and hands me a plate with a sandwich on it.
I take the plate. “Thanks, Momma Carly.”
“You’re upset and avoiding your father. You’re not too young to hear this. He and I had a rough start. I feel your pain Bella. I’m hear if you need a nonjudgmental ear.”
“I’m avoiding him because I really don’t like disappointing him, but also because I want to karate kick him off that high horse of his.”
“I un—”
“And I don’t want to karate kick him because you two are going to have your hands full with Kiki and Max.”
She sighs. “Oh, we already do.”
“Like seriously—”
“We heard what you said to all of them. Not the whispered part, but the part where you yelled at them.” She smirks. “God, I wish I knew the rest, but I understand there are things you just don’t tell your parents and, contrary to what your father thinks, it’s not some new age bullshit. It’s part of growing up.”
“I’m aware it’s not new age bullshit, Carly.”
I look at Dad as he walks in. He sits on the bed and reaches for the other half of my sandwich.
Carly bats his hand away. “You ate.”
“Baby, I will paddle your ass if you do that shit again,” he replies jokingly, leaning against the headboard, and then he looks at me. “I’m proud of you, Bella, but that ink pisses me off.”
“Everything pisses you off,” I say with my mouth full to drive the point home. He doesn’t like us talking with our mouths full.
He clenches his jaw, ensuring he doesn’t give me any more ammunition.
“I’m a grown woman.”
“Still my little Bell. The same girl—”
“Please don’t.”
He huffs and runs his hand through his hair. “That’s who you are to me and always will be.”
“And you’re always going to be my dad, but seriously, your job is done. You did good, if I dare say so myself.”
He smirks, trying to hide it by running his hand over his face. Then he looks at me. “A father’s job is never done. And some punk—”
“My choice,” I half-lie.
We stare at one another.
“If I ever need you to kick an ass, I’ll let you know.”
“Dad!” Max yells. “Dad!”
I smile. “Max needs you.”
“Max needs an ass kicking.” He smirks.
“DAD!”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he grumbles as he pushes himself off my bed, leans down, and kisses my forehead. “We’d planned two days at the beach, but you can’t go in the water for two weeks. It’s an open wound, Bella.”
“We can still go to the beach; I just can’t go in the water.”
He nods once. “We can hit Wildwood instead. Ride some rides.”
“I’m good with the beach.”
“You sure?” Carly asks.
“Of course.”
“Then Monday, it’s Steel Inc. And for real this time, no internship.”
I nod because that’s a fight for another day.
Lying on my stomach under the cabana that Dad rented, my phone rings.
I lift it and look at the screen. I can’t really see it because of the sun’s glare, but I hit accept anyway.
“Hello?”
“Isabella Steel?”
“This is she.”
“This is David Gorgon, executive producer of 50 Shades of Ink.”
I can’t help chuckling at the name of the show and how everyone seems to feed off E.L. James’s success from the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. I hope she gets royalties from all of those who do.
He continues without pause, “You were on our list of candidates for production assistants, and because you didn’t really look the part, we moved down the list.”
Asshole, I think.
“We had a position become available today and would like to give you the opportunity.”
Holding back my excitement I say as calmly as possible, “I appreciate it.”
“You may not when you meet the assholes you’ll be working with. It’s not an easy job. It’s badass men who don’t play all that well with others, all pitted against each other, which makes for an occasional unhappy workplace.”
“I know how to deal with badass tattoo types.”
He laughs. “I’m not sure you know what you’re agreeing t
o, sweetheart, but your references seem to think you’re an ass-buster. If you’re willing, get yourself to Miami; we need you here tonight, ready for tomorrow.”
Sitting up, I can’t contain the excitement. “Will you shoot me an email with the details?”
“Doing it …” He pauses. “Done.”
“Thank you so much, Mr. Gorgon.”
He laughs. “I hope you’re still thanking me when it’s all over by the first of the year.”
“I appreciate the opportunity.”
“We appreciate the acceptance. We’ll give you a couple of the easier cast members to produce.”
“I’d prefer to go balls deep, sir.”
He chuckles. “You really don’t want that, Isabella.”
Looking at my father and uncles playing full contact frisbee, I smile. “I think you’d be surprised at just how much I can deal with.”
“You pull this off, and I can guarantee you’ll have a job with us until you look in the mirror and think, what the hell am I living like this for?” He laughs.
I hear commotion in the background.
“For fuck’s sake!” he snaps. “I have an issue to take care of. See you later, Isabella.”
“See you later, Mr. Gorgon.”
Hanging up, I jump up and scream, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
The “crew” all come running with looks of concern in their eyes. Annoying but adorable.
I grab Kiki and hug her. “I got a job.”
“You got a job.” She looks skeptically hopeful.
“I got a job!” I shake her.
“You got a job?” Max beams.
I pull him into a hug. “I got a job!”
“You got a job?” It’s Brand Falcon, friends of the family’s teenage son.
I pull him in and hug him. “I got a job!”
“You hug me any closer, I’m gonna give you a new one.”
I push him away.
“Sorry, Bella, but you’re just so fucking hot.”
The little shit, who is now taller than me, has crushed on me for as long as I can remember. He has even serenaded me at family/friend gatherings and told people he was going to marry me. I would be flattered, if not for the fact that he’s seventeen and, due to the fame, his head has grown too big for his cowboy hat—he’s since begun sporting a backward baseball cap.
