by Zoey Parker
“You’re a natural,” Nancy had beamed in approval as she admired Brittany’s work. Currently, Brittany only worked on existing templates within the parlor, but soon she hoped to start integrating some of her own designs into the rotation. The thought of someone having something she drew herself inked onto their body permanently made her feel giddy with excitement.
“Sounds like it’s all going well,” Zack had stated flatly when she gushed to him about her job over the phone.
“Oh, it is,” Brittany insisted brightly. “Though I miss you, of course.”
“I doubt that you do,” Zack objected sullenly.
“Of course I do!” Brittany cried. “Nancy keeps saying that you need to come and visit the parlor again soon.”
“Nancy said that?” something lightened in Zack’s tone.
“Yeah,” Brittany smiled to herself. “I think she might have a crush on you.”
“Really?” Zack cleared his throat. “I mean, it’s no big deal. If I came over to Colridge again, it’d be to see you, not her.”
“Hmm, whatever,” Brittany shrugged casually. What was nice about talking to Zack on the phone since her move to Colridge, was that their calls felt more like the sort of conversations, siblings should be having. They were no longer crushed beneath the weight of things unsaid. They were both getting on with their lives but still keeping in touch with each other. It was all very healthy, very normal, and it made Brittany happy.
She thought about how happy she was with Max and wished that Zack could find some of that kind of happiness for himself. During their conversations she’d yet to bring up the fact that she was seeing someone. Zack had been so understanding about everything so far, but she sensed that her suddenly having a boyfriend might be enough to send Zack off the deep end.
“Baby steps,” Brittany kept telling herself.
She’d come this far. She couldn’t help but daydream about going further, about one day riding off into the sunset on the back of Max’ motorcycle as they embarked on their whistle stop tour of America together.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Max’ hands were slick with grease. The dismantled parts of his motorcycle were scattered around him as if there had been an explosion. His bike was struggling to start. As much as Max wished he could be spending the day with Brittany, he was forced to hang out in the parking lot of the motel, trying to fix his bike.
“You know, son, there’s a right decent mechanic up in town,” an old man commented as he shuffled out towards his pick-up truck, backlit by the morning light as he looked down at Max.
“Thanks,” Max smiled kindly at the old man. “But I’d rather try and fix her up myself, save some money.”
“He’s pretty cheap,” the old man insisted. He nodded towards his truck. “I could give you a run down there, pile her up in the back.”
It was such a kind offer, Max was pained to turn it down. But the second the mechanic took a look at his bike he’d know who Max was, and more importantly, where he was from. The emblem for the Kings was etched within the engine’s interior, like a secret brand. Back home, that emblem was all Max needed to get a free service on his bike. But here in Colridge, if someone saw it, they’d likely break his jaw. And the last thing Max needed was trouble. He was trying to stay in town as long as possible because being in town meant being with Brittany. If he stirred up too much noise, his Uncle would call him back in a heartbeat.
“That’s mighty kind, but I really can’t put you out like that.” Max hoped that the old man would accept his refusal and not push him anymore. He gave a sigh of relief when the old man nodded and started sauntering over to his truck.
“Suit yourself,” he called over his shoulder to Max. “Was just trying to help you out.”
Max watched the truck sputter out of the parking lot before returning his attention to his bike. He usually found working on it to be therapeutic, but currently his mind was as dismantled as the engine around him. He kept thinking about the last time he’d seen Brittany, and about what she’d told him about her relationship with her brother. It certainly sounded intense. And Max couldn’t help but wonder, given their history, why he hadn’t met Brittany’s brother yet. Was there more to the story? Would his level of protectiveness threaten Max’ relationship with Brittany?
His hand tightened angrily around the wrench he was holding. Max realized that he’d be willing to fight for Brittany, that her brother wasn’t the only one who felt protective towards her. But perhaps her brother’s feelings were just normal, especially given the extreme circumstances they’d grown up under.
Max had no siblings. It was just him and his Mom, and then it was just him. For the longest time, he didn’t think he had any family. He fought for his life on the streets, learning too young how brutal the world can be. He learned how to handle himself in a fight, how to take a punch, and more importantly, how to give a good one.
When his Uncle finally found him, Max must have looked like some sort of wretched street urchin. His clothes and skin were dirtied beyond recognition. His hair was matted against his head and he stank of dirt, sweat, and blood. But beneath all the grime and the pain his Uncle saw Max. Saw the kind of man he could one day become. Max had been denied a proper education, but he’d learned all the life lessons he needed from living on the streets. But if his Uncle hadn’t found him when he had, Max doubted he could have lasted much longer. His lungs were weak, and he had a permanent chill in his bones which felt ready to escalate into something sinister.
Thankfully, fate intervened, and Max was saved. His Uncle and the Skeleton Kings became his family. For the first time in so long, Max felt like he belonged. He would do anything for the Kings, he would defend them with his dying breath. Is that how Brittany’s brother felt about her? Max reasoned it must be, and it helped him understand why their relationship was so intense. Without his mother, Max had nobody. But when Brittany lost her parents, she did have something; she had her brother. And the love they felt for one another got forged in the fire of that loss. If Brittany’s brother hadn’t taken care of her, would Brittany have ended up like Max, living hand to mouth out on the streets? He’d seen what happened to girls who ended up living rough, and it was a much crueler fate than what happened to boys. Max was grateful that Brittany’s brother had saved her like he did. And one day he’d tell him that to his face and shake his hand.
Gunning the engine of his bike Max grinned with satisfaction when she sputtered and then finally came to life. One of his misguided attempts to get the motorcycle running again must have worked. Standing up he wiped down his hands with an old rag and began gathering his tools back up. With the bike repaired it meant that he could go into the town and see Brittany. His day just kept getting better and better.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Brittany was drawing a fairy. But not the happy kind like you find in fairy tales. No, this fairy was very much broken because even in a world with magic everything isn’t perfect. Brittany used long, sweeping strokes of her pencil to create the wings which were wilted with sadness. The fairy herself sat with her head bent against her knees, which were drawn up tightly to her chest. Her pretty floral dress was tattered and soiled, as it spilled on the ground around her. The image was as beautiful as it was sad.
When Brittany was satisfied that she was finished, she took a deep breath and went to approach Nancy in the break room.
Nancy was laughing at something on the television, two hands cupped around a hot cup of black coffee. She looked up when Brittany walked in, the smile remaining on her lips.
“Nancy, hey,” Brittany nervously kept her sketch pad to her chest as she entered the small room, which smelt of stale coffee and pop tarts.
“Hey, sweetie,” Nancy grinned. Her smile widened as she spied the sketchbook Brittany was pressing against her chest like a shield. “You got something to show me there?”
Brittany dropped down on to the faded black couch in the break room beside Nancy. The couch had once
been as dark as a raven’s feather but over time it had dulled to a dirty gray, like overused dishwater.
“Okay, don’t judge me too harshly,” Brittany pleaded, tentatively peeling back the sketchpad so that Nancy could look at the image of the tarnished fairy.
“Oh, wow,” Nancy uttered as her mouth fell open.
“Do you like it?” Brittany fretted.
“Like it?” Nancy gasped. “I love it! It’s so beautiful, yet so badass! So full of sorrow and grace! We have to add this to our collection! The lines look clean, and you really got a good contrast going there.”
“Really?” Brittany beamed with delight.
“Really,” Nancy smiled, still unable to take her eyes off the amazingly intricate drawing. “And more than that, I want you to tattoo it onto me.”
“What?” Brittany froze, wondering if Nancy was being serious.
“I need that on me,” Nancy tapped the fairy approvingly. “It is beautiful, Brittany. A real piece of art. Besides, if you tattoo it onto me, it will be practice for when people come in requesting it. Which they will be, in droves as soon as that goes up in the window.”
“Really? You want me to do everyone who comes in for it?”
“Of course,” Nancy nodded. “After all, it’s your design, and no one would know it better than you.”
“And you’re sure you want me to tattoo it…on you?” Brittany felt nervous about tattooing anybody, let alone her boss.
“I’m sure,” Nancy insisted. “Brittany, you’re a natural, and you’ve taken to this place like a duck to water. I wouldn’t be surprised if one day you end up owning your own tattoo parlor. Just don’t open it up in Colridge or else you’ll put me out of business.”
Brittany was grinning literally from ear to ear, as full of nervous excitement as a kid on Christmas morning. She actually couldn’t have hoped for a better reaction from Nancy over her design. And she couldn’t wait to tell Max all about it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“She wants you to tattoo it on her?” Max almost choked on the burger he was eating.
“I know, right?” Brittany picked at her portion of fries, almost too excited to eat. “I couldn’t believe it.”
“Wow, Brittany, she must really believe in your work.”
They were sat in a corner booth in a McDonald’s a mile outside of Colridge. Max had insisted on taking her for a spin on his bike during her lunch break. As they sped off out of town, she felt like the heroine in some movie. It was hard to think that this was her life, when before she had to secretly cycle everywhere on her pedal bike. Now she had a handsome boyfriend to take her out for lunch. Because that’s what Max was, wasn’t it? Her boyfriend. Although they’d yet to place any formal labels on their relationship.
“I just hope I don’t mess it up,” Brittany fretted.
“Of course you won’t!” Max told her brightly. “You’ll do a great job, not just on Nancy but on all the other people who are going to come in wanting one of your designs.”
“Can I add you to that list?” Brittany cocked an eyebrow at him.
“For a fairy design?” Max laughed lightly. “No, count me out this time. I prefer to keep my ink a bit more masculine.”
He kept chewing on his burger, but Brittany had little appetite for her fries.
“I think she likes my brother.” Brittany stated after a slight pause.
“Who?”
“Nancy.”
“She’s met your brother?” Brittany might have imagined it, but she thought she heard a slightly hurt inflection enter Max’ voice.
“Uh huh, when he came over to Colridge a few weeks back.”
“Ah, I see.” No, the hurt in Max’s voice was definitely there.
“Would you…” Brittany trod carefully, not wanting to scare Max off from whatever was developing between them.
“Would you want to meet my brother?” she asked casually.
“Sure.”
“Really?”
“Well, he’s your family, isn’t he?”
“Yeah,” Brittany nodded. “Does that mean I get to meet your family too?”
Max thought of the sweaty bar where all the Skeleton Kings hung out. It was the closest thing he had to a family home, and it was certainly no place for a girl like Brittany.
“There’s no one to meet,” he told her gruffly.
“Oh,” Brittany’s shoulders sank. “But…” she chewed thoughtfully on her lip, eyeing Max nervously.
“But?”
“I’m your girlfriend, right? So, if there were some family to meet, I’d get to meet them?”
“Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?” Max asked teasingly. It was a conversation better suited to a school yard than a shabby McDonalds off the freeway.
“Don’t say it like that!” Brittany objected, playfully throwing a French fry at him. “I’m being serious,” she added, pouting. “I really like you, Max and I want us to be…exclusive.”
“So, you’ve not been seeing anyone else?” Max’ eyes widened with mock horror.
“Stop it!” Brittany threw another fry in his direction. He narrowly dodged, and it landed in the booth beside him.
“Are we exclusive or not?” she demanded, her confidence buoyed by her success with Nancy later. Her life was almost perfect, the only piece of the puzzle yet to slide into place was cementing where she stood with Max. She wanted to feel like he was her boyfriend, like they were starting to get serious about one another. But what if he didn’t feel that way? What if he wanted to keep things casual and see other people? The thought made Brittany’s stomach turn.
“Well?” she prompted angrily, “don’t leave a girl hanging.”
“Brittany, of course we are exclusive,” Max laughed, his shoulders shaking with it. “If you need to put a label on it then by all means, call me your boyfriend.”
“You’re mocking me.”
“I’m mocking the entire institution of relationships. But I’m happy to call us whatever you like, if it makes you happy.”
Brittany smiled contentedly and commenced eating her French fries, suddenly feeling hungrier.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Zack missed his sister. With her gone the house felt so bare and empty. Alone, it was easier to give into his darker thoughts about losing his parents. Even taking on extra jobs for the Red Riders wasn’t helping kill enough time or stem some of his loneliness. There was also talk of a member of the Skeleton Kings being in Colridge and stirring up trouble, which made Zack nervous.
“Couple of bar fights got out of hand,” his friend Jameson told him over a beer as they sat in the bar owned by the Red Riders.
“How out of hand?” Zack sought for clarity.
“Some stitches needed here and there, some bruised ribs.” Jameson shrugged casually and drank deeply from his bottle of beer. He was no stranger to injuries himself. The left side of his face was mottled with the aging scar of a severe burn wound from when a member of the Kings had thrown acid on his face. The skin still appeared melted and tender although all of the hair had managed to grow back on his scalp, which helped him resemble his former self.
“You think the Kings are looking to start a turf war?” that was the last thing Zack wanted. If a turf war broke out, he’d have to go and get Brittany out of there. And of course, she’d resist and want to know the truth. But she still thought he worked out in some factory, how would she feel if she knew what he really did?
“Maybe,” Jameson shrugged again. He always maintained a level of indifference when it came to club business. That was until someone either insulted him or one of his friends. Then he morphed into a ball of blind rage. He’d killed men in the past with nothing more than a tooth pick. Jameson was like a dangerous, exotic pet. Treat him nice, and he’d be loyal and protective, abuse him and he’d devour you in a second. Zack knew that Jameson was someone best kept on his side.
“My sister is over there,” Zack admitted sadly. “Working at some tattoo parlo
r in Colridge.”
“Oh?” Jameson’s eyebrows raised with interest. He’d only seen Brittany twice during the years he’d been friends with Zack, but both times his eyes had all but popped out of his head, and he’d asked after her for months afterwards.
“She’s strictly off limits,” Zack growled. It was a warning he’d given to all his Red Riders brethren, and they respected it. When it came to family members, dating was always off limits unless strictly allowed by the relative member of the club. And Zack wasn’t about to let a dangerous member of his motorcycle gang take his sister out. He’d endeavored for years to keep her pure of all the dark dealings that went on in town.
“Shame,” Jameson raised his good arm to order another beer.
