Hold (Gentry Boys #5)

by Cora Brent

  Scratch was located in a cozy, eclectic neighborhood a few blocks from campus, one of the older areas that still had some midcentury flavor from when Tempe was a sleepy college town. The shop was in a low-roofed block construction strip mall, flanked by a second hand clothing store and a hookah joint. It was only a few blocks away from The Hole.

  After I parallel parked my way into the only open street-side spot I scanned the area for Chase’s truck. I didn’t see it, but then I was ten minutes early and Chase was never on time for anything if he could get away with being late.

  The sign on the door to Scratch was already turned to ‘Closed’ but the door was unlocked so I walked right in. Stepping inside was like drifting into a hallucinogenic episode. Cord’s sketches – all tattoos he’d inked – covered the walls and more than a few were a little too weirdly abstract for my taste. There was one the size of a dinner plate that featured a hairy, horned beast chowing down on a screaming clock. It was probably supposed to communicate something deep and poetic but hell if I could unravel it.

  Cord was standing behind the long counter where the cute little blue-haired admin usually sat. He was on the phone and he snapped his fingers at me. I could read my brothers’ moods as well as they could read mine so I could tell at a glance that Cordero was getting some undesirable news.

  “Tell ‘em to sit tight,” he said. “I’ll head down there as soon as I can. Thanks for calling, Gaps. Yeah, I’ll tell Deck.”

  For a second I couldn’t place the vague alarm I felt over the name Gaps. Then I remembered. Gaps Driscoll was a goofy but well-meaning cop down there in Emblem. It was the Emblem connection that made me a little wary. Whatever news came out of there was bound to be unwelcome.

  “What’s up?” I asked Cord as he sighed and tossed the phone on the counter.

  My brother shrugged. “Nothing major. Apparently Deck’s been keeping an eye on Elijah’s boys and Gaps called to let him know they’d managed to find some trouble.”

  I remembered Elijah Gentry. A much softer version of his cousin Benton, who happened to be my asshole father, Elijah had the blonde, big-boned Gentry stamp on him. At least he did before he withered away from some disease I’ve forgotten the name of. His boys were young the last time I saw them. It would be just like my cousin Deck to take some rebellious Gentry teens under his wing.

  “Anyway,” Cord continued, “with Elijah dead and their head case of a mother being unhelpful the boys have been sitting down there in lockup all day.”

  “What’d they do?”

  Cord grinned. “They boosted the mayor’s car, a Cadillac by the way, and drag raced it down Main Street before sending it into the canal.”

  I snorted. “They sure sound like Gentrys all right.”

  “They’re both seventeen – born ten months apart – but it seems like they’ll be charged as adults. Their mother says she doesn’t have the cash for bail and she’s refusing to get creative about obtaining it. She thinks maybe if the boys sit inside a cage for a few weeks they’ll learn a thing or two. Gaps doesn’t want to see them go to the state facility though. Says they’re kind of wet behind the ears for that kind of treatment and he knows Deck would do what he could for them.”

  “And what might that be?”

  Cord shrugged. “Just posting bail I guess. Gaps says if I can get down there with eight grand he’ll make sure they get to go home tonight. Judge is his uncle or something and can take care of the paperwork after hours.”

  “You can get your hands on eight grand that quickly?”

  “I can.” Cord winked and held up a finger. He retreated to the office down the hall and emerged less than ninety seconds later holding a wad of cash, which he fanned like playing cards. “Deck believes in keeping some pocket change around for emergencies.”

  “All hail Deck Gentry.”

  “All should.”

  I checked my watch. It was a quarter after six. The drive to Emblem would take a solid hour and some change. “Let’s go then. We can sail through a greasy burger joint on the way.”

  Cord raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have to, you know. I can take care of this. I know how you feel about Emblem.”

  “Yeah. The same way you feel.” I shook my keys. “I’ll drive.”

  The door to Scratch blew open and hit me square on the ass. Chase poked his head inside with a mischievous grin. Fucker did it on purpose, smacking me with the door. That’s how it goes with the three of us though. We’ll probably be wrestling on the floor of the nursing home for the last goddamn pudding cup when we’re eighty.

  Chase’s grin faded as he looked from me to Cord. He stepped all the way inside and crossed his arms. “So what’d I miss?”

  “Nothing yet.” I jerked my head at the door. “Let’s move.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHASE

  Stephanie was a terrible morning person. I always have to tempt her out of bed with coffee and food and finally threats of ice water in her face if nothing else works. This morning she actually beat me out of the sheets for once. I found her sitting quietly at the kitchen table, wearing nothing but one of my old white t-shirts.

  “Hey, baby,” I greeted her, grabbing a coffee cup as she slowly raised her head and regarded me with eyes that looked too tired to remember who I was.

  “Hi,” she said softly.

  I filled the mug with coffee and handed it to her but she shook her head.

  “Too tired to drink coffee,” she yawned, then folded her arms on the table and rested her head on them.

  “That’s why one absorbs coffee, Steph. All the malicious caffeine soaks into your bloodstream and forces you to greet the day.”

  “Hmph,” she grunted.

  I poured a bowl of cereal and tried to interest her in it but she just shook her head. I set the coffee mug down and stood behind her, rubbing her shoulders.

  “You sick?” I asked.

  “No,” she sighed, relaxing into my massage. “God, Chase, you’re so good at that.”

  She didn’t mean it to sound sexy but one of the age-old struggles of the morning was between man and dick. Mine chose that moment to offer a hearty salute.

  I was weighing the pros and cons of pulling her shirt up and letting my boner press against her skin when she suddenly exhaled noisily and rose from the table.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked her.

  She pushed ribbons of uncooperative hair out of her face and glanced at the clock above the stove. “I’ve got to get ready for work.”

  “No, Stephanie. What’s wrong?”

  She stood there in our kitchen apartment, barefooted, arms crossed, staring at me. It was just one of the many moments in our life together when I had no fucking clue what was going on inside her head. Mostly that excited me. Sometimes it made me uneasy.

  This was one of those times.

  “I hate my job,” she finally said.

  I stirred my own cup of coffee. “Since when?”

  She shrugged. “Since every day. It’s one absurd meeting after another with everyone trying to outdo each other on the corporate cleverness scale and avoid anything resembling real work.”

  I wondered if now was a good time to ask her about the law school brochures I’d found in the trash last week. For a long time that had been Stephanie’s objective; law school at ASU and then a job with the public defender’s office. Her father was still in prison in upstate New York for whatever his part was in spearheading a huge illegal sports gambling ring and fixing the outcomes. When I’d met Stephanie she was just emerging from some trouble she’d gotten into as a local bookie. Her brother Michael was still in the business. He didn’t come around often and that was fine with me. From the beginning he’d struck me as a hard character whose shadows were destined to swallow him whole.

  “You could always quit,” I said carefully. “Look for another job.”

  It wasn’t the right time to bring up touchy subjects. If Stephanie wanted to talk about law school then she probably wouldn�
��t have tossed all her paperwork in the trash.

  “Yeah,” she nodded, somewhat absently. “Jobs are hard to come by though. Never mind.”

  She started shuffling tiredly away. Then she stopped when she was halfway down the hallway, turned and looked at me through a curtain of hair. “I’m sorry.”

  I was perplexed. “For what, honey?”

  But she just shook her head and retreated to the bathroom. I stayed in the kitchen, just listening to the water run and feeling like a horny dick for picturing Stephanie naked and glistening as she stepped out of the shower. It was a nice picture but there was something I wanted even more than I wanted to make her gasp with ecstasy and give me the same. I wanted to make her happy.

  Stephanie seemed like she was in a better mood when she emerged, fully dressed and gorgeous. She grabbed a power bar from the kitchen cabinet and tossed it in her purse while she pulled her heels on.

  “You’re at the camp today?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  School didn’t start until August so for the summer I’d gotten a job helping to coordinate a teen summer program at the big library downtown.

  “And tonight you’ll be out with Cord and Creed?”

  She seemed almost melancholy over the idea. It wasn’t too often that we spent our evenings apart.

  “Yup,” I said. “But the offer still stands if you want to come along. The boys wouldn’t mind.”

  She approached me and bestowed a dry kiss on my cheek. “I told you it’s fine. I’ll eat my leftover pepper steak and binge on the MLB network. Have you seen my phone?”

  “Living room end table.”

  I stayed in the kitchen while Stephanie bustled around, gathering keys and phone and purse. I’d have to hustle to get ready as soon as she stepped out the door but for the moment I watched her while she didn’t realize she was being watched. She was distracted, preoccupied. She’d been that way often lately and it wasn’t like her. Steph was sharp and intense, not dreamy and vague.

  “Bye. Love you.” She blew a kiss my way and opened the door.

  “Hey Steph!”

  The girl I loved turned around and cocked her head as she waited for me to say something.

  Marry me.

  “Have a good day.”

  She gave me a half smile. “You too.”

  Why the hell couldn’t I just say it? Whenever I got the idea into my head the mood always seemed to be off or the timing wasn’t ideal or the planets weren’t aligned in the proper astronomical sequence. There wasn’t another girl anywhere I would ever want to spend my life with. I’d known that early on with Stephanie. I was never unsure about her. And I knew she loved me to the fucking moon and back or else she wouldn’t still be here. So why couldn’t either of us seem to take the leap over the hill? Cord had hooked up with Saylor and gone right to work with rings and babies. Creed put a diamond claim on Truly within a year and just a few months ago I stood on a hill in Sedona, watching my brooding, inscrutable brother shine with happiness as he vowed to forever keep the woman of his dreams.

  The clock reminded me there really wasn’t time for angst-filled contemplation. I wasn’t going anywhere. Stephanie wasn’t going anywhere. Well, actually we were both going somewhere because we’d be moving into our new place in a few weeks. But we were solid. We loved each other, we liked each other and we still fucked with fanatical fervor.

  Yet somehow I wanted more. I want it all with her.

  After downing my coffee and shoving a handful of over-sugared cereal in my face I hosed off in the shower and threw on some clothes. Rush hour was still in full swing so it took a lot of stop and go traffic before I reached downtown. Just before I ducked into the library I glanced over at the cluster of high rises on Central Avenue and thought about Stephanie in there, enduring one miserable, pointless meeting after another. Maybe she was sitting at some conference table and slipping her heels off while some dickhead droned on about spreadsheets and profit margins. Maybe her mind was wandering back to our little role playing exercise last night and she was pressing her knees together to squash the sudden ache at her core while she licked her lips and recalled the taste of my cock…

  Hooray! Just in case there was any doubt that I was still ruled by my dick he made it clear that dissent was intolerable. One quick flashback to Stephanie’s sexy body and he was ready to roll.

  I lingered outside for a few minutes and focused on unsexy things like the mound of bird shit by the door and the homeless fellow cheerfully eating an entire red velvet cake on a nearby bench. Once I was the master of my own domain again I pulled a ten dollar bill out of my wallet and handed it to the guy before heading inside.

  The camp was just a daytime program designed for local kids who were looking for something to do this summer besides hang out in the industrial hellholes of Phoenix and melt in the heat. These were my kind of kids; a little rough around the edges but eager to learn. Being among them made me excited for the chance to stand in front of my own classroom and tell them what I knew. They were the kind of kids I couldn’t wait to get invested in.

  “Hey, Chase.” Bastian Bordeaux, the program’s chief coordinator, greeted me on my way in. He never tried to hide the gang tattoos that decorated his neck or the needle scars on his arms. Once a teenage runaway, drug addict and hell raiser, he was now a middle-aged father of three and was responsible for a number of community youth outreach programs. He told me once there was nothing to be gained by smothering the echoes of the past. They’ll just choke you. I’ve come by a few scars myself, both inside and out, so I know what he means.

  “Hey,” I said, shaking his hand smoothly.

  Bastian motioned down the hall. “Get your group assignment. We’ll head down to the light rail in about fifteen minutes.”

  There were six of them in my charge for the trip we were taking up the road to the art museum. They were all around thirteen to fifteen years old, a rowdy bunch who took up space and made a lot of noise because they were trying to figure out where they stood in the world.

  “Mr. Gentry,” sang out one of the girls as the light rail lurched slowly through downtown Phoenix, “where’s the bathroom?”

  “You’ll have to wait until we reach the museum, Inez.”

  “Hey, Mr. Gentry,” called out another voice. “I need a drink of water.”

  “Arun, they’ll have water at the museum.”

  “I’m thirsty now.”

  “You can wait ten minutes.”

  “Naw, I can’t. It’s dangerous to get dehydrated in the desert. You told us that.”

  “We’re not in the desert. We’re in an air conditioned train on Central Avenue.”

  The kid hammed it up, sprawling across the seats right into the lap of Inez, who squealed and shoved him away. He closed his eyes. “I might get heat stroke.”

  My mouth tipped into a smile. “You’ll be fine. I promise. Hey kids, listen up. Remember the rules in there. No cell phones, stay with me and keep the noise to a minimum.”

  They laughed and jostled each other as we reached our stop and headed to the art museum. They quieted down when we got inside the building though, listening respectfully as the docent took us through the temporary exhibit on twentieth century photography. We spent three hours walking through the bright galleries, running into Bastian’s group and some of the others a few times. We ate a brief lunch at the café before returning to the library. The kids chattered brightly on the ride back and compared notes about what they’d seen. Then they spent the afternoon at the library composing a ten-minute skit about contemporary art, which they performed in one of the large meeting rooms in front of all forty members of the camp.

  The day went fast and didn’t even seem like work. At five o’clock we bid farewell to all the kids and cleaned up everything from the afternoon’s activities. Bastian was talking to one of the other counselors but he stopped and headed my way when he saw me.

  “You know,” he said with smiling warmth, “you’re
a natural teacher, Chase. The kids love you. That’s a gift.”

  The compliment was one of the best ones anyone had ever thrown my way. I didn’t really know how to say what teaching meant to me so I just flashed a grin and said “Thanks,” before carrying a bag of trash out to the dumpster.

  A short time later as I idled in traffic with the air conditioner working hard to overcome the hellacious heat, Bastian’s words came back to me. My brothers and I were once a set of hard-luck kids that no one had much hope for. Back in our hometown, the Gentry name was infamous for violence, abuse and the kind of poverty that had nothing to do with money and everything to do with bad character. Our father was nothing but evil atop a pair of brutally strong legs and it was widely assumed that the apples don’t fall far from the tree. Even once we were out of Emblem, we floundered for a while, trying to scrape together a living with odd jobs and with our fists in the underground fighting rings that are so common to university towns. I hoped Bastian was right, that I have what it takes to stand in front of a room full of kids who might not see much point to showing up and convince them otherwise, to persuade them that there are beautiful things in the world and that their minds are precious.

  Maybe it was the height of arrogance to believe I could change anything for anyone. But I was damn well going to try.

  I had daydreamed my way through the worst of the traffic headed eastbound out of Phoenix. As I steered toward the ramp that bent in the direction of Tempe I noted the gleaming ASU football stadium. Now that I was back among the familiar landmarks of the university I started to get a little jazzed about an evening with my boys. The only thing I missed about the old days was being with my brothers every day. But it always gave me comfort to know that we would fall back into our same patterns as soon as we were together. We joked, sometimes roughly, and laughed and were generally obnoxious but the three of us loved each other to fucking pieces. Always had. Always would.