The silence swooped back into the room, mixing with the smell of turkey and cat litter melding in the air.
Much to Brooke’s horror, Ben got up and went into the bathroom down the hall, leaving her alone with Irene. Brooke turned back to Ben’s mom with an uneasy smile. Irene took another sip, staring at Brooke over the rim of her cup. Brooke looked away and let her gaze sweep the living room where Precious Moments figurines threatened her every move. She kept her elbows close to her body, terrified of accidentally knocking one over.
Her eyes returned to Irene’s yellow sweatshirt. A humming bird collected nectar from a red flower on its front – a red flower that looked a hell of a lot like a vagina.
Irene scooted closer to Brooke on the green couch that, despite its age, was still in great shape. She locked eyes with Brooke and spoke in a whisper. “Do you love him?”
Brooke’s heart dropped like an elevator with a splintered cable, driving the air from her lungs. “Ben is amazing.”
“But you didn’t answer my question.”
“Didn’t I?”
Irene pinched her gaze, sending crow’s feet jetting from the corners of her eyes. “What are your plans anyway?”
Brooke’s eyebrows dipped. “Plans?”
“Do you plan on marrying my son?”
“I-We haven’t gotten that far yet, Irene.”
Irene looked taken aback. “Yet, you managed to get far enough into his apartment.”
“It’s just temporary,” she said, gravity pulling on her features.
A knowing smile crossed Irene’s lips. “I thought reality television was temporary at one time as well.”
Brooke took a drink of the tea she couldn’t stand and swallowed with a fulfilled sigh. “This tea is so good. Where did you get it?”
Irene’s voice turned so grave it gave Brooke goose bumps. “Marriage should be honored by all, and the marriage bed kept pure, for God will judge the adulterer and all the sexually immoral.” She leaned back, her glare as icy as her tone. “Hebrews thirteen-four.”
“Oh my,” Brooke said faintly, taking another sip of tea and wishing it was spiked with whiskey.
The toilet flushed and the sink turned on in the bathroom.
Irene leaned in again, this time closer. “I will not stand by and watch my son lured into false hope by some wicked-tempered whore.”
Brooke inhaled sharply and clapped her hand over her chest. “I am not wicked-tempered!”
“You are living in sin, dear. Do not drag him down this path of darkness; it will only end in doom.”
“Path of darkness?”
Irene tightened her pointed glare. “Have you been drinking?”
“What?”
“I smell alcohol on your breath.”
“Oh, well, I had a glass of wine at my family’s Thanksgiving.”
Irene leaned back, a certain sense of satisfaction blooming in her eyes, and slowly sipped her tea.
Ben emerged from the restroom.
“You fall in?” Brooke asked.
He stopped in the middle of the room and put his hands on his hips. His red v-neck he had traded out at his place on the way over strangled his biceps and nearly made Brooke forget all about Irene’s divisive words. Nearly.
“No, I got a text from Hicks. He wants us to meet him out later tonight.”
“Let’s eat then, shall we?” Irene said, patting Brooke’s hand. “You can say grace, dear.”
“Oh goodie,” Brooke muttered bleakly.
Chapter Twenty-Four
By Monday morning, Ben’s turkey hangover was nothing more than a distant memory. Despite his mother’s unsettling words to Brooke (which she had finally told him about), he was in a great mood. Probably the best mood he had been in since dropping some serious dough on his vintage Triumph last year. He had successfully buried the hatchet with Will and gotten the green light – more or less – to date his daughter. And even though she would never admit it, he was nearly certain Brooke felt the same way about him as he did for her. Nothing could throw his game off today.
Not even Doug, who was in an extra cranky frame of mind after eating too much pumpkin pie over the holiday weekend. Ben hoped that would result in his spending more time at the gym this week and less at the shop.
Ben spaced off out the window, the ground completely covered in a blinding coat of fresh powder beneath the sunny skies. He imagined them doing the greatest of things together – exploring the Badlands on his bike one minute, parasailing in Key West the next – to the simplest of things like going to the movies and then buying q-tips and paper towels at Target. The prospect of it all was as endless as it was thrilling. With her by his side, everything took on a new meaning.
The bell rang, simultaneously jerking him from his daydream and bringing Doug out from the back.
Ben forced a smile at the fair skinned girl reluctantly strolling closer. Her uncertain eyes scanned the entire place as she repeatedly finger-combed her short dark hair. Ben had seen those symptoms a thousand times over. Another tattoo virgin.
He nonchalantly nudged Doug out of the way. “How’s it going?”
“Hey,” she replied in a timid voice.
“Thinking about getting some art work today?”
Doug leaned on a glass case, nodding his approval of Ben’s lead question.
“I am,” she said, approaching a glass case and examining the portfolios inside.
“Did you have something in mind?”
“I want to get my boyfriend’s name on my shoulder.” She rubbed her arm. “It’s his birthday tomorrow and I want to surprise him.”
Ben hid the grimace rolling through him in a big curling wave. Names were his arch nemesis, especially boyfriend names. He had camouflaged countless significant other names over the years, usually with colorful flowers or butterflies, and the pain and money wasn’t worth it. Eight out of ten times, people started with someone’s name and ended up with a giant bird or angel with zero significant value.
“Have you considered an iPod and a card?”
Doug cleared his throat, pretending to thumb through the latest copy of Tattoo Life but flipping pages much too fast to make it believable.
She chuckled nervously. “He already has an iPod.”
“What’s his name?”
A wide smile pulled into her cheeks. “Zachariah.”
“Zachariah?”
She nodded, the word alone bringing sheer pleasure to her face.
“That is a mouth full.”
“Yeah,” she said with a short laugh. “It was his father’s name, too.”
Ben exchanged a quick glance with Doug he wished he hadn’t.
“On your shoulder?”
She shed her winter coat and rolled up the shirt sleeve on her left arm. “Right here.”
Ben cringed. A t-shirt would hide the tattoo but a tank-top or summer dress would not. He bit his tongue, Doug’s words about upselling surfacing in his mind. “How long have you and Zachariah been dating?”
“Almost three weeks.”
He arched an eyebrow that Doug couldn’t see. “That long, huh?”
Doug coughed into his fist.
“I know it doesn’t seem like a long time, but I’ve never felt a connection with anyone like this before and I want the whole world to know about it.”
“Maybe you should start with Facebook. Ya know, change your status or your profile picture.”
“I think I’m set on the tat.” She pinched her brow for a moment. “No, I know I am.”
Ben carefully chose his next words. “Well, it’s a very life affirming decision... What’s your name?”
“Kendra.”
He offered his hand. “Hi Kendra, I’m Ben.”
She shook it enthusiastically. “I know who you are. You’re like a legend around here.”
A sheepish smile broke across his face. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said, looking over at Doug.
“You did some angel wings on my friend�
��s back that are so beautiful. Her name is Gretchen.”
“Oh yeah, I remember, Gretchen. Said she wanted to fly and I asked if she had ever tried United.”
Kendra laughed, studying the tattoos on his arms. “That is some sick work.”
“Thank you. How old are you again?”
Doug coughed loudly into his fist like he was choking on a hotdog.
“I just turned eighteen.” Kendra dug around in her purse for a moment and then slapped her license on the counter.
Ben examined it and handed it back, exhaling a long breath. “I gotta be honest with you, Kendra, I’m not big on tattooing boyfriend’s names because when you’re young, boyfriends tend to become ex-boyfriends in no time flat.”
Doug slapped the magazine shut and Ben could feel the heat of his gaze on the back of his neck.
Kendra took her ID back, her face sobering. “That would never happen with us.”
“I hope it doesn’t, but just to be safe you might want to hold out for a couple more months until you’re sure.”
Doug slapped a meaty hand on Ben’s shoulder and squeezed. “Ben, haven’t you ever heard of women’s intuition?” A slimy smile traveled across his fake-baked cheeks as he shot Kendra a wink. “A woman knows what she wants.”
Kendra nodded rapidly. “I really do. Zachariah is my everything.” Her eyes dialed in on Ben. “Haven’t you ever been in love?”
Doug’s smile widened. “Yeah, Ben, haven’t you ever been in love?”
Ben shifted in his black Pumas. “I have, but here’s the thing: if he’s not meant for you, I’m going to have to cover his humongous name with a unicorn. Do you want a unicorn on your arm?”
She thought it over. “Not so much.”
Doug hip-checked Ben out of the way. “What he’s trying to say, Kendra, is that you want to symbolize your commitment to Zachariah with some very special ink that can only be found here at Iron Horse. Am I right?”
She nodded in full agreement. “We plan on spending the rest of our lives together.”
Ben considered her, his lips bending down, a smile in reverse. “Yeah well, I planned on being a tight end for the Dallas Cowboys but guess what? Sometimes shit doesn’t work out.”
Kendra’s smile sputtered.
Doug pointed to station number three and spoke in a pleasant tone. “Why don’t you have a seat in that chair over there and we’ll be right with you, Kendra.”
“Okay,” she said, eagerly going over before anyone could change their mind.
Ben watched her pull her sit down and spoke out the corner of his mouth. “I am not doing this.”
“Fuck you aren’t,” Doug spit back, literally spraying Ben’s face with spittle.
Ben’s face soured. He wiped his cheek with his shoulder. “Jesus Christ, Doug.”
Doug planted an index finger in his chest. “Get over there and do – your – job.”
Ben stared at Kendra, who was buried in her cell phone. “Come on, man, she just turned eighteen. She doesn’t know what she’s doing.”
“And neither do you.”
Ben crossed his arms. “I’m not doing it.”
“Then you’re fired.”
“You don’t have the authority to fire me, Doug. You’re just the guy who orders boxes of gloves and needles before taking a three hour nap. Remember?”
Veins bulged in Doug’s thick neck. “Get out.”
“No.”
Doug caught Ben’s left eye with a quick right that sent Ben backpedalling into a black wall with Iron Horse Ink painted across it in large purple letters. White spots exploded when his skull made contact with the shiny cinderblock.
He shook his head until the spots cleared. “You dick!”
Doug wiggled his fingers and widened his stance. “Come at me, bro.”
Ben gritted his teeth and charged. With a loud grunt, he shoved Doug so hard in the chest that Doug stumbled backwards into the earring case. Glass shattered around him like he had fallen through thin ice on a late March country pond.
Kendra screamed.
Blood was quick to follow.
***
Ben knocked on the arched door and within seconds Hicks tall frame filled the doorway.
His brow crumpled. “Dragon! What happened to your face, dude?”
Ben stepped inside, lightly rubbing his swollen eye. “Doug punched me in the face and then Janna fired me.”
“What?” Hicks shut the door while studying Ben with his mouth agape. “Are you serious?”
“Yep,” Ben said, dropping heavily onto the couch, air bursting from his lips. He pulled a balled up sock from beneath him and held it up, his face recoiling. “Is this what I think it is?”
“Probably,” Hicks replied, snatching the sock and tossing it into his bedroom.
“That thing is harder than three week old bread!”
Hicks sat down in a massive recliner he dwarfed with his size. “Tell me what happened.”
Ben inhaled a deep breath and spilled his twisted guts, leaving no stone unturned.
Hicks nodded in the appropriate spots and sparked up a joint, shaking his head in disbelief as the story unfolded. He passed the joint to Ben, who waved him off.
“Damn, this must be serious if you’re passing on the kill bud, bro,” Hicks said, reeling the joint back in.
“I just can’t believe Janna fired me. He hit me first!”
“I know, man, but Janna has to live with the guy so of course she’s going to fire you. She can’t have that kind of bad joojoo in her shop.”
Ben rubbed his drawn face with both hands, wincing when his hand found his eye. “I was just kind of hoping she’d get rid of him instead of me.”
Hicks hit the joint again and held his breath. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy, man. I know how much she thought you walked on water.” He exhaled a tumbling cloud that smelled like a dead skunk. “I know Jimmy would love to have you back, man, but he’s got a full staff.”
“It’s all good,” Ben said dully, knowing Jimmy would laugh his ass off when he found out Ben had lost his job. Ben had worked with Hicks at Jimmy’s studio – Sacred Impressions – for nearly five years before Janna had lured him away. He and Jimmy had remained on good terms but Jimmy was definitely the kind of guy who, behind closed doors, would take pleasure in Ben’s fall from grace. Crawling back to that guy was last on Ben’s list.
“I’ll ask him for you tomorrow though.”
Ben slapped his knee. “And right when I get the girl, too! Fuck me.”
Hicks shook his head, feeling Ben’s pain. “That’s how shit always goes down, man.” He reclined the chair and kicked his size sixteen boots up. “Only time I ever bought a brand new car, I got fired two weeks later and had to sell it soon after.”
A short laugh burst from Ben. He remembered it well because as soon as Hicks was no longer the manager of Ben’s favorite bar on Ingersol, the free drinks had dried up quicker than shovels during a snowstorm. His smile faltered as a cold realization set in. He had a truck payment and rent to pay each month, not to mention cable, cell and electricity.
“So what’re you going to do?”
Ben’s eyes snapped back to Hicks.
“About Brooke I mean.”
“I don’t know,” he said tiredly. “I just promised her dad I’d take care of her after he finally gave me his blessing to date her.” He hammered his fist into the couch’s arm, rattling the halogen lamp next to him. “This couldn’t be worse timing.”
“Hey, at least you still have all that money saved up.”
This statement caused Ben almost as much pain as thinking about losing Brooke. After purchasing his bike last summer, he refused to touch his nest egg and had been successful in not only doing that, but adding to it as well. He pictured himself a year down the road, the nest egg nothing more than broken shells, an aging flat screen and PlayStation to show for it.
He shuddered with the thought and leaned forward on the couch. “We should open our own sh
op, man. Now is the time.”
Hicks smiled that familiar smile which let you know he was about to let you down easy. “I wish I had the money, Kemosabe. We’d need at least a hundred large to get anything started.” He shrugged his broad shoulders, his Johnny Cash t-shirt pulling against his beer belly. “I would love to, man, I really would, but unless one of us wins the lottery that’s probably not going to happen anytime soon.”
Ben exhaled a melancholy breath and leaned back. “Well…you wanna go grab a beer somewhere instead then?”
He laughed. “I would love to do that, too, but I’m heading back to Milwaukee for my parents’ fortieth anniversary party as soon as the dryer’s done.”
“In this weather?”
Hicks nodded and sucked on the joint, enflaming its burning end. “Roads are clear by now.”
“Fortieth anniversary, huh?” Ben muttered blankly, wondering if he would ever hold onto someone for that long. “Damn, your parents are old.”
“Have been since I was born.” He grinned at Ben, smoke oozing between his teeth. “I’ll talk to Jimmy when I get back. I know he’d love to have you if he can afford it. You were the best he ever had, although he may still be a little pissed about you going to Iron Horse.”
“Appreciate it.” Ben got up and wished him a safe trip before stepping back out into the cold, where everything looked much darker than it had just a few hours before.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ben was surprised to find Brooke already at his place when he arrived back home. It was the first time since they had met he wasn’t happy to see her and hiding it was a struggle. He just needed some alone time to figure out his next move, which he knew could take days or even weeks. This would be no easy fix; not for a guy with a skill set consisting of tattoo needles and cool drawings. His options probably fell somewhere between eight and nine bucks an hour.
“You’re home early,” Brooke said. She smiled at him from the open kitchen, a hot pink apron tied around her waist. “I was going to surprise you with dinner.”
He dropped into an armchair with gray and blue stripes, barely able to look her in the eye. “Thought you had to work until eight.”
Brooke & Ben: Before Fate Interrupted Page 21
