Brawler (22 page)

She held my eye for only a second before shrugging lightly. “Well, good luck to you. Girl’s a brawler.”

“So am I.” I closed my eyes, remembering the voice in my dream that I now knew was hers. “I’m a fuckin’ fighter, right?”

She didn’t respond and soon her phone was beeping frantically in her hand.

“Called it,” I mumbled, throwing my hand triumphantly in the air.

“Yeah, you’re a genius,” she joked absently.

“Probably not anymore.”

“What?”

“Me no think good anymore,” I stuttered.

“What are you talking about?”

“Didn’t you hear? I probably lost some brain cells. I can’t even do Sudoku anymore. It hurts my thinker.”

“You’re having trouble solving puzzles?”

“And thinking about tough stuff in general. Remember that whole lawyering thing I was planning on doing? The thing I worked my ass off for years to achieve? Probably not gonna be able to do that anymore.”

“Well, shit,” she said sadly. “That… that sucks.”

“Yep.”

“Are you sure?”

I opened one eye to look at her. “Am I sure I’m stupid now?”

“No, ass,” she replied impatiently. “I mean are you sure it’s not temporary? Are you sure it’s the end of your career?”

I closed my eye and shrugged. “I wouldn’t really cry if it was.”

“If it was temporary or the end of your career as a lawyer?”

“Guess.”

Correct answer was no, I didn’t care if I wasn’t able to be a lawyer anymore.

There’s a certain amount of clarity that comes with knowing you died. Twice. And I may not have been able to remember the last hour or so before the accident, but I remembered how I felt that afternoon with Jenna in the park
.
I remembered how I’d felt about Laney that morning at the hotel. And the night before. And the day before that, and three weeks before that, and a month, a year before that. I’d felt sick. Sick with my life. With where it was going. With what I was doing.

With what I was missing.

Jenna left me. She went straight from the airport to the shop to check in at work while Karen, Dan, and Laney took me home. To their home, not mine. I wasn’t trusted on my own.

“You could get hurt,” Karen told me again and again. “What if you fall?”

“And I can’t get up?” I asked dryly.

“Exactly!” she cried, missing my sarcasm. “Who would be there to help you? No, you’ll stay with us for a while, just until you get back to your old self. It won’t be long. A few weeks at the most.”

That was an overstatement. The doctors had told me that since I was an athlete and my body was accustomed to exercise and rebounding, I could be feeling stronger in a matter of days if I did it right.

“Where is Kellen sleeping?” Dan asked, standing at the bottom of the stairs with all the luggage.

Karen pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I don’t know. One of the guest bedrooms, don’t you think?”

“They don’t have their own bathroom. He might want that privacy.”

“You’re right.”

“Put him in my room,” Laney said, flopping down on the couch next me. “It shares the bathroom with Jenna’s room and she’s not going to be staying here while he’s here. He’ll have it all to himself.”

“What about you?” Dan asked.

“I have to get back to school,” Laney replied, as though it were obvious. “And I need to get back to my apartment. I’ve been wearing the same clothes for weeks. It’s gross.”

Laney was going to school part time at the Art Institute of California in Orange County, working on becoming an Interior Designer. She lived in her own apartment near the school about an hour away. It was a different campus, but the same college that Jenna was going to up in Los Angeles. The two biggest differences were Karen’s approval on Laney’s major and the fact that Jenna, even though she had started two years later than Laney had, was almost graduated.

Dan frowned at Laney. “What about Kellen?”

“He’s going to be here with you guys. He’s fine.”

“You don’t want to stay and help out?”

“He’s fine,” she repeated irritably. “You guys don’t need me here all the time. I’ll check in, I promise.”

“Laney,” Karen began to protest, “he just came out of a massive coma. Maybe don’t abandon him?”

“I was actually only in a coma for a few days,” I corrected, laying my head on the back of the couch.

“You were in a coma for a month!” Laney snapped at me.

“Days,” I repeated. “I was in a minimally conscious state for most of the month. That’s not a coma.”

“Whatever, Dr. Who.”

“I’m a Time Lord now?”

“What.
Ever
. Do you need me to stay here with you?” Laney asked me pointedly.

I shook my head decisively. “Nope.”

“See? He doesn’t care.”

“Not even a little.”

She shoved me playfully in the shoulder. “Alright, don’t get too upset I’m going.”

“I’ll try to keep it together.”

Karen shook her head, frowning at Laney. “Help me make everyone some lunch at least. That is, if you have time before running off to rejoin your life.”

Laney groaned as she stood up. “Don’t be so dramatic, mom.”

“Well, you’re being a little obnoxious.”

“We’ve all been cooped up together for weeks. Don’t you want some space? Jenna did. She left as soon as she could.”

“I guess so.”

Laney hugged her mom briefly. “I’m not leaving right away. I’ll help you make lunch.”

“Thank you.”

“So what are my orders here?” Dan called after them as they disappeared down the hall.

“Laney’s room!” Karen shouted back.

Dan looked at me questioningly. “That okay with you?”

I shrugged, standing slowly to follow him up the stairs. “I’ll sleep anywhere.”

“You want some help getting up these stairs?”

“No, thanks. Consider it physical therapy.”

I held on tight to the railing as I followed Dan slowly up the stairs. He obviously made it there ahead of me, even carrying my suitcase, and when I hit the landing I was exhausted. I walked down the hall slowly, dragging my hand along the wall for balance. When I passed Jenna’s room the door was wide open and I paused to look inside. It seemed so empty. All of the drawings she’d done and plastered her walls with were gone. The bookshelf was bare. The comforter was the same one I remembered – a swirling pattern in a rich, royal purple color – but most of everything else had changed or disappeared. I knew Laney’s room looked like she still lived here every day, a sure sign that her apartment was a temporary situation and that this house was her home, but Jenna was straight up gone. Moved on to the next chapter of her life, leaving only a ghost of herself behind.

“You okay?” Dan asked quietly.

I jerked my head toward him. “Yeah, sorry. Spaced out. I needed a breather.”

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” he asked, nodding toward Jenna’s room. “Her being gone.”

“Yeah.”

“The house isn’t the same without them. Karen goes a little crazy without Laney and I—well, I miss both my girls.”

“Jenna especially?”

He grinned faintly. “Jenna in a different way,” he conceded. “I got you all set up in here. Your suitcase is open on the bench at the foot of the bed. Bathroom has toilet paper. That’s crucial.”

“Thanks.”

His phone beeped, making him scowl slightly as he fished it out of his pocket. “Uh oh.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s from Karen. They’re making soup. Chicken noodle. Vegetarian.” His scowl deepened. “How the hell?” he muttered.

“How is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” he grumbled, stowing his phone, “but I guarantee it involves soy of some kind. Sit tight. I’ll make a run out for some real food and smuggle it in.”

I literally sagged with relief. “Thank you. I’ve been eating nothing but bland hospital food for a week.”

“That’s no way for a man to live. You go lay down, get some rest. I’ll fix this.”

Once inside Laney’s room, I shut the door, killed the light, and stretched out on the bed. The room was dark. It was cool. Most importantly, though – it was
silent
. No beeping of machinery. No feet moving outside in the hall. No one in the room coughing, snoring, or eating. No eyes on me. No monitors. Just me and the beautiful, perfect sweetness of silence.

I pulled out my phone, a new one Jenna had gotten for me the day before we left the hospital since mine was destroyed in the accident, and I pulled up her contact info. I hadn’t seen it until now, but she’d entered her information herself and her avatar was a picture of her flipping off the camera, just like the one she’d sent me on her first day of high school. I chuckled quietly to myself as I typed out a message to her.

How could you leave me like that? They’re making me soup, Jen. Chicken noodle! Like I’m a kid with a cold.

It only took a minute for her to respond and when she did, I nearly burst out laughing.

Beware the thermometer. It’s not going where you think it is.

You’re heartless. Come back and save me.

Can’t. I’m at work.

You’re doing a tat? Send me a pic.

Not doing a job right now.

Draw me a tat then.

What do you want?

I thought about it long and hard. If I did finally get a tattoo, what would it look like? I didn’t know. I couldn’t think of anything that didn’t feel cliché or pointless. I would want something that was meaningful to me. Something like Jenna’s compass.

Something for my mom,
I told her finally.

It took her about five minutes to do a quick sketch. I was disappointed to see that it was something she’d done on her phone, because her digital drawings were never the same. They were a little cold, the lines a little too perfect, but when the image sunk in, it didn’t matter. What technology had robbed from her skill, she had replaced with meaning. And it didn’t mean anything to her – it was one hundred percent about my mom. About me.

I stared at the Celtic cross she’d drawn with the intricate French scrollwork that reminded me of the doodles on a love letter I’d helped her write so long ago. It
felt
like my mom, an incredible feat considering Jenna had never met her. She’d only heard me talk about her a handful of times, but still she managed this. It was perfect. Like finding a memento I’d thought I’d lost forever but now there it was, more incredible than I remembered and I never wanted to lose it again.

Tomorrow,
I immediately told her.

Tomorrow what?

Tomorrow I’m coming to your shop and you’re doing that tattoo.

Are you sure? You’ve never gotten a tat before.

I think it’s about time I did.

I laid there in the dark room, the glow of my cell phone the only light, and I stared at the image. Not of the tattoo, but of Jenna. I refreshed it over and over, tapping my phone to keep it from going dark, until finally my eyes were drooping, her face going blurry, and I let it fall asleep.

I followed immediately after.

According to my GPS, Jenna’s shop in Bakersfield was just over two hours from Ranchos Palos Verdes. Too damn far. I barely made it through breakfast with Dan and Karen this morning without falling asleep. No way would I be able to drive that far.

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?”