Brooke & Ben: Before Fate Interrupted (24 page)

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.”

“Finished
early,” she replied. “I’m making smoked chicken cannelloni for dinner and you
are going to love it.” She wiped her hands on a dishtowel and grew quiet.
“What’s wrong?”

“Just tired.”

Brooke’s high
heels clicked into the living room. He winced when he saw her outfit. She was
dressed to kill in tight fitting jeans and a red top that showed off her rack
and made his heart beat faster at the same time.

“You look good.”

“Thank you,” she
said, her face pinched with worry. “I thought we could go to a movie or
something after dinner. I’m getting cabin fever already and it’s not even
Christmas yet.”

He snorted,
staring at the darkened TV through glassy eyes.

She sat down on
the edge of the couch. “What’s going on?”

Options tumbled
through his mind like socks in a dryer: feeling sick, aunt just died, super
long day. Another thought slipped through his mind: break up with her now and
send her packing before it’s too late. If he really loved her it was the right
thing to do. Outside of owning his own shop someday, which was quickly becoming
a distant reality, his chances of living paycheck to paycheck the rest of his
life were suddenly looking up.

She deserved
better than that.

He had grown up living
that way after his dad had bailed, his mom always crying about overdue bills or
another surprise car problem. It was a tough road to hoe and one he would not put
her through that. If he did, it would purely be for selfish reasons and he would
come to despise himself for it. He wanted to take care of her, just like he had
promised Will that he would.

“I lost my job.”

She didn’t speak
for a few seconds and he wasn’t sure if she had heard him or not. “Are you
serious?”

He nodded
glumly. “I got canned.”

Brooke reached
out and took his big hand in her small one. “Oh no, I’m so sorry, baby. What
happened?”

He told her the
truth. All of it, terrified she would think he was violent. Terrified she would
think the shadow of his temper would fall on her next. But his temperament was
under control and he knew it. It’s just that sometimes when life pushes…you
have to push back.

“What a dick!”

Ben found her
angry green eyes. “That’s what I said.”

“That is not a
man you want to work for, Ben.”

“I didn’t think
I was.”

Brooke shook her
head from side to side, staring off into space. It both warmed and saddened him
at the same time. She was in his corner but he felt unworthy of her allegiance.

“I wish he
would’ve been in there last week so I’d at least know what the muscle head
prick looks like. If I saw him in the grocery store I’d give him a piece of my
mind!”

Ben almost
cracked a smile. Last week was the first time she had come into the shop and
Ben had been forever grateful Doug hadn’t been around to screw it up. She had
brought them lunch from Sonic and watched him work his magic on a guy wanting a
Batman logo on his chest. There had been something uplifting about her coming
into his work for the first time, like she was in it for the long haul.

“Look,” he began,
“things are about to get a little choppy around here. I’m not even going to
lie. You may wanna grab a life vest and abandon ship while you still can.”

Her eyebrows
lowered in slow motion. “Why would you say something horrible like that to me?”

“Because I care
about you.”

“What kind of
person do you think I am?”

Her offense to
the suggestion almost made him smile. “I just…” He stopped short to look into
the kitchen. “Did you already start cooking?”

“Not yet, the
oven’s preheating.”

“What do you say
we save it for tomorrow night and go grab something somewhere? I’ve got to get
out of here for a few minutes.”

“Sure, sweetie.”
Brooke curled up in his lap. “Everything will be fine. Something better always
comes along.”

“I know,” he
replied, his eyes deceiving him.

She kissed him
softly on the lips. “And don’t you dare touch that nest egg of yours and I mean
it. You’ll never get that shop if you do.”

He nodded
weakly.

“We will be
fine.”

The way she said
we
broke his heart, like this was her
problem as well. It wasn’t. She brushed her fingers across his cheek and gave
him another light peck on the lips. When she pulled away and stared at him with
that look in her eyes, there was a moment he was certain she would tell him she
loved him. Instead, she got up and turned the oven off.

***

Last call had
never come so quickly. The drinks went down with the time as they jumped from
one subject to another. Work, family, Doug, and dreams all made an appearance. As
did politics, religion, stories of lost loves, and back to Doug again. Ben
waved to the bartender as they pushed through the front door and spilled into
the night where snow and ice covered the sidewalk. She hooked her arm through
his, a cold wind turning their cheeks red as they hurried back to Ben’s place
around the corner.

“You do not?”
Her breath wafted out before them in white clouds.

“Sometimes.”

She pulled on
his arm and brought him to a full stop, furrowing her brow with bewilderment. “You
join volunteer search teams for people who go missing?”

“If it’s not too
far away and I have the time off.” He snorted, sending chilled air bursting
from his nose. “Now, I’ve got all the time off in the world.”

“Why?”

“Because I just
got fired. Remember?”

“No, I mean why
do you volunteer like that?”

He stared at the
wide walkway ahead. “Because I can.”

The wind stirred
tears in her eyes. “That’s kind of creepy.” She pulled him back on course and
started walking again, the two blocks to his place seeming further in the cold.

He laughed. “Why
is that creepy?”

“Volunteering
for missing people? Hello? What’re you on
Law
& Order: SUV
?” She laughed and slipped.

He caught her
arm just before she hit the deck. “You mean,
SVU
? SUV is a sport utility vehicle.”

“Whatever,” she
said, regaining her gait. “Stupid cop shows. They’re on every damn channel
every night. Network TV needs to take a page from cable.”

“That’s what
Netflix is for.” Ben’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He dug it out and
studied the screen. “Nice!”

“What?”

He handed her the
iPhone. “Check out this ink that Hick’s cousin, Jared, slapped on somebody
earlier today.”

She took it and stared
at the screen, its glare lighting up her bloodshot eyes. “Is that…a vampire
bite in some girl’s neck?”

“How cool is
that?”

Brooke tried not
to slip on the shoveled snow while squinting at the pair of jagged puncture
wounds with blood trailing from their darkened cores. “It looks so real.” She
looked up. “Who gets that on their neck?”

“You’d be
surprised,” Ben said. “I’ve only met Jared a couple of times but the dude’s got
skills, huh?”

“He does. Where
is he at again?”

“Milwaukee,
which is where Hicks is originally from.”

She tapped the
screen when it went dark, bringing the picture back to life. “Would you do that
tattoo on somebody or turn them down?”

“Very funny.”

A white guy in a
puffy coat meandered out from a bank’s cubby hole, cutting off their path. At first
glance, Ben thought he was a transient seeking shelter from the cold.

“What’s up,
homeboy? Member me?”

Ben slipped
between him and Brooke. “Should I?”

“What about you,
shorty?”

Brooke’s eyes
got round. “It’s the guy from Wooly’s,” she whispered, the cell phone trembling
in her hands.

“Wooly’s?” No
sooner had the word had slipped from Ben’s mouth, when a light went off in his
head. “What’re you following us?”

The guy
shrugged. “Just good timing I guess.”

Except for the
ringing in Brooke’s ear, everything went dead quiet. Not a soul around. It was
a week night with most already home tucked in bed.

Ben took Brooke’s
arm and turned to go the other way. “Come on,” he said, stopping in his tracks
when two black guys popped out of a Chevy Impala with shiny rims and skinny
tires parked in the street. “Oh shit.”

Brooke’s eyes
widened when she saw the aluminum baseball bat in the shorter man’s hands. She
pulled on Ben’s coat to go the other way but the white guy had already circled
around and blocked that exit. Indecision mounted as his two friends trotted
closer.

The taller
quarterback looking guy threw his arms out to the side. “Yo man, sup!”

Ben glanced at
the white guy behind them, who spit into the snow while glaring at Ben. “You
guys aren’t still pissed about that one night, are ya?” he asked, putting
himself between them and Brooke the best he could.

The pit-bull guy
gestured with the bat. “Naw, we ain’t pissed.”

“Damn! Look at
the titties on that bitch!” The taller guy with a black stocking cap ogled
Brooke’s chest beneath her coat, which was zipped down just enough to expose
the top of her cleavage.

She immediately
zipped it up and, despite the liquid courage coursing through her veins, bit
her tongue and remained silent.

“Just take it
easy, guys,” Ben said calmly, backing Brooke away from the three amigos.
 
“We don’t want any trouble.”

The short guy
busted up laughing, white streams jetting from his mouth. “Man, why is it that
white folk always say that right before there’s about to be trouble?”

The tall guy
strolled closer, a wry grin dancing on his chapped lips. “Let us see those
titties and we’ll walk away.”

“Probably been
awhile, huh?” Ben said, preparing to take out the big guy first in hopes the
other two would run scared. If push came to shove, it was the only play. “I
mean, you don’t seem like the most charming guy in the world.”

Brooke squeezed
arm, digging her nails through his coat.

The tall man’s
grin slid to the sidewalk. “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean, playa?” He
pulled a black handgun from his waistband and held it against his side. “Now, I
ain’t gonna ax you again.”

“Jesus Christ,
take it easy, man. Everything is cool.” Ben kept his eyes glued to the gun,
readying his fist, seeing his next move happen before it did.

Brooke’s breath
shot from her in shaky bursts and drifted up into the blackened sky.

The tall man’s
grin resurfaced. “Oh, I’m gonna enjoy this shit.”

Ben waited for
him to take two more steps before leaping into the air and driving a fist into
his face as hard as he could. A shrill crack, like a gavel striking a sound
block, pierced the night as his fist connected with the guy’s jaw. The tall guy’s
legs buckled with the Superman punch. He fell onto his side, the thin layer of snow
preventing his head from cracking directly against the cement. A pool of blood
spread beneath his head, turning the snow a dark shade of crimson. He didn’t
get back up.

And his friends
didn’t run either.