Ringside Read online

  He sauntered out as he pulled his cut back on his body, laying it down gingerly on his newly inked shoulder. “What do I owe you?”

  “Hundred,” I told him, rounding down.

  He smiled as he pulled a money clip from his pocket. It was bulging with twenties. “Only a hundred? Is that all our time together was worth to you?”

  I didn’t reply and I didn’t smile.

  He laughed as he pulled five twenties out of the clip. The he pulled out five more and slid them across the counter slowly. “I threw in a tip, sweetheart.”

  I pulled the money out from under his hand, careful not to touch him or the fire on his finger. I broke the stack in half, setting the extra hundred down in front of him.

  “Thanks, but no. I don’t accept tips.”

  For the first time his smile faltered, his face unamused. “That’s not very friendly.”

  “That’s my policy.”

  “That’s too bad because I’ve got another tip for you. When a man offers you a compliment and some kindness, you should take it.”

  “And when a woman tells you she doesn’t want what you’re offering,” Kellen said from behind me, “you should take it like a man and fuck off.”

  I jerked around to find him standing in the doorway to my office, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes hard on the guy across the counter.

  “I didn’t know we had company,” the guy told me slowly. “You should have told me.”

  Kellen took a step forward, his body seeming bigger the closer it came to us. “It doesn’t make a difference if she’s alone or not. If she doesn’t want what you’re selling, pack that shit up and hustle it elsewhere.”

  The guy grinned salaciously. “I was only trying to be nice, brother. Just wanted to give her the tip.”

  “You try and give her the tip again and I’ll break it off in your ass.”

  The biker stopped smiling.

  “Now go wake up Sleeping Beauty over there and get the hell out,” Kellen continued. “Store’s closed.”

  The guy swiped his hand under his nose, his stare cold on Kellen.

  Kellen looked back impassively.

  Finally the guy smiled again. It was empty but he backed away from the counter as he did it and I breathed a silent sigh of relief.

  “Yo, brotha!” he shouted, never taking his eyes off Kellen. “We’re out, man. Wake up.”

  The beard stirred on the couch. He sat up and groaned, rubbing at his face. He paused when he spotted Kellen. “Who the hell is this now?”

  “Nobody. Let’s go.”

  He glanced between his friend and Kellen, reading the room. His shoulders slumping in annoyance. “What’d you do?”

  “Nothin’.”

  “Bullshit, nothin’,” the beard swore angrily, standing up tall and closing on his friend. “That’s her man, isn’t it? You tried to fuck with his girl.”

  “We’re leaving.”

  “Damn right we’re leaving. I can’t fuckin’ take you anywhere, you walking hard-on. Jesus.”

  The biker pushed out the door, an angry jerk to his steps as he left the beard behind. He threw his leg over his bike as he grabbed his helmet and yanked it down hard on his head.

  The beard was close behind him. He paused at the door, looking at me apologetically. “He pay you?”

  “Yeah. Too much.” I picked up the extra hundred still sitting on the counter and held it out to him. “Here.”

  He waved it away. “Nah, keep it. Sorry for the trouble.”

  “She’s never inking him again,” Kellen warned him.

  “Trust me, nobody should.” He grinned faintly, nodded his head to me, and pushed out the door.

  Their bikes roared to life and they tore down the street into the growing darkness. Kellen stood silently behind me until we couldn’t hear them anymore, then he put his hand to my back.

  “You okay?” he asked gently.

  I grinned at him. “I think you scared me more than he did coming out of nowhere like that.”

  “Sorry.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I texted you asking if you needed any help closing and you didn’t answer. It’s Tuesday. I know you’ve got dinner with your family tonight. I figured you could use the help getting out of here on time.”

  I groaned, letting my head fall back. “I forgot it’s fucking Tuesday.”

  “It sneaks up on you.”

  “A lot like you. How long have you been here?”

  “Last half hour. I saw the one guy asleep and heard you working on the other guy in the room. I didn’t want to scare you while you were working, make you jerk the needle, so I parked in the office to wait for you. I watched you on the surveillance monitor to make sure you were okay.” He stepped up, putting his hands on my hips and hugging me to him loosely. “I don’t want you working alone at night like this. It’s dangerous. This neighborhood isn’t great.”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “It’s not a good idea.”

  I sighed, nodding my head. “You’re right. I know.” I wove my arms around his neck and grinned at him affectionately. “I’m glad you were here.”

  “Me too.”

  “What time is it?”

  He looked over my head to the clock on the far wall. “Ten to seven.”

  “Seriously?” I shrieked. I dropped my arms and looked around frantically for my keys. “I’ve gotta go. I’m gonna be late.”

  “Keys are in the office.”

  “Crap,” I cried, hurrying in to grab them and my purse. When I came back out I glanced around the store in dismay. “I haven’t done shit to close up yet.”

  Kellen opened the front door for me. “I got it, don’t worry.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You didn’t. I offered.” He motioned for me to go out the door. “Go. Be with your family.”

  I took two hesitant steps forward, guilt building in my belly. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive. I got this. Go.”

  I hurried forward to kiss him firmly on the lips. When I pulled back I was stopped by his dark eyes. By his handsome face and his helping hands. By his strength and power that made me feel safe.

  He smiled at my scrutiny. “What?”

  “Nothing. I just—I’m grateful for you. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah, Jen, I know that,” he answered earnestly. “I’m grateful for you too.”

  He walked me to my car. Made sure I was safely inside and driving away before turning to go back to the store to close for me.

  I loved him so desperately right then, his big body shrinking in my rearview as he took care of me, took on part of my load and generally made my world a little easier. A little lighter.

  This was Kellen at his best, at his core, the deepest part of him that lived and breathed below the ugly awful that lay just below the surface, just below the careless mask he showed the world. It was the part of him that once you saw you could never forget. That I could never walk away from, no matter what came. No matter how my heart hurt when the mask went up. When the fear pulled him under. I breathed for him as the waters took him too deep. As they turned dark and threatened to drown him forever. I breathed for him and I remembered him. I loved him and I lived him.

  ***

  Ever since I moved out of my parent’s house I’d kept a standing dinner date with them every Tuesday night. No one was allowed to bail, no excuses, and even though I cut it close that night, Laney and I were good at keeping to that promise.

  Kellen had been great at it too.

  He’d broken off his engagement to Laney at one of these dinners. It was the last one he’d been to almost a year ago and his chair sat conspicuously vacant at the table every week. We all knew why he couldn’t be there – she sat blond and bitter across from me – but we all missed his presence in one way or another. Dad missed the man he’d mentored, Mom missed the kid she’d taken into her home and her heart, I missed the friend
who made being myself feel like a good thing for once, and Laney… actually I didn’t know if Laney honestly missed him. Her anger over the breakup gave the illusion of missing the man she’d loved, but she hadn’t loved him. Not really. Not ever. Even she admitted that. I think what Laney missed was the security. The knowledge that she was marrying a man my parents adored, one that made a lot of money and other women dropped their panties for just seeing him walk down the street. Without that she felt lost. Adrift.

  It explained why she was still living with my parents and eating dinner at 6:30pm in her PJs.

  “How are things at the store?” Dad asked me, taking a bite of chicken.

  “It’s good, I guess.”

  “Still in the red?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are people coming in?”

  “A lot, yeah.” I chuckled to myself. “Almost too much, which is a weird problem. Bryce has been talking about me to a lot of people. About a third of my business say they came to check out Bryce’s apprentice. It’s a little overwhelming.”

  Dad smiled softly at me. “You’re only one person.”

  “I know, and I have Benji- Bently,” I corrected quickly, “working part time, but I can’t afford to hire more right now. That’s the suck of it. I need more people to cover the appointments but I can’t afford to hire more people unless I get more business, but I can’t handle the business without more people…” I took a deep breath, forcing a grin. “But it’s good. Everything is good. I love it. I’m just exhausted from it.”

  “It was a risk,” Mom reminded me lightly. “Owning your own business isn’t easy, especially one as unpredictable as yours.”

  “How is tattooing unpredictable?”

  “Fads always are.”

  “Tattooing isn’t a fad, Mom. It’s been around since before Christ.”

  “Well, I doubt Christ had a tattoo.”

  I looked to Dad for help, unsure how to even respond to that statement. He simply ignored it.

  “You need to take a break,” he told me.

  “I hear that a lot.”

  “You should listen. Remember what Roger said. It takes time to start turning a profit.”

  “I hear that a lot too,” I said with a smile, carefully avoiding the name of who had been saying it.

  Kellen’s name had been forbidden in Laney’s presence for the last year because what she lacked in commitment to school, work, or relationships she more than made up for in grudges. She could hold one like Gorilla Glue, and this one against Kellen was her magnum opus.

  “We should all go away somewhere,” Mom said brightly. “We haven’t taken a family vacation in forever.”

  “I can’t leave the shop for a vacation,” I reminded her.

  “You need a break though.”

  “Yeah, and I just took one last week. I closed for a day and a half. I can’t up and leave the state now.”

  “I can’t leave work either,” Laney added. “I finally have clients of my own. I can’t disappear on them.”

  Laney had gotten her degree in interior design and was working for a friend of our mom’s. She’d interned with her first, doing grunt work for free, but she was a full-fledged employee now. I was proud of her. Shocked she’d finally followed through on a major, but proud of her for making the commitment.

  “Okay, so we’ll take a weekend,” Mom amended. “We’ll go to that cabin by the lake. The one we spent the Fourth of July at two years ago.”

  “Three,” Dad corrected, talking through his food the way Mom hated.

  “No. Was it really that long ago?”

  “I’m pretty sure.”

  “I hated that place,” Laney grumbled, poking at her dinner. “Too many mosquitos and no Wi-Fi.”

  “Who got sick?” Mom asked, her eyes far away and pensive. “I can’t remember.”

  “No one,” I answered quickly. My eyes darted to Dad’s, pleading for help.

  He nodded vaguely in agreement. “No, Karen, no one. It was a wonderful trip.”

  “No,” she insisted. “Someone got really sick. Throwing up. I remember the smell. Laney, was it you?”

  “It was me,” I said quickly. “I got food poisoning.”

  “From the fish we caught in the lake,” Dad added.

  “No, she didn’t,” Laney countered evenly. “It was Kellen.”

  The room skidded to a halt. No one dared move. We barely breathed. Even Mom who had been pushing the issue froze in her tracks, watching Laney out of the corner of her eye.

  Laney looked at each of us slowly before laughing. “What’s wrong with everyone?”

  “Nothing,” Mom replied breathily. I think she’d been holding her breath. “Nothing’s wrong.”

  Laney rolled her eyes. “You can say his name. I’m not going to go ape shit.”

  “Language.”

  Dad sat back carefully. “In our defense you have a history of going ape shit when we mention him.”

  “Language,” Mom snapped again, exasperated.

  “Whatever, I’m over it,” Laney said flippantly.

  “You told us never to talk about him again,” I reminded her. “You’ve been calling him Fuckface for the last eight months.”

  “Language!”

  Laney sighed. “Look, I’m fine. Who needs him anyway? He’s an asshole.”

  Mom didn’t bother scolding her again and I bit my tongue, swallowing back my defenses of Kellen because what would it accomplish? Did I want her pissed off again? No. Was I more afraid of Over-It Laney than I had been of Fuck-Him-He’s-The-Anti-Christ Laney? Yes. Oh hell yes. And I could see it on my parent’s faces as well.

  A Laney filled with anger was a monster we understood. Laney filled with acceptance? That was a big ol’ bag of freaky.

  We moved on with dinner, still carefully avoiding Kellen’s name because now we had more fear than ever before, and Laney and I did the dishes together that night. Mom and Dad went out back to enjoy the multi-million dollar view of the ocean and a glass of red wine, leaving us alone in a strange but comfortable silence as we gathered, rinsed, and loaded the dishes into the washer. It felt like when we were kids and we’d crank up the music to the stereo and make a mess while our parents were away. Like when she’d twist my long hair into tiny little braids that hurt my head to sleep on but gave me the coolest wavy look when she gently loosened them in the morning. We’d steal chocolates from Mom’s expensive gift boxes, lying for each other when she gave us the third degree, a united front against the world the way only siblings could be. That was how sisters were. You hurt each other, you couldn’t help it, but you never stopped fighting – with or for each other.

  “I’m downgrading him to Dickbag,” Laney said suddenly.

  I took a dish carefully from her hands. “Kellen?”

  “Yes. As a gift to you I’ll take him from Fuckface to Dickbag.”

  “Wow,” I deadpanned. “And I didn’t get you anything. I’m so embarrassed.”

  “You should be. I’m St. Friggin’ Nick right now.” She grinned at me. “Ho. Ho. Ho.”

  “Are you quoting or am I getting a new nickname too?”

  “No, you’re still bitch.”

  “Thank God.” I took another dish from her, loading it into the washer. “What’s with the one-eighty?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “One day we’re dead to you if we use Kellen’s name, the next you’re over it. What happened?”

  She shrugged. “I’m feeling generous because I’m happy. I like my job.”

  “Nope.”

  “Yes, I do!” she protested.

  “No, I don’t doubt you like your job but that’s not what flipped the switch in you. It’s a guy, isn’t it?”

  She dove her hands inside the sudsy water, looking at the wall thoughtfully. “Maybe.”

  “It is! Who is he?”

  “No one.”

  “You’re really not going to tell me?”

  She rolled her head heavily toward me. “If
I do are you going to sleep with him too?”

  “Wow.” I blanched, the blood in my body pooling in my feet, heavy like the blow she’d landed. “Damn, so we’re not totally cool yet. Got it.”

  “Not yet.” She shook the bubbles from her hands and smiled sweetly at me. “But if you’re a very good girl for the rest of the year maybe Santa will take you off the naughty list.”

  Mom and Dad came back inside complaining about the cold and we all decided to watch a movie together on the TV that Mom had always complained would tear us apart. We huddled around its glow as we sat in the living room the way we did every week, but tonight something was different. Something was missing, something none of us truly missed. It was the tension. The anger and the pull between Laney and I. The snips and jabs at each other were replaced with a sweet silence as colors flickered across the screen and over the darkened room. Over our faces, placid and calm. Easy like we hadn’t been in a year.

  The movie was a Hitchcock flick with Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn, two of my favorite old Hollywood actors, but I fell asleep less than halfway through. I woke up to lights going out, feet shuffling over the carpet, and a blanket being draped over me gently.

  I curled in under it, closing my eyes and mumbling, “Thanks, Lane.”

  “You’re welcome, bitch,” she replied, her voice warm and smiling.

  I grinned against the couch cushion, counting the days until Christmas.

  “G’night.”

  Chapter Six

  Kellen

  The surfer Jenna tatted told her about a band he knew, one that played Sublime covers. They had a gig in L.A. a week later so Jenna and I made the drive into the city with Callum in tow. Sam was supposed to join us but she bailed at the last minute claiming she was sick.

  “She’s not really sick, is she?” I asked Jenna as I steered us onto the expressway.

  She shook her head, her long dark hair shining in the lights that blurred by. Night was coming and you could tell that fall was here. The air was crisper, forcing us spoiled Californians to throw on jackets and jeans with our flip flops. Jenna’s tattoos were covered by layers of clothing and long sleeves to keep out the cold, keeping her beauty locked away. I missed the summer already.