All Horns & Rattles: A Baxter Boys Novel, Page 3

  “Got a girlfriend yet?” she asks.

  The vision of Nina flashes in my brain. She is so not my girlfriend and would probably kick my ass for even thinking about it. “No. You?”

  “No girlfriend for me either. Tried it. Not my thing. I like dick.”

  Half the time I don’t know if she’s serious or not. Knowing Julia, I’m pretty sure she explored that side of her sexuality. Not that I care, but Mom and Dad had better never find out or they’ll send her off to one of those conversion camps. Then again, Julia is twenty-one. There isn’t much they can do if my sister did turn out to be a lesbian. The sad part is, I might be the only one in the family who would be okay with it. Hey, love is love and if a woman is what fills her heart then I’d be happy for her.

  “How about a boyfriend then?”

  “Nope. Don’t have one of those either.”

  “How is school going?” Julia, like me, wanted to get the hell out of Texas and is studying pre-law and business at Temple University. When I first got to New York, it was Julia I missed the most. Maybe it’s because we shared a womb, but that’s the furthest we’d ever lived apart and it was weird not having her within spitting distance.

  Julia’s leaning back in the deck chair, staring up at the sky, the beer bottle dangling from her fingers and is real quiet. Julia and quiet aren’t usually used in the same sentence. “What’s wrong?”

  “What if I don’t want to go into law?” She takes a drink and then blows out a sigh. “I don’t want to live my life in suits and polyester.”

  I chuckle. Her favorite thing to wear is a pair of well-worn jeans and a cotton t-shirt. She probably wouldn’t mind working in the corporate offices if she could wear that to work.

  “Mom and Dad let you follow your dream, but not me,” she finally says.

  Julia wanted to be an artist and our parents put a stop to it immediately. It was perfectly fine that she took art classes in high school and got awards on the state level, but she wasn’t going to be allowed to do that as a career. However, they were fine with me getting the boxing out of my system. It sucks and it’s unfair, but our parents have very specific ideas of what girls can do and what guys can do.

  Miguel would love them. Where Nina is concerned, it’s still 1950, but with everyone else, he doesn’t care what they do, who they are or what they like. The most liberal guy for his age that I know. Then again, I come from the Bible belt where we cut our teeth on conservatives. I hadn’t met any liberal old guys before.

  “I’ve been taking art classes,” she finally says.

  “Good for you.”

  “I’m good.”

  “I know.” If you describe to Julia what you want drawn, it’s like she can see right into your brain and sketch exactly what you were thinking.

  “That’s not all.”

  “Are you changing your degree?” I ask slowly.

  “No.” Then she sets up and turns to me. “But you have got to swear that you will not say a word to anyone.”

  I’ve held Julia’s secrets my entire life and she’s held mine. I’d never betray her. Not even to our parents. “I promise.”

  “It started with a tattoo.”

  I choke on my beer and it practically snorts out my nose. “You got a tattoo?” I whisper. Mom’s going to flip her shit when she finds out.

  “Do you want to see it?”

  Since I haven’t seen it since we’ve been home, I’m pretty sure it’s in a place that I shouldn’t be looking. “Where is it?”

  “Lower back. Just above my panty line.”

  “What is it?”

  “”Leviticus 19:38.”

  “The entire verse?” It’s not that long but it’s still a lot of writing for a tattoo.

  “No. Just Book, chapter, verse.”

  “When?”

  “About a month after I got to school. Freshman year.”

  That was a month after our birthday. That’s when Julia had gotten her ears pierced because she didn’t need parental approval, which our mother was against. I can’t imagine what her reaction would be to a tattoo. Well, actually I can and I don’t want to be anywhere near Texas if she finds out.

  Maybe it’s actually 1900 around here.

  Anyway, Mom kept repeating to her. “You shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead, nor tattoo any marks on you: I am the Lord.”

  Julia snorts.

  Mom even mentioned it to our pastor, who found a way to work defiling of the flesh into the sermon. Since some of us were headed off to college the following week, it was a sermon on all kinds of sins so we weren’t tempted to drink, fornicate or do anything else that might be considered a sin. It was a real fire and brimstone sermon. One I hadn’t heard in a long time. Not that the sermon probably had an impact on any of us going off to college. Most, if not all, had already drank, pierced something, and had sex. Again, not much else to do around here.

  “I did it to get back at her because I was still pissed about her going to the pastor. Like a hole in each ear is something to be ashamed of. A lot of girls had pierced ears. I was the only one not allowed until I was eighteen when she was sure I’d make the right decision.”

  “Isn’t it funny how they can pick and choose what they want from the Bible when it suits them then turn around and remind us that Jesus did away with the old laws?”

  “Dave was great. He got why I was doing it, even tried to talk me out of it, but when I wasn’t budging, he talked me into a light color, just in case I’d be sorry later.” She shrugs. “It’s easier to cover than black, plus in time, it might fade.”

  “Is this the same Dave you talk about a lot?”

  “Yep. He’s been training me.” Her eyes look into mine.

  “Training you to do what?”

  “I’ve been apprenticing under him for two and a half years.”

  “You’re going to be a tattoo artist?”

  “Yeah.” She bites her bottom lip and watches me, real carefully. “I’m good.”

  “I have no doubt.”

  “It’s what I want to do, Tenny.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Tennyson is too long, you know that.”

  “People in New York call me Tex.”

  She rolls her eyes and snorts.

  “How can you be doing that and going to school?”

  “Dave has been great. I get to work around my school and homework and when I have to come home on break. He gets it. His parents were kind of uptight too.”

  I hadn’t given much thought about Dave. Julia has mentioned him, but I thought he was a friend and that’s it. A guy she just goes to college with. Not a guy who has her changing her life. “How old is Dave?”

  She frowns. “Probably fifty. Big guy, kind of like a bear, friendly as hell, and the best mentor anyone can have.”

  “So, not a boyfriend.”

  She scrunches her nose. “I love Dave, but he could be my dad and that’s kind of gross.”

  “Are you going to finish out school?” I finally ask.

  “Yeah. I have to. That’s the only reason I’ve really stuck with the whole boring business thing because I want my own shop someday.”

  “What are you going to do, open it up on Main Street, right next to the beauty shop and café?” The spot has been empty since the women’s exercise place failed.

  She snorts. “Wouldn’t Mom and Dad love that?”

  I look into her eyes. “You aren’t going into the family business, are you?”

  “No more than you are. We’ll just have to figure out how to tell them that neither one of us are coming back.”

  “I never said I wasn’t,” I argue.

  “You’re not,” she says with confidence. “I know you, remember? I could tell by the way you answered their questions that the only time you’ll be back here is to visit.”

  I glance down and clutch my beer. She’s right. I’m not coming back.

  4

  “Nina.” Someone shakes my sho
ulder and I blink open my eyes. I’m curled up in a back booth. My bag is under my head and my suitcase is shoved against the wall under the table. After I ate last night, Betsy, Barrett and Abby told me to crash and that they’d watch over me.

  Turning my head I blink up at Betsy.

  “Morning crowd is coming in. We’re gonna need the table soon.”

  It’s not even light out, but this is one of the busier times. Most of the customers are tradesmen who get a big breakfast and coffee before starting work for the day. It also means that Miguel’s will be open soon.

  She puts a cup of coffee in front of me along with a plate of scrambled eggs, toast, hash browns and bacon. I’m not exactly hungry since I ate at midnight, but I’m not about to turn down a meal. Especially since it might be the last one I get until my shift ends tonight and hopefully I’ll have some cash to pay for a late supper.

  “Watch my stuff?” There are four people I trust in this world: Betsy, Miguel, Tex and Barrett.

  “Sure thing.” Betsy nods and I slip out of the booth and head for the bathroom.

  A quick glance in the mirror tells me what I already suspected. I’m a mess. My hair is in every direction having come loose from the hair tie. I smooth it the best that I can and then braid it, which isn’t easy with the tangles. As soon as I have money to spare, if that ever happens, I’m getting my hair cut. It hasn’t seen a pair of scissors in four years and this wild mess needs to be contained.

  “Barrett got this one, for your birthday,” Betsy tells me when I come back to the table.

  “Thanks, Barrett,” I call. He works the same shift as Betsy. When he’s done here, when the breakfast crowd thins out, he’ll head over to the gym to train for a fight that’s coming up in a few weeks.

  He sticks his head through the opening into the kitchen, winks at me, grins and goes back to cooking.

  I eat the eggs and hash browns, but wrap the bacon and toast up in a paper napkin. They are for later if I get hungry. It’s not like they are going to go bad or anything. Then I shove them into my bag and grab my suitcase.

  “Guess I’ll head out and see what I can find,” I tell Betsy before giving her a hug. “Thanks for everything.”

  “Wish I could give you a place to stay, kid, but my small apartment is overrun.”

  I already knew that and didn’t even ask. Four people live in her tiny two bedroom. She doesn’t even have a couch that’s available. “That’s okay. I’ll make do.” I grin. “I always do.”

  That is something I need to remember. I do land on my feet. I can take care of myself.

  Turning south I walk five blocks and stop in front of Miguel’s. Lights are on inside, but they don’t open for fifteen more minutes. Some guys make arrangements to come in and train earlier, especially if they have a fight coming up, so I try the door.

  It’s open and I know my luck has turned. First a shower, then clean clothes, and then I’ll figure out what I’m doing to do today.

  “Nina,” Miguel calls as he comes from his office.

  I can’t help but smile. I love the old man. “Hey, Miguel.”

  “Glad you’re here.”

  He seems a bit frazzled this morning, which is so unlike him. “What’s going on?”

  “That Johnny,” he grumbles.

  “What did he do this time?” Johnny is a promising boxer, or would be if he’d first listen to Miguel’s coaching, and second, if he’d stop listening to Bambi, and third, would get his head out of his ass and keep his ego in check. Miguel took Johnny under his wing when the kid was about fifteen and trained him to fight. That was before Johnny fell in love with a stripper.

  “You know he and his girlfriend headed out to Las Vegas right after Christmas.”

  Their little vacation before Johnny started digging in and training for his next fight.

  My stomach sinks. “Oh God. Don’t tell me they got married.” And probably by an Elvis too. Bambi probably thought it really was Elvis.

  “Worse. She got a job doing what she does best.”

  My lips quirk. “Taking off her clothes between lap dances?”

  Miguel shakes his head and the lines around his forehead deepen as he frowns. “Johnny got a new trainer and an agent who is going to make him big.”

  “Are you fucking serious?” I yell. Miguel gave Johnny everything. Treated him like a son. Gave him a place to live and a job. Made him a boxer. He is just about to break and now he’s going to leave Miguel in the dust?

  Miguel shakes his finger at me. “Language.”

  “Sorry,” I mumble, but I’m not. Miguel hates it when I swear, and he especially hates the F-bomb and has kicked people out for even whispering the C-word, as he calls it.

  “You have no school, right?”

  “Not until fall.” I shrug.

  “Good. You work more hours.”

  “I can work today, but I need to be at the diner tonight.”

  He frowns. “You only work there on Friday and Saturday nights, and Sunday during the day. I get you the rest of the time.”

  “I wasn’t on the schedule for here tonight, so I picked up the hours at the diner.”

  “Okay, okay.” He holds up his hands. “Don’t do it again, I need you here. I moved Tex to days, but he won’t be back until the fifth.”

  “So you want me nights, temporarily.” I could really use the extra cash, especially right now.

  “Permanently!”

  “I can’t. What about my other job, the team, training….”

  He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “Tex has classes, you don’t. I don’t care when you work or he works, as long as one of you is here.” Miguel leans on the counter. “Look Nina, you and Tex are about the only people I can count on right now to watch this place. Joel and Ian can cover some shifts, but the other guys work with the boxers or babysit for when the kids are here.”

  “Coaches, not babysitters,” I remind him.

  Joel and Ian are both former college football players and best friends since middle school. Ian had planned on going professional but after a bad tackle his senior year of college that fractured his right arm and wrist, his career came to an end since he couldn’t throw anymore. At least, not like he used to. Not the pro-level, over-head long passes he was known for. Joel chose not to go professional, even though he could have, but he’d already suffered too many concussions and didn’t want to add any more head injuries to his medical record. Now they are both back in college. Ian for sports medicine and Joel for physical therapy and they hope to be attached to a sports team one day.

  Ian plays on the men’s rugby team and coaches women’s soccer. Joel plays soccer and helps coach women’s rugby. They both help with the weight training at the gym. Between their jobs and teams here, school, and their other job as bouncers and bartenders at the Poison Apple, they can’t work that many shifts for Miguel unless they want to give up sleep or something.

  “I could try and hire someone else, but you and Tex care.”

  I do care. I love this place. Without it I may have never discovered something I’m good at that may land me a scholarship next year. At least I hope that happens.

  “Do you remember what brought you in my door that first time?”

  I nod. I was twelve and afraid of one of the boys in the foster home. So far I’d been lucky to remain unmolested, which unfortunately, a lot of kids in the system can’t claim. For some, it was before they got in the system and the reason they are in the system. For others, it was because of who they encountered in the system. It wasn’t always the foster parents but others out in the world who preyed on and took advantage of the weak.

  But that didn’t mean I hadn’t been hurt before and I was determined to fight anyone who thought they could hurt me again. I may not have even gone into Miguel’s, except a new kid came into the home where I was living. He was fifteen and liked to corner me, come in the bathroom when I was in the shower, sneak into my room when I was in bed, and things like that.
He hadn’t done anything yet, but kept asking when I’d get my period because then I’d be old enough for the only thing girls were good for.

  Even though I mentioned it to my foster parents, they didn’t seem concerned and told me he was just being a boy and didn’t really mean anything by it. My gut warned me otherwise, so one day on the way home from school I came into Miguel’s and asked him to teach me to fight. I had saved up five dollars for a lesson. I was tired of being a victim and I was going to protect myself no matter what.

  “You opened my eyes to a problem I could do something about.”

  “If it wasn’t me, it would have been someone else.”

  “What did I know?” he holds up his hands as if at a loss.

  “You knew a lot,” I remind him. “You already had a gym and kids came here before and after school to play basketball or jump rope or anything they want.”

  “If I keep them off the street and away from gangs, they won’t drive by and shoot out my windows one day.”

  That had been his philosophy, and still was. The place fills with kids before and after school and when school is on break. They come here just to hang out because it is a safe place to be while their parents are at work. “I know.” Some of the kids did end up in the gangs, but none of them have brought the violence to the gym, and the four streets surrounding Miguel’s is violence free. Like there is a code that this place doesn’t get touched, even though kids who used to play basketball together ended up in rival gangs before they turned eighteen.

  “I didn’t think girls needed more,” he admits.

  After I told Miguel why I wanted to learn to fight, he’d been shocked and then angry. He taught me some skills, but didn’t take my five dollars. I kept coming back, staying until I had to go home, and learned more, because until my first visit, I hadn’t known this was a place kids could come to. He never charged me once. About two weeks after I came in the door that first time, he’d hired a self-defense instructor. The class filled with girls and women and he had to keep adding more classes. He didn’t set a price like he did for other lessons like boxing or require a membership for people who just wanted to use the gym or play in one of the leagues. The girls and women coming for self-defense paid what they could. If they couldn’t pay anything, they still got to attend the class. Since that time, guys have been joining too. Most of them are smaller guys, who are bullied. Or gays, transgender, or anyone who is an easy target to the monsters, uneducated and Neanderthals of the world.