^^ Mr. Frankfire above

Chapter 5

Throughout the night, as I lay curled in my worn blanket surrounded by cold, dank cement, I thought about the man. Each time I revisited that smooth voice, his simple joke, and the forgotten feeling of genuine laughter, I found it harder not to smile again.

It'd been fun. Fun. I didn't have fun, and I especially shouldn't have been having fun now, of all times.

But he'd shared his drink with me, expecting nothing in return. He'd made no objection, nor shown any sign of irritation when I'd made my abrupt escape.

What was his angle? Didn't he know that's not how it works? Men buy women drinks so they'll sleep with them. I remembered his smooth explanation of the others around us and stared stoically at the ground beneath me. He'd seen right through me, every scar, physical and non. You seemed like you needed it.

I pushed thoughts of him away and focused on the warmth instead. The alcohol still coursed through my blood and chased away the October chill. I prayed it'd chase away my demons as well.

A soft pat to my face woke me. "Girl," another slap, "Get up! What're you doin'? You're usually gone by now."

I clenched my eyes shut tighter. He might as well have been beating me in the head with a hammer with his gentle slaps, and the sound of his voice shot daggers to my brain and bile into my throat. "I'm not going. Go away." I tried to turn, but one grizzled hand stopped me.

Mr. Frankfire yanked me to my back and peered down through narrowed eyes. "Are you sick?" His furrowed brow and pursed mouth deepened the wrinkles on his face. He palmed my forehead, then my cheek. "You're not hot."

I shook him away. "There's no point. Nobody's going to hire me. I've gone all the way across town."

His jaw set. "That's bullshit, girl. Get up! You must not be doing it right." He bared his teeth when I didn't move. "C'mon! Get your shit! We're going!"

His heightened tone was a jackhammer to my shriveled and dying brain. I sucked in a breath and clutched my forehead. "Fuck off, old ma– Mother Fuck! Ow! Ow!"

He gripped my ear and yanked hard. "No respect! You young people nowadays think you can talk to elders however you damn well please! Not me!" He released his grip, and showed no remorse as I rubbed the spot where he'd held me. "Get. Your. Shit."

I sneered at his retreating form. The fact that I hadn't swung on him was a testament that my soft spot for the old man had gone too far. Regardless, I grabbed my pack from the ground, hoisted it over my shoulder, and muttered every vile word I could think of as I fought to catch up.

We walked for ages, and I didn't hide my smug expression when each place the old man pointed too was one I'd already tried. Then we made it to the grocery store, and I made a point to pull my hood up and let my face fall forward.

Would he wait around, check here again? He had to know I wasn't stupid enough to come back. My lips pursed as I realized my own thoughts. I obviously wasn't very smart at all.

We kept going, down to where the businesses thinned to give way to houses. I kept my gaze mostly on the ground, hair hung loose around me. This is a stupid fucking idea.

"Did you try that one?" The old man's arm entered my line of vision as he motioned to my right.

I cut my eyes over.

"It looks like you'd fit in."

Painted black and heavily graffitied, the converted garage stood on a large lot and looked out of place in its surroundings. I wouldn't have known it was once a garage if it wasn't for the large steel door directly center of it. Additions had been added on either side, and the one to the left had a door labeled entrance. Across the original door, a giant skull with snakes weaving in and out of its hollow sockets was painted with such detail I could do nothing but stare in awe of it. Cutthroat Ink graced the area above in sprawling, neon green script.

A tattoo shop.

A figure rounded the corner of the building, and I whipped my face away and ducked. It was the man, Zeke. The one I'd seen the day before. My mind ran rampant, a combination of panic and stunned revelation. My racing heart and pulsing adrenaline made it hard to remain clear headed, and a nagging thought drifted through my consciousness.

Had he been telling the truth?

Mr. Frankfire, having none of the social skills needed to notice my reaction, called out, "Hey! This place hiring?"

"Shut up," I hissed as I turned and yanked his arm.

My eyes met Zeke's across the way, and I watched the recognition spark within his gaze. He smiled and steadily approached us.

Mr. Frankfire pulled away. "Stop it, girl. No wonder you can't get a job. Just smile pretty and let me talk to him."

I eyed his rough appearance. He looked far worse than I did. But that wasn't the point. The point was only a few feet away and gaining ground fast.

Zeke reached the spot in front of us and offered a friendly smile. He looked at the old man, then me. "You changed your mind?"

Mr. Frankfire shot me a look, but he didn't get a chance to say whatever snarky comment he undoubtably had before his attention was pulled away.

"I'm Zeke." He held a hand out, and there wasn't a hint of judgement or pause at the dirt crusting Mr. Frankfire's. "It's nice to meet you. I met this girl yesterday, but I think I gave her a spook." His eyes met mine. "I apologize. I promise, I mean no harm." He motioned to the building behind him. "This is my shop." The words were slow and careful. "As you can see, it's real. All legit."

For a small moment, a tiny flame of hope flickered within my chest, warming the cold, dead, hollow heart inside me. But before it could burn too bright, I snubbed it out. No chance. This couldn't be real. It was too good, too convenient. I narrowed my eyes and opened my mouth to speak...

Zeke cut me off. "You folks are just in time for lunch."

"I don't think..."

"Shut up, girl," Mr. Frankfire said. "We'd love some..."

"I'm not hungry. Neither is he." I grabbed the old man's arm and tugged, but he'd suddenly become a whole hell of a lot stronger than he looked.

"Shut up, girl!" he hissed. He looked back to Zeke in a way "grown folks' would around a pestering child. "We'd love some lunch. I know for a fact that girl hasn't eaten in two damn days."

My mouth fell open. "How the fuck could you know that?"

"Your stomach growls like a damn bear at night, girl! I'm an old man. I need to rest. How can I be expected to sleep with that racket you make all hours of the night!"

I glared at him.

His lips curved into a sly smile, and he shot me a wink. In a conspiratorial voice, he leaned over and whispered, "Just take the damn sandwich. I'm hungry."

Zeke heard and grinned. "We don't have sandwiches. But I've got T-bones."

I opened my mouth...

"Girl! I ain't ever hit a woman in my life, but if you say one word!" Mr. Frankfire said, hand lifted and ready.

Zeke let out a deep, belly laugh that rumbled his chest. His smile widened and eyes lit as he clasped a hand onto the old man's shoulder. "Calm down, old timer. No worries. We'll get you fixed up." He turned, guiding the old man with one massive arm draped across his shoulders.

I stared at their backs and chewed my lip. I could have ran. I could have turned away and left the risk behind where it belonged. But knowing Drake, if this was a bad deal, he'd cut that old man into pieces and save the scraps for when I came looking.

"Shit," I murmured, jaw tight and hands fisted.

I really needed to stop caring about that crazy old shit.

I stiffly followed behind them.

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