Chapter 6

The large expanse of property behind the shop could have been a campground. By the time I slowly caught up, the old man was already sat at a weather-worn picnic table, and Zeke had a grill fired and going on the opposite side of the yard.

Between them was a charred fire pit, a corn hole set, a broken tether ball pole, a scattering of tiki torches stuck into the ground in random order, and as if all of that wasn't enough to scream suburban family vacation, a rusty motor home looked abandoned on the far backside.

I looked around as I slowly took the seat across from Mr. Frankfire. "Why do I feel like we're about to sing Kumbaya?"

His lips curved into a crooked grin. "You just be quiet." He chanced a glance over his shoulder at Zeke, then turned back to me with a more serious expression. "I swear, for a girl who seems smart, you sure do some stupid shit."

I'm stupid? If anything, us sitting here was stupid. I opened my mouth to give him hell, but the old man cut me off.

"We live on the street, girl! When someone offers you food, you don't just turn it down. That's the difference between livin' and dyin'."

Living and dying. "I'm more concerned about what comes after the food." I shot him a look that made him bow his head. "It's not smart to trust just any asshole that offers you a piece of bread. I've got my reasons for not trusting him. Did you ever think of that?"

He looked to the sky as if asking for aid, then looked at me as if I were an infant. "You can trust this one."

I scoffed. "Really? And how do you know that?"

"I'm older than dirt, that's how," he hissed. "I've been on these streets longer than you've been alive. Hell, you weren't an itch in your daddy's crotch, and I was out here." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "You don't want to live like this. Not your whole life." His eyes crinkled, and his jaw firmed as much as it could behind aging loose skin. "You need to take this damn job. You're going to take this job, and if you don't... you can just go about your damn way after this."

I stared at him. Was he kicking me out? From under a fucking bridge?

I laughed.

His eyes narrowed. "You think this is funny?"

His voice was raw. Emotional. My laughter dulled at the sound of it. If I didn't know better, I'd think he actually cared, and looking at him now, I almost believed he did.

He cleared his throat. "I've seen a lot of shit in my life, girl." His gnarled knuckles whitened as he clasped his hands together and stared at them. "I like you," he said. "I like your spirit, but if you don't get out, it's gonna fizzle and die. I've seen it happen before. I've got no aim to see it again." His eyes met mine. "I'm too damn old for that shit."

Zeke chose that moment to set a plate of steaks on the table top between us. I'd been too caught up in the old man to notice him, and something in his expression let me know he'd heard at least part of what was said.

He set a stack of paper plates down beside the bounty and took the seat beside Mr. Frankfire. "I didn't have anything to go with them," he said, voice as even and steady as it'd been. If he had heard, he didn't let it show. I instantly liked him a fraction more for it. "But I cooked up six of them." He smiled as he took the plates and began separating them.

I watched his fingers work, his arms move about as he placed one down in front of me then the old man and himself. I took a closer look at the artwork spreading across every inch of his skin. A dragon. A horse. Flames. But the largest and most detailed stood out the most.

A bear, big enough to cover his forearm from elbow to wrist, silhouetted by black inked trees and a mountain range backdrop. I stared at it without even thinking. Obviously a grizzly, but composed of white, there was nothing aggressive about the way the animal was portrayed. It just seemed to be. Peaceful-like. Then below it... a date.

Zeke plopped a steak onto my plate, and I jolted.

I met his eyes and knew he'd noticed my scrutiny. But instead of commenting, he served himself and started to eat.

I turned my attention to my food. The smell hit me first, like the memory of a long, lost love. Saliva pooled inside my mouth, and my hands shook as I cut off a piece and lifted it to my lips.

Heaven. I closed my eyes. It'd been so long since I'd had real food, I'd almost forgotten what it was like. How long had it been since I'd had meat? Something hot? Something besides shit peanuts or old bread? The food they handed out at the coalition was always days expired and stale, but this...

I opened my eyes and cut off another piece. Then another. Before I knew it, I was ravenous. I paid little mind to the men at the table. If they'd chosen that moment to stick a hand too close, I'd probably have eaten it too. When I made it to the last bit, Zeke plopped another in its place without comment.

The old man smiled at me when I met his gaze. His steak was over half-way gone, and he seemed to be enjoying it just as much as I was.

Zeke finished off his last bit and pushed the plate to the side. "I know you're running from someone."

The atmosphere charged the moment he spoke the words. The food sat heavier. My chest tightened, and my heart quickened as if readying itself for me to run.

He fixed me with a level gaze, and my grip on the steak knife tightened.

Zeke's gaze darted to my hands then back to my face. "I can promise you, whoever it is, I'm not a part of it."

I waited, breath held. Why I hadn't left already was beyond me. I took a look at the old man, his solemn face, then chanced a glance in every direction around me as if Drake would suddenly step out from behind a tree and laugh at my stupidity.

Zeke continued. "I want to help you."

I laughed. A dry sound that held no humor. "Now I know you're full of shit."

He didn't smile. If anything, his eyes softened. "You see this place?" He motioned to the shop. "I built it. It was just a garage when I started." His other hand lifted, pointing out the motor home. "I lived in that old RV. Didn't have two pennies to rub together after I bought it and this bit of land."

He lowered his arms back to the tabletop and leaned forward. "Nobody offered to help me. They'd have preferred I'd just disappear. That's how it is for folks like us... Ex-cons..."

My breath caught. He knew. Maybe the girl told him, or maybe he heard me talking with the sweaty manager.

Zeke nodded slowly. "I did ten years." He paused to study my reaction, then continued on when there wasn't one. "I was an MMA fighter, but the fights I did weren't legal." His lips thinned as he spoke. "I was jacked up on pills, out of my fucking mind. Next thing I knew, there's a man in front of me with his head bashed in and cops everywhere." His eyes shifted to the tabletop. "You see, we just happened to get raided at that exact moment. What are the fucking odds?" He smiled, but it wasn't the happy, carefree smile I'd seen on him before. There was no pleasure behind the expression. Only remorse. Regret.

"They sentenced me fifteen years to life," he said. "I wasn't getting out. I'd accepted it. After what I did to that man, no warden was ever going to grant me parole."

Perhaps I was an idiot. Perhaps I just wanted to believe, but there was something in the way he spoke, in his expression, his voice, that made me loosen my grip on the knife.

Zeke noticed, and the action seemed to urge him on. "Ten years into my sentence, a miracle happened. The district attorney in charge of my case was caught tampering evidence. Every case he'd ever handled had to be thrown out. Including mine." He grinned, then sobered as he leveled me with a long look. "The real miracle was me getting arrested in the first place. I realized my life was shit, and when I got out, I vowed that I was going to do better."

I stared at him, and for that brief moment, that fraction of a second, I felt connected to somebody apart from myself. I felt like somebody got it. Like maybe it wasn't just me that Karma liked to shit on.

Zeke nodded again. "I feel like that's what you're trying to do now. Am I wrong?"

I shook my head, unable to find my voice.

He motioned to the shop again. "Everyone that works for me has a story. We're all fucked up in some way. But these people are my family." His voice grew thick, his tone passionate. "I don't know what your story is, but I see something. You might think I'm crazy, but I've just got this feeling like you're supposed to be here. I'm supposed to help you, and you're supposed to be a part of that family."

Family. The word felt vile as it crawled across my memory. I'd never had a family until I met Drake, and apart from a select few, they hadn't done me any good.

"Take the job, girl," Mr. Frankfire spoke, voice terse.

I met his pleading gaze, and the million warning bells that rang inside my head seemed muffled beneath the two words echoing through my mind... What if?

It was a chance. It was what I needed. What if this was my shot at normal, karma's final offer, a life, and I passed it up because of fear.

Because of Drake.

My jaw clenched. Either way, I was doomed. Whether it be from this man or the frigid cold. I looked at Zeke, answer solidified, and my heart thundered as I forced my tongue to form the words. "I'll take it."

He smiled. "That's great." He patted the old man's back, his dark aura disappeared and the joy returned. Like an uncle, he looked at me with a warmth that seeped to my bones. My chest lightened in a way I was unaccustomed to.

"Well, then..."

"Jessie."

His smile widened. "Jessie. I need a tattoo."

Every nerve inside me jumped to attention at the prospect. "A tattoo?" I asked, barely suppressing my excitement.

He chuckled, another throaty sound that seemed to echo from his belly. "Yes. Whatever you want. Consider it a job interview."

I paused, lips parting. This man was giving me, a complete stranger, full reign to tattoo anything I wanted. Was he insane? "What if I put a big dick on your back?"

The old man cursed at the same time Zeke bellowed out a roaring laugh.

"If you do that, I won't hire you." He stood and motioned for me to follow.

I looked at Mr. Frankfire.

"I swear, girl, if you fuck this up, I'll have your hide."

I nodded and stood. Just the thought of having a gun in my hand, of feeling the vibration and allowing myself to purge all the stress and pain of the past few weeks into my art, had my hand twitching at my side. "I won't fuck it up," I said, and I wouldn't. Trick or no, I was going to give it all I had.

Sorry for the delay! I had a lot going on with the holiday, but I'm all caught up now. Today's my birthday and I get to write all day 😁❤️ Hope you enjoyed! Frequent uploads start... Now!