I’m a little grateful it’s always just been Manny and me. We’re as close as two brothers can be and always have each other’s backs. That’s the biggest reason I need to stay the fuck away from Celeste Flores. If I piss off her father, that could ruin things for Manny because Toni Valentine is way too close to Arturo’s family for there not to be blowback on them.
In the interest of maintaining friendships, I pull out my phone and snap a photo of Sam’s drawing. This kind of artwork isn’t my style, but it’s right up Toni’s alley. I got a few token tattoos from her early on but haven’t been back to her shop in San Diego since Mad Dog set up shop closer to home.
I have no idea if Toni’s looking for an apprentice, or even if she’d accept me as a reference for the kid. But in the tattooing world, Toni Valentine is a household name, so giving him that chance would be worth it.
I pay Maddox, and we bump fists. His steel-eyed gaze is fixed on me. “Photo shoots happen on Sunday afternoons. When it’s healed enough, give me a call and I’ll set you up.”
4
Maddox
Sam’s found his second wind and is scrubbing down my shop like there’s no tomorrow when I lock up. I eye the bright yellow rubber gloves he wears as he wipes down the chair with a damp rag, pauses to play air drums to whatever music is blasting through his earbuds, then spins on his heels and bobs his head on the way to the sink. He belts out half a lyric to “Lonely Boy” by The Black Keys, peels off his gloves, and turns, stopping cold for a second when he finally sees me leaning in the doorway.
“Cute,” I say, nodding to the gloves. Sam shrugs.
“You’ve drilled into my head how important my hands are if I want to do this. I figure if they work for Mom, they’ve gotta work for me. She always has soft hands.” His eyes brighten, and he grins. “You think Leo can really hook me up with someone? Any idea who it is he’s referring me to?”
“No, but you’ve seen his ink. He’s a fucking connoisseur of tattoos, if those exist.” I’m not about to tell him who I suspect Leo intends to talk to, or that one of the man’s closest tattoo artist friends is the same woman my youngest brother has had wet dreams about ever since he hit puberty.
“Man, that would be the bomb if I can get an apprenticeship somewhere in the city when I graduate. I’m thinking maybe I sell my designs while I’m honing my skills. When I get good, maybe you’ll even change your mind about going in together on this place.”
I chuckle. “We’ll see.”
He goes back to work, but when I continue to stare, he tugs one earbud free and gives me an inquisitive look.
“How the hell did you know Celeste?” I ask.
Sam straightens up. “Seriously? You don’t think I’d remember the girl who earned you a beating worse than Dad ever gave you?”
“You were six years old. It was more than a decade ago.”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I just remember shit. Like how you and Mom both left me alone a lot when I stayed at the studio in the evenings. She had meetings with Celeste’s dad, and you had meetings with Celeste. That’s what you always called it when you two disappeared into the locker room, anyway: meetings. You were supposed to be watching me and Elle.”
I grit my teeth. The only thing I really remember from that last night is Celeste. How she felt, how she sounded, and then the whirlwind of rage from her father when he found us in the middle of it all.
“I remember every detail if you want me to remind you. At the time, I thought it was gross, but I’ve had time to learn different.” Sam gave me a knowing smirk. Then he sobers and sighs. “But it did give me a healthy sense of caution when it came to sex. Never fuck a girl if her dad’s in the next room.”
My neck heats, and my teeth grind together. Sam slips past me with his cleaning supplies and pats me on the shoulder on his way to the bathroom. “Don’t worry, dude. I’ve learned from all my older brothers’ mistakes, and you guys have made a lot.”
It takes me a few seconds to recover. My little brother might have slacked off so much he failed ninth grade, but he somehow manages almost perfect recall for the shit he actually pays attention to.
“Did you see her at all while I was away?” I’m a little ashamed by the eagerness that slips out and have to quash my disappointment when he shakes his head.
“Nah. Just Papá Flores every so often. He still owns the building. No idea why he’d slum it to come down here when his daughter stopped coming to dance classes ages ago. You’d think he has better things to do.”
My mental aversion to Celeste has returned though. I’m not interested in talking about her father’s habits. “Go up and get your sister so I can take you guys home.”
His expression clouds as fast as a freak thunderstorm. “Mom texted. She asked if we could crash with you tonight. I guess Dad’s in a mood.”
My jaw clenches along with my fists. I’m well acquainted with our father’s volatile mood swings. I check my phone’s screen for the time. Twelve thirty a.m. Way too late for me to call home to check in with Mom without making things worse. If she’s managed to calm the old man down, better to leave things be and check in with her first thing tomorrow.
Nodding, I push through the employees-only
