Page 12 of Turn

CHAPTER FIVE

By my second week working for the Gentrys I was starting to feel pretty good about the situation. My bosses had high expectations but they were fair and willing to invest the resources for training.

And that wasn’t the only good news.

Tristan had gotten a job stocking shelves at a convenience store. He’d been home before dark the last few days, looking tired but satisfied, and the fact that he didn’t give me a moment of grief made me hope this rebellious phase was fizzling out. Plus Brecken had mentioned making some new friends and that was no easy chore for a shy thirteen-year-old boy.

After I dropped Brecken off at school I stopped at a gas station to search for a cheap lunch to bring with me to work. As I scanned the hot food section I was struck by a thought that had been on my mind a lot lately. This was the first time in my life I really knew what it meant to pinch pennies, to make do with less than what I needed. Our family had never lived like kings in Emblem, especially after my dad died, but there was enough. And then once I was jumped into the gang I always had more money than I needed spilling out of my pockets, usually acquired by doing things I couldn’t do anymore now that my brothers were depending on me.

But as I picked a half frozen burrito off the food heater and carried it to the counter I couldn’t deny that sometimes I thought about how much easier things would be if I slid back into old profitable habits. I’d permanently severed those links without a second thought the day I received a tearful two a.m. call from my mother but I could think of a few ways to make contact and find something far more lucrative. All it would take was a phone call or two.

“Three oh seven,” said the cashier in a monotone. She had the kind of puckered mouth that meant there were probably no teeth on the other side. I handed her a ten and carefully pocketed the change when she handed it over. Even the pennies.

No, I wouldn’t be making any phone calls. There was a hell of a lot more at stake now than my own future. My brothers had no one else but me and I’d gouge out my own eyeballs before I’d do a thing to risk having them end up in the system, alone and unloved.

“You need a bag, sir?” the cashier asked with a wheeze.

“No thanks.” I grabbed a few napkins from the dispenser and moved aside so I would stop taking up space at her counter. My pace quickened after I glanced at the time and realized that I might be late for work if I didn’t step it up.

My phone rang the second I stuck the key in the car’s ignition and I debated ignoring it but worried there might be something up with the boys.

The caller ID said ‘Unknown’ and it might have been just some asshole telemarketer. Except I knew it wasn’t. She had yet to utter a word on these calls but I had no doubt she was on the other end. Probably lounging on a beach somewhere south of the border and wondering if any of us would ever forgive her. I hadn’t. That was why I never broke the silence.

“I won’t make it there, Curtis. I won’t make it in prison.”

“You will. People do it every day.”

“Not me. I can’t.”

This time I didn’t listen to the silence for very long. Before I ended the call I thought I heard the sound of a muffled sob. That didn’t bother me. She should cry after what she did.

The phone calls always came out of the blue and always caught me off guard. I gritted my teeth, trying to stifle the urge to floor the accelerator and drive fast and angry all the way to Scratch. I was still tense when I pulled into the parking lot and took a few calming breaths before cutting the engine.

The sight of the quirky tattoo parlor cheered me up a little. So far this seemed like a good place, filled with decent, hardworking people and I felt lucky to have found a job here.

The friendly receptionist wasn’t at the front desk and that’s when I remembered yesterday had been her last day. I’d heard from Zach, one of the ink artists, that her temporary replacement would be Cord Gentry’s daughter. The news didn’t really interest me. I was here to work, not socialize. I think I grunted some acknowledgement and continued sweeping the push broom across the floor but Zach saw fit to arch a pierced eyebrow and make some dumbass comment like, “You can look, Mulligan, but don’t touch. On second thought, don’t even look. Cord is crazy protective of his girls.”

I had said, “Thanks for the intel,” just to get him to shut up. But privately I was thinking that I wouldn’t dare mess with the boss’s daughter even if she had magic tits.

Cord’s daughter was apparently unconcerned about getting an early start on the day because there was no sign of her. In a way that was a relief because I’d met a bunch of new people here lately and it was a little early in the day to add another one. I headed for the break room to get a quick cup of coffee and stow my lunch in the fridge.

Apparently I was the only one in the building who brought lunch because the fridge was almost empty every time I looked in there. Of course there were a million better eating options within a mile, especially since we were so close to the university, but I didn’t want to waste the money. I set my lunch on the middle shelf in the back of the fridge, keeping it out of the way just in case someone did need the space.

There was always a pot of coffee available and I’d been told to help myself to any of the assorted ceramic mugs that lined the shelf above. The break room hadn’t been spared from the artistic vibe that existed throughout Scratch. The walls were painted a deep purple and decorated with a variety of framed sketches. I sipped from a coffee cup and took a moment to gaze at a sketched profile of a young woman with long wavy hair and a red rose over her ear.

The deep sound of a throat clearing made me turn my head toward the doorway. Deck Gentry was leaning against the wall and watching me. He grinned.

“How’s the job going?”

“Great,” I said, reaching out to meet his fist bump. “Thanks again for the opportunity.”

Deck was amused. “You already thanked me six times.”

I set my coffee cup down. “I wanted to be sure I got the message across. Look, I know my resume is not, ah…”

Deck waved a hand to cut me off. “That’s all history, man. We appreciate the fact that you want to wipe the slate clean.”

“Well, I appreciate that you gave me the chance to do it.”

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