Page 4 of Turning Tides
“When is Cy not worried about me?”
Marshall had the decency to look like he agreed with me. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of bills. “At least stop by The Anchor tonight. I know he’ll try to feed you for free, and I know you’ll insist on paying, even though Shane wouldn’t care. Have a drink on me. Eat with your brother. He loves you.”
Marshall couldn’t have dumped more guilt on me if he tried. I’d yet to be by Cy’s job because I knew him. Food was his love language and he’d try to shovel as much into me as he could. If he couldn’t heal the cracks in me, he’d fill them with hamburgers.
Sighing, I took the money from Marshall and tucked it into my pocket. “Fine. When’s his dinner break?”
Marshall laughed and popped a fresh coffee pod into the machine. “His break is whenever he wants it. Shane might sign the paychecks, but the kitchen is Cy’s territory. Shane could try to tell him what to do, but at his own risk.”
Cyrus was a demon in the kitchen. Which was why I tried to avoid any kitchen Cyrus was working in.
“I don’t see what good having dinner with him will do.”
Complaining about shit was part of my DNA. If I didn’t bitch about things, I’d probably blow up. But Marshall didn’t appreciate that about me sometimes. For as easygoing as he could be, he turned into a bulldog when it came to looking out for my brother. Which was the only reason he wasn’t on my list of people to turn into shark bait.
“You’re barely here. He never sees you. By the time he gets home, you’re out cold, and when he’s awake, you’re skulking around town filling sketchbooks.”
“I do not skulk.”
Marshall folded his arms over his chest and stared at me. He didn’t say anything because the fucker didn’t have to. Iwasskulking. Pouting. Getting wrapped up in my own bullshit head and avoiding everything and everyone as much as possible. Shit.
“Fine, so I’m skulking.” I deflated and Marshall reached out and ruffled his fingers through my hair. “Tell Cy that I’ve magically turned a corner and will at least put my skulking on hold to have dinner with him tonight.”
I dumped my coffee into a travel mug and thumped the lid on. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment with the squirrels.”
“Squirrels?”
“Yeah, in the park. Big fuckers. I swear they’re like the body builders of squirrels. I named them Arnold and The Rock. Arnie and Rocky for short.” With my coffee in hand, I retreated to the living room to grab the messenger bag I carried with me all the time with my sketchbooks and art supplies in it. An emergency twenty, a lighter—because you never knew when you were going to need one—and a small first aid kit for similar reasons. It was less of a first aid kit and more of a plastic baggie with some gauze and a handful of bandaids stuffed in it.
Marshall met me at the door as I tried to slip away. Without asking first, he shoved a handful of granola bars into my hands. “The best time to catch Cy at work is before the dinner rush, or after it’s over.”
Nodding, I slipped out of the house, grateful that Marshall let me go without further harassment. I mean, the audacity of him, looking out for my brother like that. How dare he call me on my skulking?
Making Cy worry wasn’t my intention. I’d wanted their lives to be disrupted as little as possible. It wasn’t their fault that my life had gone sideways and I didn’t see why they should have to suffer for it. Besides, I liked wandering around drawing things. It started to grow on me and I liked the effect it was having on my art.
My work was a true extension of myself. Unless I was designing something for a customer, I poured myself into my art. My whole heart, my soul. My fears and excitement all went into it. When I lost everything, my art had gone dark. Broody. Angry. Thick lines and morbid imagery. Anger and sadness were best friends and much of my time spent skulking was also spent pouring my heart out into work that I’d never show anyone.
I drew a lot of hands. Clenched fists. Broken fingernails. Fingers gripping onto rocky ledges, searching for purchase, hanging on by a thread above the abyss below.
It was the squirrels that made me turn a corner. My art went from a sad, desperate sort of realism, to cartoonish ridiculousness. I dabbled in comic style from time to time, but most people didn’t want that kind of tattoo. But now, with my shop closed and my life in storage, I had freedom to explore my art again.
In my cartoon, Arnie and Rocky were mortal enemies, fighting over the last of the season’s nuts. It wasn’t going to win awards for originality, but it lifted my spirits. I didn’t want to be a small, angry man. Rage was exhausting and I’d spent enough energy on my former friend. Now I wanted to move on. As soon as I figured out how.
Talking to Cyrus would have to be step number one. He’d been great about the whole thing. I knew I was putting a cramp in their lifestyle. The sooner I had a plan, the better for everyone.
After spending my morning in the park, I spent my afternoon in the library. Now that I’d exhausted my avenues when it came to renting a chair from another shop or opening my own, I had to be realistic. Money didn’t grow on trees. I tried not to think of looking for other jobs as a failure. It was a simple setback. Okay, a catastrophic setback. But I’d made my dreams come true once—I could do it again.
Chapter 3
Shane
My bartender, Mickey, wasat the other end of the bar, laughing and talking and pouring drinks like he’d been doing this gig for years instead of months. I met Mickey when he’d been busy putting his life back together. I gave him a job and rented him the unit upstairs, even though he’d been staying with Ethan Bennett at the time.
Mickey looked a million times better than when I met him. Putting on some weight had made him look healthier and he no longer resembled a half-starved stray kitten. Being with Ethan made him happier too. Mickey had recently moved out of the upstairs unit and in with his rescuer turned boyfriend.
I sidled up next to Mickey, who was also between customers. Tuesday nights were always slow, but the perks of having more money than brains was being able to do shit like not cut your staff’s hours. Kieran gave me shit for it from time to time, but then I quickly reminded him of all the money he was able to make me with his stock market magic and he shut up.
“Hey, Mickey. How’s married life treating you?”
