Chapter 6
ZEKE
“Heading out!” I called up the stairs, as I got ready to leave for my tattoo repair.
Silence answered me from Josiah’s room where he was supposedly doing his homework.
Par for the course. I was still getting the silent treatment from him more often than not.
“Back in a few hours.” That got no reply either.
Ducking into the kitchen, I grabbed my keys off the counter. My arm itched under the taped gauze, but that was probably all in my head. Soon it would itch for a much better reason.
When I backed my truck out of the garage, I noticed Callum’s beater was parked on his grandfather’s driveway.
If he was home, it didn’t make sense to drive separately to the tattoo shop.
Unless he’d changed his mind about coming.
I didn’t actually need him to hold my hand and vouch for me, when I thought about it more logically without the emotion of that confession.
I put my truck in park and was about to text him when he came out of Roy’s front door and bounded off the porch. I powered down my window instead. “Hey, surprised to see you here.”
He came over and grimaced. “Apartment water damage. I’m staying with Grandpa for a bit.”
“Doing that annoying commute after all?” The Foxes’ arena was across the bridge in Surrey.
He shrugged. “It’s okay for now. I’ll figure something out.”
“Were you still thinking about coming to the tattoo parlor? You really don’t need to.”
“Well, yeah. I want to talk to River about my next tattoo.”
“Then ride with me. Silly to take two cars back and forth. Bad for the environment, too.”
He hesitated, then nodded, walked around, and got in beside me. “Sure. After two hours in the car this morning, I won’t object to someone else doing the driving. Especially in a truck with legroom.” He stretched those long, strong legs out with a sigh, his hockey thighs straining the denim—
I yanked my attention back and put the truck in gear. “I hope your guy has some inspiration for me. I doodled a few things, but art is not my forte.”
“River’s great. I’m sure he can help.”
“How bad is your apartment? How long are you out of the place?”
Callum shrugged. “Near as I can read between the lines of today’s update, something weakened a supporting beam. Part of the roof actually caved in.”
“Oh, was that your apartment on the news?” I’d seen an ariel shot of a collapsed roof on the local show that morning, a helicopter hovering over the building. “That looked bad.”
“Yeah. They were downplaying it at first, but that’s hard to do when the news choppers are up there taking pictures.”
“Did you lose a lot of stuff?”
“I don’t know. They haven’t let us back in yet. Hopefully not, since I’m on the second floor, but I’m lucky to have clothes and shit here at Grandpa’s. I feel bad for the families with all their kids’ stuff where they can’t get to it.”
“I bet.”
“If I had an NHL salary, I could help folks out.” He drummed his fingers on his knee, staring out the window.
I wasn’t exactly rolling in money either, but it kind of melted me that helping people was where that angry redheaded nine-year-old’s mind went as an adult.
I tried to change the subject. “Josiah’s decided he wants to be called Jos now.
” I was just as glad he’d waited till after Heidi was gone to let me know.
One extra fight we didn’t need to have, because Josiah had been Krystal’s father’s name.
“Well, go, Josiah. I mean Jos. That’s a better name anyhow.”
“The Ontario contingent of his relatives wouldn’t think so, but they’re gone, so who cares?”
He glanced at me. “He’s lucky to have you. Seriously. I know all about having relatives who don’t want you and relatives who do, after a parent dies.”
“Did you have— Sorry, that’s intrusive.”
“Nah, I brought it up.” He shifted in his seat.
“When my folks died, Mom’s family didn’t want to even come to the funeral, which was fine, because she came out here to get away from them in the first place.
My uncle Wayne is my dad’s younger brother but I was super lucky that my folks picked Grandpa in their will instead.
” His lips twisted as if tasting something sour.
“Uncle Wayne would’ve fucked me up for sure. ”
“Not your favourite person?”
“He was in and out of Grandpa’s throughout my childhood.
Mostly looking to borrow money and make trouble.
He’s in prison now for identity theft and fraud to support his gambling habit.
” Callum shook his head. “I’ve no idea how someone as great as Grandpa had one son just like himself in my dad, and one that’s such a loser.
Anyhow, I was a handful for Grandpa, and Jos may be for you, but he’s still super lucky you stepped up when you didn’t have to. ”
“He’s my brother. Of course I had to.”
“See? One of the good guys.”
I didn’t hate hearing that or the warm look he gave me, even for something that really hadn’t been a choice.
The tattoo parlor was only ten minutes’ drive. I glanced at the little store front labelled Tattrue Colours and didn’t think I winced, but Callum laughed. The humor transformed his face, and I couldn’t help staring. That man is gorgeous.
Luckily, he didn’t notice. “Ignore the name. River’s boss named the shop. Possibly while high. But I promise he does good work. Come on.” Callum jumped out of the truck and hurried toward the door.
I followed him, trying to ignore his incredible ass that strained the limit of those jeans. He pulled the glass door open and led me inside.
“Callum!” A tall, skinny man with a long blond ponytail and wire-rimmed glasses jumped up from the chair behind the counter.
He grabbed Callum’s hand and pulled him into a hug, which Callum first resisted, then sheepishly returned.
The man scrubbed a hand over Callum’s head, mussing up his hair.
“My favourite redhead.” He turned surprisingly penetrating eyes on me.
“And you must be my new client. Mr. Evans, yes? I’m River. ”
“Call me Zeke, please.” I shook the hand he held out. His grip was surprisingly strong, too, for a slender-armed, willowy guy in a flowing cream-and-pink shirt and six necklaces, but perhaps working with his hands all day built some muscles.
“You’re early, but my last client went faster than expected. I have some paperwork for you to sign, and then we can check out your little problem.”
I’d dropped Callum’s name when I called, and told him I had a cover-up I needed done, but not what. I was very willing to put that off a bit longer. “Sure.”
River pulled out a tablet. “Scan through that, initial where the blue boxes are, sign at the bottom.” He handed me a stylus. “And while he’s doing that, Callum, you can look at my sketches.”
I skimmed through the document, which was logical boilerplate about risks and consent and liability, while listening to them in the background. Callum seemed pleased with River’s work, if the murmurs of “Wow,” were sincere.
When I was done and pushed the tablet away, Callum waved me over. River’s designs were drawn on paper, and Callum had two side by side. “What do you think?” he asked.
Both were images of some kind of bird that looked like a cross between a hawk and a songbird, in one drawing perched on a stump with wings outstretched, the other in flight with mountains suggested in the background.
“It’s a kestrel,” Callum said. “My dad’s favourite bird. They’re not as common out here on the coast, and if we saw one, he’d always point it out.”
“I’m not going to tell you what ink to get on your body,” I told him. “Those are both great.”
He tilted his head, looking back and forth, then lifted his shirt to peer at his dolphin tattoo. I couldn’t help looking too. Not so much at the tattoo. After a moment, he dropped the hem and said, “The one with the mountains matches better.”
“You got it.” River stacked the other sketches and set that one aside. “Make an appointment and we’ll get it done.”
“Not today?” I asked, a bit disappointed. I wouldn’t have minded seeing Callum get worked on.
“Not unless the guy after you no-shows,” River said.
“I need to get together the cash, anyhow,” Callum added.
River turned to me. “Now what about yours? What are we working with. It would’ve been easier if you’d sent me a picture in advance.”
“Uh. Yeah. About that.” I held out my arm and peeled the tape off my skin.
“Oh.” River went still, looking down at my tattoo.
“It’s not what you think,” Callum jumped in. “He was working undercover, and it was part of his disguise.”
“Really?” River raised his gaze and I read cool skepticism. “You know, I’m all in favour of people seeing the light. If they really have.”
“I’m gay,” I told him. “And I’ve never been that self-hating, even in my darkest moments.
I can show you my badge. That tattoo might’ve saved my life once.
” Or at least helped. As the skinhead played around with his Sig Saur, his finger on the trigger, his cold eyes on me, I’d raised my arm, brushing up my sleeve casually.
I don’t know how much the tattoo had done to confirm my identity, but he’d looked at it and a minute later, he’d holstered the weapon.
I wasn’t sorry I’d worn it then. I controlled a shudder.
River raised an eyebrow at my hair where my own skinhead was starting to grow out.
“Hey!” Callum said. “Don’t you fucking believe me? I’ve known Zeke since I was nine. He’s one of the good guys.”
“It’s okay,” I told him, though I appreciated his quick defense. “I know how it looks. That’s why I need the cover-up.”
“All right.” River nodded. “Whatever the cause, I am all in favour of inking that ugly right out of existence. I could take some time, talk to you and mock up some good personal options. Probably wouldn’t have enough appointment left to finish the ink today, though.”