Chapter 7
Jameson
When the credits of the movie roll, I push out of my seat. Billy follows as the theater lights come on.
I know a guy who works here, and he lets me in for free, so I come by a lot. Probably more than I should. There’s something about being in a theater. No windows. No clocks. No talking. Nothing but the movie in front of you. You can just disappear. Escape.
If I don’t feel like being alone, I’ll bring Billy along with me, like I did tonight. He’s always so restless when he’s watching a movie, though, so I have to be in the mood to invite him.
He holds open the door for a couple of girls behind us, letting them step out into the night before we do. They both blush, leaning into each other and whispering something before peeking up at him.
“That one was good,” he says, waiting for the road to clear so we can cross the intersection.
I grunt in agreement.
“You’ve seen it before,” he says rather than asks.
“A few times,” I mutter.
The cars finally stop, and we quickly make it to the other side of the road. It’s a Thursday night, so it’s quiet, only a few places still open. The glow of streetlamps light our way as we take our time getting back to the garage.
We get a few blocks before Billy nudges me. “I’ve been waiting all night for you to bring her up.”
“Who?” I ask, playing dumb.
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t give me that bullshit. When I left last night, Marcus said you were stuck in the back room with the new kid’s sister.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say?”
“What’s she like?”
Interesting.
Beautiful.
Sad.
I shrug. “She’s cool.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yeah, why?” I ask defensively. “She can’t be cool?”
“Is she hot?”
My jaw ticks, and he smiles.
Why the fuck is he smiling?
“What?” I snap.
His smile turns smug. “You like her.”
“I just met her.”
“But you like her. Don’t you?” He shakes his head. “You don’t like anyone.” He pauses, looking over at me with a smirk. “Well, except for me, obviously.”
“Obviously,” I snort.
The humor leaves his voice. “Seriously, though.”
My shoulders drop. Billy is the only person in my life I talk to. I mean actually talk to.
“There’s something about her. I don’t know …”
“I’m excited to meet her.”
I scowl at him, and he laughs.
“Not like that.” Elbowing me, he adds. “You’ve clearly already called dibs.”
We round the corner that the garage is on, hearing music pour out into the street. The doors are open, and the lot is full.
Another one of my old man’s parties.
Billy slows next to me. “You good?”
I lock myself away, becoming what I need to be, and jerk my head in a nod.
“I hate what he makes you into,” Billy says so quietly I barely hear him over the music.
I push his words down, burying them, and walk forward.
My father isn’t hard to find. He’s always at the center of these things.
I step inside and see him sprawled out on the couch, my mother draped over him.
She’s wearing what I guess you could call a dress.
The tight red fabric looks like a second skin, and it’s so short all you can see are bare legs.
My father’s hand covers her thigh, like he wants to remind everyone she’s his.
She sees me coming up to them and turns toward me, dazed. I spot the drink in her hand, knowing she’s already drunk.
I wish I could bring her home. Get her away from here.
She leans into my father, and I quickly take in the people lounging by the couch, recognizing a few guys who always hang around, along with Luke, Marcus, and Sam’s brother, Johnny.
Before I can think better of it, a flash of excitement runs through me, thinking Sam might be here, too. I look around the room for her, coming up empty.
Good. She shouldn’t be here. It’s selfish of me to want her to be.
“There he is,” my father booms. “Fucking finally.”
Everyone turns to me, only Luke’s eyes finding Billy behind me. He gets up, and we trade places, putting me next to my father and him standing in front of Billy.
“Get my boy a drink,” my father says to some young guy I don’t know.
A minute later, a Solo cup is being pushed into my hand.
I throw it back before setting the cup down on the table in front of me.
My father watches me, eyes bright. “How’re you doing? You doing good?”
I force myself to keep my attention on him and not let it drift to my mother. “Good. Yeah, I’m good.”
He smiles, and my guard goes up.
What’s he so happy about?
His attention flits to Johnny, and I understand.
“Yesterday go good then?” I ask.
“Real good,” he says. “Great even. Big things are coming.”
I don’t ask, knowing this isn’t the place. I’m sure I’ll be filled in later.
My father tips his cup in Johnny’s direction. “Got ourselves a real one here.”
Johnny takes a step forward, coming up next to my chair. “Appreciate the chance.”
“I’m feeling generous,” my father says before looking over at me. “We got any party favors?”
I nod.
He slaps a hand on the couch. “Well, go get ’em. It’s a fucking party, isn’t it?”
I start to stand, but then I still when Luke warns, “Levi.”
My father looks up at him and snaps, “What?”
“It’s a school night.”
My father laughs. “It’s a school night? The fuck do I care?”
Luke glances at me, and my father follows his gaze.
“I can take him home,” Luke offers.
Yes, I wanna go home, but I know better than to think I’ll be able to.
“He is home,” my father says through gritted teeth. “I’m his home, and he’s with me. Isn’t he?”
Luke shakes his head. “He’s a kid, Levi—”
“That’s right,” my father interrupts, losing his patience. “He’s my kid, Luke, not yours.”
Luke looks over at me, and I can feel my father’s eyes on me, too. I’m standing between them, literally caught in the middle.
“If you wanna go home, Jameson, I’ll bring you home,” Luke tells me.
“What did I just fucking say?” my father growls.
I take a step away from Luke. “I’m fine here.”
“See?” my father sneers. “He’s fine. It’s a party. It’s fun. You don’t always have to be so fucking uptight.”
“We’re leaving,” Luke says, his voice strained. He nods toward the door. “Billy.”
Luke glances over his shoulder at me, and Billy mutters a goodbye.
I dip my chin but don’t say anything. Instead, I head for the back room to get what my father asked for.
When I return, the music has been turned up even louder, and my father’s head is pulled back in a laugh, Marcus sitting in the seat next to him.
I drop the stuff on the table, and Marcus leans forward greedily. He pours out some coke, cuts it into lines, and then rolls up a bill and snorts it. He gives a turn to whoever wants it, and I notice Johnny passes. My father notices, too.
I’ve never liked the idea of doing drugs.
I’ve seen firsthand what it can do to people.
How desperate it makes them. I’d never want something to have control over me like that.
The idea scares the shit out of me. So, I keep my distance from it.
But sometimes, when everyone’s watching like they are now, image has to win over fear.
The only thing worse than being weak is looking weak.
Taking the dollar bill, I drop to my knees and bend forward. I don’t have to look up to know my father is watching me. I snort the line, scrunching my nose at the burn, and run my fingers across it.
Marcus slaps my back, hooting and hollering about something. He glances over at Johnny. “You sure you don’t want some? It’s good quality shit.”
“It’s not my thing,” Johnny answers.
My father leans in, his hand sliding down my mother’s leg.
She reaches forward. “I’ll have some.”
Marcus looks to my father, who shakes his head. “She’s done.”
“But I—”
A glare from my father cuts her off.
She glances over at me.
“Don’t look at him,” my father snaps. “The answer is no.”
She pushes back into the couch with a pout.
My father turns his attention to Johnny. “It’s rude not to accept a gift,” he tells him.
My attention shifts between the two of them as I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly dry.
Johnny takes a sip of his beer, and I grab my empty cup, standing to go in search of some water.
“Don’t mean any disrespect.” he answers.
My father assesses him, but Johnny doesn’t waver.
“You’ve got balls, kid,” he says. “I’ll give you that.” He points at him, but turns to Marcus. “I like this one.”
I wonder if I would have gotten the same reaction if I refused.
I doubt it.
Slipping away, I finally find a drink and linger around the party, trying to avoid anyone’s attention. I’m jittery as fuck, and the music and people are only making it worse.
My father’s voice filters through the noise, and I eventually make my way back over to him. I’ve already been gone for at least an hour, and if I keep to myself much longer, he’ll just come looking for me.
“Where’s Big Jim?” he asks Marcus as I sit down beside him. “I thought I told you to tell him to come tonight.”
Marcus looks around, fidgeting. “I did.”
My father stares at him, waiting. When Marcus just stands there, he says, “Well, go find him.” He looks over at me. “I think it’s time Jameson here gets his first tattoo.”
Marcus returns not even five minutes later with Big Jim in tow. My father stands and grabs his hand, smacking him on the back. “Thanks for coming.”
“Of course,” Big Jim answers, his voice labored. He got the nickname for a reason, and it isn’t his height. He’s completely covered in tattoos, even his face. The guy looks scary as hell, but I’ve known him since I was a little kid. He’s actually really chill.
“Left my shit out in the car,” Big Jim says, starting for the door. My father has been getting his tattoos done by him forever. He owns a tattoo place downtown, but he usually comes to us.
A hand to his chest stops him. “Jameson will get it,” my father insists.
I take a step forward, and Big Jim smiles. “No shit, look at you. All grown and everything.”
“It hasn’t been that long,” I mutter.
“Ain’t seen you since before you really started fighting. You’re not a scrawny little kid anymore, are you?” He eyes me. “Heard you’re real good, too.”
“Course he is,” my father cuts in. “I’m training him myself. I’ll let you know when the next one is. You’ve gotta come out.”
Big Jim nods. “I’ll be there.” He tosses me his keys. “It’s the black pickup right out front. Stuff’s on the passenger seat.”
“Got it,” I answer, catching the keys.
I pass Johnny on my way to the door, and we silently acknowledge each other.
I want to ask him about Sam.
Where she is tonight.
If he’s gonna bring her back here.
If she’s said anything about me.
Instead, I keep walking.
She has no place in a life like mine.
Nobody does.
I grab the bags from Big Jim’s truck and carry them inside.
Setting them down, he tells me, “Your old man said you’re up first. You know what you want already?”
Growing up, I always knew I’d get tattoos. I’ve never asked my father for any, though. I guess I just figured he’d take me to get one someday. Apparently, that day is today.
I haven’t put a lot of thought into what I’d get, so I shake my head.
“I’ve got a book,” he says, opening one of the bags and handing it to me.
I flip through all the designs, looking for something that stands out while he gets ready. I find one I like and glance up, finding Marcus talking to my father, who has his arm around my mother, her body pulled into his side.
My father catches my eye and motions for me to join them. “You pick something?” he asks.
I nod, turning the book to show him the skull. “Gonna get it on my shoulder.”
Marcus whistles. “That’s tough.”
My father’s hand comes down on my back. “I like it.”
I turn toward my mother, waiting for her to say something.
She smiles, her eyes a bit more clear. “Very cool.”
“First tattoo,” my father says, pride in the words. He nods to where Big Jim is setting up. “Go on. I’ll come over with you in a minute.”
I take the book and turn to leave.
“Hold on,” my father calls out. “Give the book to Johnny.”
He walks over, and I hand it to him.
“You got any ink?” my father asks.
Johnny nods. “A couple.”
“Well, get another one.”
“I don’t—”
My father holds up a hand, silencing him. “You don’t gotta pay. It’s a perk of the job.”
“All right, thanks,” Johnny says, closing the book and starting from the front.
Big Jim comes over and says he’s all set up. I tell him what I want and wait as he draws it. Then I drop into the chair and let him prep my arm.
My father pulls up a seat, and my mother slides onto his lap, Marcus and Johnny coming to stand beside me.
Soon, the tattoo gun buzzes to life. It presses into my skin and, after a couple minutes, I relax into the pain. I close my eyes, and a sense of calm washes over me. I listen to everyone talk around me, my heartrate finally beginning to slow.
“Okay, kid, you’re done,” Big Jim says.
I blink my eyes open. How is he already finished?
“That was quick.”
He snorts. “Been over an hour.”
Really?
My father looms over me. “Let me see.”
I turn toward him.
His lips pull up. “That’s a good first piece.” Then motions toward the bathroom. “Go check it out.”
When I walk back into the room after seeing the tattoo for myself, Big Jim laughs. “I know that look,” he says. “You already want another one, don’t know.”
“That obvious, huh?”
He starts to wrap my shoulder. “Been doing this a long time,” he mutters. “And people who sit like you do,” He shakes his head. “They never stop coming back.”