Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
WIL
Sam meets me at Adventure Zone, an enormous building across the freeway from the Woodlake store with a bowling alley, climbing wall, laser tag, arcade, you name it, for an afternoon of fun with our Hometown League buddies.
Hanging out with these kids is both a wild ride and a lesson in gratitude.
It’s hard to be in a bad mood around them.
Usually.
Today, Sam and I are bowling with Liam and Charming.
“What’s your problem, man?” Liam asks after I knock down only five pins. “You suck today. Charming’s gonna beat us all, and he’s in a damn wheelchair!”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I say.
“Oh, yeah?” Charming says. “This got anything to do with your chouchou at the store?”
“My what?”
“Chouchou. You know, your sweetheart. Your lady-friend. What’s her name? Abbey?”
“Good memory.” Sam steps up to the approach with his ball.
“She’s not my chouchou,” I grumble.
“Why, you screw it up?”
In a manner of speaking, yes. Yes, I did, Charming.
“Ooh, Wil’s got a lady-friend!” Liam sing-songs.
“Zip it and get ready to bowl, kid.”
Andre finds me later as I’m returning my bowling shoes. “Hey, how’ve you been?” he asks. “I haven’t seen you since Phoenix.”
I grunt in response.
“Kelsey feels pretty bad about what happened.”
“Oh, does she?”
“Yeah, man, seriously.”
“Must be the hormones. How are things at the League?” As much as I’m irritated with my sister, I’ve always liked Andre, and he’s innocent in all this.
“Really good. Looks like we’ll be able to add Boston in the next fiscal year, so I’m flying out to scout locations. And the board approved the community relations position.” He clears his throat. “You know, the one I told you about.”
The attendant hands me my Chuck Taylors. “That’s great. I hope they find someone who’s a good fit.” I move to the bench to put on my shoes and Andre doesn’t follow.
After a round of mini-golf and pizza with Liam and Charming, Sam and I make the most of our afternoon away from the store and stop by Ground Round for a beer.
“You’re in a foul mood,” he says. “Not surprised, I guess.”
I ignore this. “How’s… uh… everyone doing at Woodlake?”
“Oh, no,” he says. “Don’t try to pull that crap with me. If you want to know how Abbey’s doing, ask me how Abbey’s doing.”
“Fine.” I take a drink of my beer. “How’s Abbey doing?
“She’s miserable, which seems to make her work even harder.”
That doesn’t surprise me. “You should tell her I’m not worth being miserable over.”
“Wow, Jaws. You know it’s not just about you, right? She’s been turned down for every assistant manager position she’s applied for, and one of her applications actually disappeared out of the system.”
“That’s impossible.” I furrow my brow.
“It happened. She feels stuck, and I don’t blame her. Not everyone is happy to stay a team captain like me. She told me the other day that she started looking for newspaper jobs again.”
Good for her. She deserves to work in a job that makes her happy. “Good. That’s good.”
“Jeff stopped in the other day, too. He’s giving Century a hard time.”
“Of course he fucking is,” I mutter.
“He been giving you any trouble over at Ridge?”
“Of course he fucking has.”
Sam sighs. “Look, can I be honest with you? As your friend, not your coworker?”
I wave my hand in a by all means gesture.
“Jaws, your father is one of the worst people I’ve ever met. He doesn’t care about people’s feelings, not even yours. Especially not yours. He only sees dollar signs. He’s like that Disney character, Scrooge McDuck. He’s awful.”
“What’s your point?”
“I’ve always kind of worried about you, you know, turning out like him.”
“Oh, fuck off, Sam. I’m not like him, and you know it.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, probably not. But here’s the thing, and I hate to be the one to tell you this… but you’re well on your way to ending up like him, in more than name.”
“Wait a—”
“Let me finish. You know more about running a store than anyone I’ve ever worked with, and I’ve worked with a lot of good managers. But you—it’s different with you. This is your family. Your legacy. And it’s like you’ve always got something to prove.”
“Well, I kind of do, don’t I? At any moment, Jeff can play god and sweep me off the playing board.”
“Would that be the worst thing?” He throws a handful of popcorn in his mouth.
“What do you mean?”
“What about the nonprofit?”
I groan. “Not you, too. Andre brought it up today.”
“And? What did he say?”
“The board approved a new position. Community relations.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Are you going to apply?”
“Sam, I’m this close to getting my own store. Why would I apply for a job at the nonprofit?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’re miserable at the store and you aren’t a complete asshole when you’re volunteering with the nonprofit?
Maybe because it might make you happy?” When I don’t respond, Sam says in a low, quiet voice, “Like I said, if you’re not careful, you’ll end up just like him. ”
It’s too late, I think. My heart’s a blackened, impenetrable shell of what it once was.
Four years with Candy, and when it ended, I didn’t feel as broken as I do now after only one night with Abbey.
One perfect night that blurred into the next day after all those months we wasted not being together.
“Think about it, Jaws. And maybe, if you figure out if you’re really meant to stay at Hometown Electronics, you’ll be able to figure things out with Abbey, too.”
I drain the rest of my beer. Part of me wants to tell him that it’s not that easy but there’s another part of me, a tiny glimmer of hope, that wonders if it is.
On the drive home, because I like to torture myself, I slide the Abbey Road CD into my car stereo. I drive around for the time it takes to listen to it three times, and then, when I’m almost home, turn toward downtown Minneapolis, to the tattoo place where I’ve gotten all my work done.
My regular guy, Jack, happens to be working tonight. He’s a short, stocky white guy, his limbs and bald head covered with art. He’s wearing a Metallica Master of Puppets T-shirt, and I almost laugh at how fitting that is.
“Wil, my man,” he says. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Can you fit me in?”
“Yeah, man, I’ve got somebody in the chair right now, but I’ll be done in, like, fifteen. Cool?”
I sit in the small waiting area and stare out at the busy downtown Minneapolis street.
From here, I can see only the n of the marquee sign for The Golden.
The place where it all began. Abbey’s all I can think about.
The lipstick on her cup and that wide smile.
Her claw clips and those wild buns. The CDs she sets aside to buy later as she sorts cycle.
That dress on New Year’s Eve. The feel of her soft skin under my lips.
It makes my chest ache.
Jack and his customer step out from the back room and the woman pays.
She’s got dark hair like Abbey’s, and my heart stutters.
But when she turns, she looks nothing like her: cat-eye glasses, deep red lipstick, piercings in her eyebrow, her septum, her lip.
She smiles at me as she walks out the door. She’s beautiful, but she’s not Abbey.
Once Jack’s cleaned up his workstation, he brings me back to the room where I’ve sat for all my tattoos. “What are we doing?” he asks. “I gotta say, I’m surprised to see you just show up like this. You usually give me a few days’ notice, at least.”
“I couldn’t wait.”
“Hit me.”
I run my hand along the inside of my left forearm. “Here.” I describe what I want, and he nods.
“Cool. Very on brand,” he says. He disappears into the little room where the magic really happens. He nails the design on the first go.
An hour in, I ask, “Did you always know this is what you wanted to do for a living?”
He huffs out a laugh. “Nah. I never even took an art class until I went to college.”
“What did you go to school for?”
“Pre-law. I thought I’d be a labor attorney like my dad. But something clicked in that art class, I changed my major, and here we are.”
“Was your dad pissed?”
“Not at all. He was proud of me. Turns out he didn’t much like labor law. You see all these photographs behind me?”
I look over his shoulder at the framed landscapes, portraits, and close-ups of tattoos.
“Those are his. He retired early and took up photography. Said if he could do it all over again, he wouldn’t have gone to law school. And you want to know what else? He said I inspired him to make the change.”
“That’s—that’s awesome,” I manage. What must it be like to not only have a parent who supports your decisions but is proud of you, too?
“Yeah, I’m lucky.”
“Are you happy?” I’m not embarrassed to ask and he doesn’t react like it’s weird that I’m asking.
“This is the best fucking job in the world, man. I’m happy and the people I ink are usually happy, too.” After a pause, he says, “We all gotta follow our dreams or what’s the point? And if you don’t know what your dream is, you gotta find out.”
I watch as he marks my skin. I don’t feel happy tonight. Far from it. But no matter what happens next, I’ll always have this tattoo.
I’m scheduled to close the next night, and I go in a few minutes early to catch up on emails.
So far, my AGM rotation has been… mediocre.
I learned more by watching Jeremy than I have from Dino, the GM here, who’s supposed to be training me.
I think he must realize that, too, because he’s phoning it in and dumping a lot of his work on me.
I just need to get through the next few months, and then I’ll have my own store.
I run my hand against the small flecks of peeling skin on my new tattoo. I think about Jack and his dad. What Jack said: We all gotta follow our dreams, or what’s the point?
What’s the point?