by Nicole James
Her eyes got big, and she pointed to herself.
He nodded.
Max ignored the broken glass, too consumed with speaking to this beautiful girl. “Ask her if I make her nervous?”
Liam signed to her, laughing and making symbols that had Max thinking his brother was calling him a big gorilla. The girl giggled and blushed, and then she shrugged and held up two fingers about an inch apart.
He smiled, understanding that sign, and asked, “Why?”
She made a motion with her hands, like she was trying to wrap them around a large bowl, and then pointed to his bicep. “Big,” she tried to say the word that seemed foreign to her mouth.
He took her hand gently in his and brought it to his muscle revealed by his short-sleeved shirt. He smiled at her as her eyes got huge as she touched his skin, and suddenly she pulled back, embarrassed, and he was left wondering if she hadn’t touched a man before.
Then suddenly, she backed up a step. She dipped her head down, her eyes looking up from under her brow. Then she turned and dashed out of the shop.
Max followed to the window, watching her hurry down the street. “She was beautiful, wasn’t she?”
Rory walked up, taking in the glass on the floor and Max staring out the window, then turned to Liam. “What’s he looking at?”
Liam grinned huge. “Big brother is in love.”
“Say what?”
“I just saw it happen, right before my eyes. He fell hard.”
Max swiveled his head back. “She’s pretty is all I said. Don’t make a thing out of it.”
“Yeah, right. Why do I suddenly feel like there’s a lot of Thai food in our future?”
Max shoved his shoulder as he walked past him toward the back. “Speaking of… Clean up the glass and maybe I’ll let you have some of it.”
“Me? I didn’t break the damn bowl, you did!”
Max laughed and kept walking.
***
Malee turned and glanced back at the tattoo shop, studying the name. Brothers Ink. She’d never been there before. She’d lied to the man when she’d said her brother was sick, and her father had sent her. Her father rarely let her out of the restaurant, preferring to keep her back in the kitchen, like her deafness somehow made her flawed and she should be hidden away. Her mother said he was just being protective of her, but sometimes she wondered if he wasn’t ashamed of her disability. She wasn’t perfect like her brother, who could do no wrong in their father’s eyes.
She glanced back at the shop. She wasn’t supposed to make that lunch delivery. She’d grabbed it and ran out the door while her brother was busy, glad to escape the confines of the restaurant, even if it was only for a few minutes. Her father may beat her for her disobedience when she returned, but it had been worth it. She’d never seen art like that before. All the colors and designs had taken her breath away. She’d been fascinated. Tonight, in her room, she’d pull out her hidden sketchpad and colored pencils and try to duplicate the beautiful designs.
Her mind turned from the art she’d seen in the shop to the big man who’d spoken to her. Max, he’d said his name was. Tonight, when she was alone in her room, in addition to her drawing, she’d also practice saying his name out loud until she got it just right, so if she ever got the chance to run into him again, she could say hello to him, and he wouldn’t think she sounded funny.
She knew her lack of hearing distorted her voice and didn’t sound exactly like other people. But it was hard to form the words correctly, when you couldn’t hear how they came out.
Her mother wanted her to get an implant that the doctor said would help her to hear, but her father forbid it, saying it was too risky and too expensive.
Her eyes again strayed back to the tattoo shop as she stood on the corner in the rain, waiting for the light to change. She’d seen that man before—Max. She’d seen him in the gym on Fourth Street where her brother took martial arts classes. MMA, they called it; Mixed Martial Arts. She’d seen Max in there working out on the bag. He had powerful arms, and she’d been mesmerized watching him. She wasn’t supposed to go there either, but sometimes she’d sneak down there when her brother went and watch through the big storefront windows. No one ever noticed her. She made sure to stand off to the side, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.
And now she knew where the big man with the powerful arms worked. Brothers Ink. She smiled a secret smile as she jogged back toward her parents’ restaurant, happy for the first time in a long time.
Chapter Two
Max and Liam sat in the break room. Liam was flipping through this month’s copy of Inked Up magazine, and Max was drinking an energy drink when Rory walked in to grab a drink out of the refrigerator.
“Hey, Rory,” Liam said, not looking up from his magazine.
“Yeah?”
“Keller’s is having a sale on guitars.”
“Yeah?”
“You buy one, they’ll throw in free lessons.”
Max laughed, and Rory flipped Liam off as he walked back out.
“Why do you constantly antagonize him?” Max asked.
Liam grinned. “Why, you jealous?”
Jameson walked in and collapsed into a chair.
“They’ve got handbooks for everything these days. I know because I just spent the last two hours in the bookstore with Ava. Handbooks for names, handbooks for pregnancy, handbooks for motherhood, handbooks for fatherhood, handbooks for smart babies, handbooks for city babies…”
Liam glanced up from his magazine. “Livin’ the dream, huh?”
“Shoot me now.”
“Where is she?” Max asked.
“Up front, talking to Rory.”
A minute later, Ava walked in with a bookstore bag in one hand and a twin-pack of muffins in the other.
“How are you doing, sweetheart?” Max asked as she sat down.
“I’m doing well. Just starving.”
Jameson looked over as she unwrapped the package. “You gonna share?”
She took a big bite of one. “Nope.”
“There are two huge ones. Are you sure you need to eat all that?”
She glared at him with a look that promised to go nuclear. “Are you calling me fat?”
Even Liam looked up from his magazine at that comment. “Oh, dude, you just hit the button that launched all the missiles.”
She stood up and stomped out of the room.
Jameson called after her. “Baby, I’m sorry. You know I get cranky when I’m hungry.”
“He’s never gonna dig himself out of that hole,” Liam murmured.
“Yeah, there’s no handbook for that,” Max put in with a grin.
“What, you don’t think she’s gonna forgive me?” Jameson asked.
Liam continued flipping pages. “Maybe in a parallel universe. Where you aren’t a dick.”
Max tried to stifle his laughter. “I’ll go talk to her. Smooth things over for you.”
“Thanks, man. I’m exhausted, and you always did have a way with calming her shit down.”
Max winked. “You’re not the only one with special skills, superstar.”
He found Ava sitting on the big couch in the lobby, eating her muffins and quietly fuming. He sat down next to her and patted her knee. “You know he didn’t mean it. You’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. He’s just tired and irritable.”
“He’s always tired and irritable. I’m the one carrying this baby.”
“I know, but he’s been working long hours on the house, trying to get it finished in time, plus his work here.”
She dropped the hand holding the muffin to her lap. “I know. You’re right. I’m just so emotional right now.”
Max grinned at her. “Well, don’t let him off the hook. Make sure he makes it up to you tonight. That rates at least a foot massage or a back rub.”
She slouched back against the cushions, closing her eyes. “Oh God, Max. What I wouldn’t give for a foot massage right now.”
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br /> “Your wish, my lady.” He pulled her foot up on his leg, turning her sideways on the couch as he slipped her shoe off. “Babe, you think you should still be wearing these high heels?”
“I’ve given up everything for this baby, Max. I’m not giving up my heels, too.”
Max grinned. “Okay, Ava.” He rubbed her foot, pressing his thumbs into the arch until she moaned.
“My God, that feels great. Why aren’t you married, Max? If the ladies knew you had this skill, they’d be lining up out the door.”
He chuckled. “If you say so.”
After a few minutes, she rolled her head on the cushion and looked at him. “Are you happy here, Max?”
He turned his head to look at her. “Sure, I guess.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He shrugged. “I’ll never be as good as Jameson, but I get by.”
“Is there something else you’d like to do? Did Jameson twist your arm into a career you didn’t want?”
“Not at all. I enjoy working here, but…”
“But what?”
“For Jameson this is his passion, but for me… it’s just a job.”
“And what’s your passion, Max?”
“I thought about MMA fighting at one point but that ship has sailed. For the longest time I didn’t think I was good enough, and I let that hold me back. I’m too old now. You gotta be a kid for that. Now? I don’t know.”
“Max.” She leaned forward, touching his arm. “Don’t ever let feelings of inadequacy keep you from going for your dream. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you aren’t good enough to have what you want. And don’t let negative thoughts stand in the way of getting it.”
“Guess that worked out for you, huh?”
“It did. I have everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“I’m happy for you, girl, for you and Jameson, both. So, don’t be too hard on him tonight, okay?”
“Well, since you just gave me a fabulous foot massage, how can I tell you no?”
“You can’t. That’s part of my charm.”
She laughed, but then touched his arm again. “Max, seriously, if there’s something more out of life that you find you want, don’t wait for ‘someday’ to make it happen. If you do, ‘someday’ will never come.”
Chapter Three
Malee carried a tub of dishes she’d bussed from a table in the restaurant dining room to the kitchen. Once again, a customer had grabbed her arm, trying to ask her for something. It happened at least once a week. It was frustrating because she couldn’t understand them, and they couldn’t understand why she didn’t respond. This one had gotten mad and shoved past her, almost knocking her down. It was scary—the way he’d grabbed her.
Her father always told her never let the customers know she was deaf. He told her it was for her own safety; he didn’t want any of them to follow her in town, targeting her due to her disability and using it as a weakness against her. She was a pretty girl, her father told her, and she must guard against men with bad intentions who may prey upon her.
She thought he worried too much, but every once in a while, like today, a man would scare her into believing he might be right, that it was something she should be on guard against.
Malee set the tub down in the kitchen and turned, plowing right into her brother, Kiet, who was carrying two plates of food that crashed to the floor. They both quickly bent to pick up the pieces, and she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Kiet signed to her. It’s okay. It’s my fault. I wasn’t looking.
He glanced at their father, and she followed his gaze. Her father was shaking his head, grabbing another plate and dishing up another entrée. Malee knew he was probably muttering under his breath about how much money he’d just lost.
Her eyes met Kiet’s and glazed over with tears. He squeezed her arm and signed, It’s okay. Don’t worry. I’ll clean this up.
Malee dashed up the backstairs to throw herself on her bed, crying into her pillow. Sometimes she hated her life.
Chapter Four
Max walked through the back door of the old building on Fourth Street. The painted sign on the brick said Fourth Street Gym, but everybody called it Pops’ Gym. Pops was the cantankerous old man who owned the joint and held a very special place in Max’s heart. If it hadn’t been for the old man, Max would have probably headed down the wrong road as a teenager. It had been Pops who had taken the time with him, and given him a direction and goal, way before Jameson had opened up the tattoo shop—long before Brothers Ink became the glue that held them all together. No, back then, it was Pops who was the guiding hand that steered Max in the right direction.
Pops had come into his life at a time when Max had just lost both his parents in a tragic car accident. Suddenly, it was the four brothers all alone in this world. They had no one but each other. Jameson, who was just eighteen at the time and was supposed to head off to college that fall, had immediately given up all of that and stepped up, fighting tooth and nail against the legal system to keep his brothers from being split into different foster homes. He made sure the family stayed together. He’d worked his ass off, shoveling feed at Ryerson’s Feed Store all day, then apprenticing at night with a local tattoo artist until he was able to learn the craft, hoping it would be a marketable skill with which he could support his brothers.
Max, being the second oldest at fifteen, did his part as well, making sure the two younger boys—Liam who was ten and Rory who was seven—were taken care of while Jameson worked. Max helped them with their homework, cooked them dinner, and put them to bed.
But in his free time, he had plenty of opportunity to get into trouble. At fifteen, it was easy to rebel against all that responsibility, especially with the anger that brewed inside him over losing his parents. Life wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard. He’d been tempted by the wrong crowd, tempted to take up petty theft—five-finger-discounts, they called them. He and some other rowdy boys from town got into their fair share of scraps, too, fighting openly in the back alleys of downtown. Until one day, Pops saw them and broke the fight up. He told the boys if they wanted to beat each other to a pulp, they’d might as well come inside and do it in his gym.
They took him up on his offer, and everything changed for Max that day.
Slowly, but surely, Pops’ brand of tough love seeped into the edges of Max’s hardened heart. Through the art of boxing, the old man taught him respect, discipline, how to rise above failure, and that working hard toward a goal made it that much sweeter when you finally achieved it.
He gave Max simpler things, too, like a place to go after school, and a place to hang out other than the street. He gave him attention, something Max craved, and he gave him a strong adult role model… Not that Jameson didn’t strive to be one, but he was barely older than Max was himself.
The old metal door banged closed behind him as he entered the dark cool gym, and the familiar smell of stale sweat hit his nostrils, shaking him from his memories. Max glanced over to the teenage boys taking a mixed martial arts class. That wasn’t part of the offerings at Pops’ back in Max’s day. Back then they’d learned boxing. But last year, Max had talked Pops into giving it a chance and hiring a guy to teach a few classes. It had turned into a success. Then Max had talked Pops into giving the boys off the street free classes over the summer, a time Max knew when idle hands could get a boy into trouble. There’d been quite a response, and now some of those same boys were so hooked on the sport, they worked afterschool jobs in order to pay their way for advanced classes.
Max moved to the metal staircase in the back and headed up to the small office Pops kept on the second floor. He pushed open the door without knocking. The old man was kicked back in his chair, dozing.
Max grinned. “Go home, Pops. I’ll lock up.”
Pops startled awake. “Huh. Oh, Max.” He ran a hand over his face. “I was just resting my eyes.”
Max chuckled. “Right. Go on hom
e to Eleanor.”
He looked at the time. “Gotta close the place up. They should be done soon.”
“I can take care of it. Go home and get some rest.”
Pops nodded and stood, pulling his jacket on, his motions slow.
The old man looked tired, his age showing more and more recently. And Max knew the reason. “How is she?”
Pops looked off at the small window as raindrops began pelting against the glass. “She’s doing as well as can be expected. She’s starting to need more and more help, though. We’ve got a nurse comin’ by twice a week now.”
“I’m sorry, Pops.”
He nodded. “Been thinkin’ about takin’ her down to Florida. Our Katy is there. She’d be a big help.”
“What about the gym?”
Pops huffed out a breath. “Close down, I guess. I don’t know who’d want an old busted down place like this anymore. What do you call ‘em? Millennials? They go to the fancy places now, the ones with saunas and spin classes and all that crap. They don’t want to go to an old school place like mine.”
Max grinned. “Old school is cool, Pops. Haven’t you heard?”
Pops chuckled. “Yeah. Right.”
***
Malee secretly watched from the shadows of the corner of the gym as her brother’s MMA class finished up. She’d followed him down the two blocks from the restaurant, like she often did, and snuck in the door. But it wasn’t really the MMA class that held her interest or had her coming down here every week. It was the big man from the tattoo shop. The one named Max. He had enthralled her from the first minute she’d laid eyes on him. But he’d been missing the last few times she’d snuck down here. And as she looked toward the punching bag hanging in the corner, it appeared he was a no-show again.
The class wrapped up, and the students headed to the locker room in the back. The big cavernous space with the boxing ring in one corner, the MMA area with its large matted floor, and the exercise equipment in the other corner seemed dark and still.