Jase (Kennedy Ink.)

by Jenny Wood

  I’d catch him coming back, sober and regretful and I’d beat his ass until he promised to never touch my sister again; but within twenty-four hours, she’d be right back with him, cryin’ at me for fucking him up. I eventually left her to it. Looking back at what I know now, I’d have done more to get her away from him; I’d have tried harder to show her the way to a better life. She didn’t have to settle for a man who used her as a side piece or a punching bag. I should’ve done more to protect her. When she came home to tell Mama she was pregnant with that married man’s baby; she just knew that he’d leave his wife and kids and take care of her; she just knew it. I’d already washed my hands of all that and was ready to let her learn her own life lessons. I shouldn’t have done that.

  When Jaylee told that married man that she was pregnant with his baby; he beat her within an inch of her life. She was on life-support for nine days; swollen brain, internal bleeding and not only a dead baby but with her insides all kicked to shit that if she did pull a miracle and survive, she’d never get pregnant again. I waited until the day my Mama decided to pull the plug and Jaylee took her last breath. That married man killed my baby sister, so I killed him.

  I wish that I could tell you that I was so wracked with grief that I wasn’t thinking. I wish I could say that I saw him out, and something inside me snapped, and I just attacked him on principle. I wish that I could say that I was at the wrong place at the wrong time and it was an accident. It wasn’t. It wasn’t any of those things. I spent days trying to find that piece of shit. I found him in a small little two bedroom house that he shared with his wife and daughter. I’d rang the doorbell to his family home and waited until he came to the door. He and his wife had been eating dinner at their table like a respectable family did. Luckily, his eight-year-old daughter wasn’t home, but I’m not sure I’d have cared if she was. I might have, but…I just don’t know.

  When he opened the door and saw who was on the other side of it, I reveled in the shock and fear that passed through his face. I smiled at it; I wanted more of it. He tried to say something, he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, I put my fist into his face, and I didn’t stop until I was being thrown to the floor and handcuffed. It wasn’t until then that the noise from his wife and the many uniformed men came into focus. She was screaming bloody murder, and the officers were trying to question both of us to get answers. Screaming on top of another, just wanting answers. It was then that I noticed Clarke McGulley’s lifeless, bloody, body on the floor and his caved and sunken head. I’d done that. I’d taken a man’s life.

  The next few days were a fog. I was questioned and interrogated and chained to a chair for hours. I wasn’t allowed to eat or sleep or drink anything. I wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone, and nobody seemed to be hearing me. I’d told them the truth; that, that man had beaten and killed my sister and her baby. I gave them her name and where we were from, and it took what seemed like days for them to piece everything together. Eye for an eye, right? It was justified, right?

  Wrong.

  I was sentenced to 12 years in the Colorado State Penitentiary for felony murder in the second-degree. I was sent to a level V, maximum security prison, where I’d spend the next six years, at least, thinking about what I’d done. Because there were extenuating circumstances, like the fact that this man had beaten and killed my baby sister and the baby she was carrying; I got off pretty light. I’d been an eighteen-year-old kid, who’d just lost his sister in a horrific way. The judge had mercy on me, and she didn’t have to, but I’d never been in trouble before, and I was a distraught kid who wanted justice for his sister. I got out after serving six years and 133 days.

  Now, a twenty-five-year-old convicted murderer, I was trying to start my life over. Wasn’t easy to do with a felony murder hanging over my head, but I’d done that to myself, hadn’t I? I deserved the side-eyed whispers and people being genuinely afraid of me. I did do what everyone eventually found out that I’d done anyway. People always find out; there was no use in hiding it; with the internet being what it is now days, you can look up anybody by name alone, and it’ll tell you everything you want to know. It wasn’t like I broadcasted it, but I had told my employers when they agreed to meet with me. See, Rooster and his wife Loretta had known the Kennedy’s from an ink expo they’d attended for a couple of summers a few years back. Rooster was the only one I allowed to visit me when I’d been locked up, and since his passing two years ago, his wife Loretta demanded I stop being a stubborn ass and accept her help. She called in these guys and told them my story, and they agreed to meet with me.

  Knowing that I needed to get away from the stigma that I’d brought on myself in Colorado, I packed up my meager belongings and hauled ass to nowhere-town, Georgia and here I was. The Kennedy’s were a good group of guys and something Loretta hadn’t told me when she called in this favor was that they were all family…. Not in a biological way, though they were in every way that counted; you only had to be around them all to know how thick their bond was, but they were -family. Every one of em’ was out and proud, and even in this little ass town, it seemed to be overall accepted. Loretta claimed to have known all along and told me that Rooster had known as well, but it wasn’t something anyone talked about where I was from. Being different wasn’t accepted and being gay was downright disgusting. If you valued your life, you kept that shit to yourself and pretended otherwise.

  So here I was, with my own little apartment with hand-me-down furniture and a decent sized futon to sleep on in my small-but-mine, one bedroom, apartment. I didn’t have a bed, it was up there on my long list of things that I’d need, but with a futon, I could get other things I needed first. Loretta helped; I had the essentials and every payday I was getting more and more. Rent was cheap here in small town, USA. The cost of living was next to nothing compared to my hometown in Colorado. I couldn’t believe that a small apartment like mine was under 500 a month, utilities included; especially when working at the shop was damn good pay and depending on how much I worked and the number of tattoo’s I done each day, I could make that in a week, easy. I was getting back on my feet, and it wasn’t taking as long as I’d feared to get there.

  I got along okay with everyone from the shop; they were a loud and rowdy bunch. Kingsley didn’t let me get away with keeping a distance; he was constantly inviting me to their farm house for dinners and shit. They included me when we all went out and when I’d sat Kayson and Kingsley down and told them in detail, the sins of my past and my sexual orientation; neither one of them batted an eye at my conviction, and they ignored my coming out altogether.

  “I can’t say it’s not a big deal; I suspect it’s the biggest of your life. But if somebody took my brother away from me, I can’t promise I wouldn’t have done the same damn thing.” Kingsley told me in a rare moment of seriousness. I appreciated that more than he knew.

  “We appreciate you telling us.” Kayson had chimed in. It was like, the boulder I’d been carrying on my shoulder was lifted for just a little bit, and that was all that was said about it, then and since.

  “Joke, you’re up,” Kayson says, bringing my next appointment around. I stood up and shook her hand.

  “Haley?” I asked, softening my voice just slightly. The poor girl looked like she was about to bolt and the scowl I wore from years of trying to keep people away, was more natural to me than a smile. She nodded and came forward. “When you were here last week, you gave me some ideas. I drew up a couple of different things if you wanna check them out, see if there’s one you like.” I told her as I pulled out the stencils of the hummingbirds in different stages of flight. I’d met her last week when she came in for her consultation; she seemed to relax as we talked about coloring and placement. It wouldn’t take long at all, and I was glad for the distraction.

  I tried to make small talk with her while I was prepping the front part of her shoulder and a small ways down her chest. She told me of the significance of each bird, how each
one represented her grandparents and her mother who’d all passed away within a couple of years of each other. It was stories like these that made me appreciate what I do. It may not be much, but I like to think that in some small way, I help people. This woman wanted to remember her family and I was giving her that. Sure, anyone in my profession could do it, but it was me. I was doing it this time, and it made me proud that I could.

  “Awwww, shit… look who finally made it home!” Kingsley shouted, scaring the shit out of the girl that I was currently gouging with an ink gun. Luckily when she jerked, I had just pulled away to see who was coming in the door. I was shocked to have taken notice.

  Despite seeing a couple of pictures at the guys’ house, I’d not gotten to meet this adopted “brother” that these guys were always talking about. Seeing the couple-year-old pictures and hearing him referred to as “kid,” I wasn’t expecting the inked up, gangly man that walked in. Sure, he was young; early 20’s if I had to guess, but his smile was huge and his eyes shined with happiness with every bro-hug and friendly jostling around. For a solid minute, all I could do was stare. He was not at all what I was expecting, and it unnerved me that I’d taken notice of him at all. He was young, too young for me and the jolt that went through my body when his eyes locked on mine for a fraction of a second… Not good.

  It was enough to zap me back into reality, and I got back to my hummingbirds. That lasted all of three minutes because Kingsley brought him over to introduce him. His eyes were even happier up close. His smile was almost blinding, and fuck, the way he seemed to be frozen in my stare wasn’t helping. When Kingsley shook him out of it, and he’d reached for my hand, that jolt I swore that I felt when he looked at me was back with a vengeance. I dropped his hand like it was on fire and I think I told him it was nice to meet him. I couldn’t be sure; I felt like I was drowning in the deep brown pools of his eyes. His eyes seemed older than I’m sure he was; like he’d lived through a thing or two in his short life. I didn’t expect either of our reactions, so I dismissed him as quickly as I could. Finishing up my client and wrapping it up while I explained after-care, kept me busy for the next half an hour. Seeing him spread out in Kingsley’s chair with no shirt on and his relaxed face in my direction had me jumping out of my seat and spending the next hour in the back, working on sketches. I hadn’t even cleaned my area.

  This kid was going to be a distraction, and that was the last thing I needed. He was too young, too innocent and too good to get mixed up with the likes of me. Whatever that bullshit was when his eyes and skin touched mine was going to have to be ignored. I couldn’t afford to start over somewhere else.

  Jase

  Growing up in group homes and temporary foster homes; I’d never had a place that felt comfortable to me. A place where I could lay my head down and know that everything would be exactly the same the next night, and the next one and the next one. I went to bed each night and wondered if I’d be in the same bed tomorrow night or if a new one awaited me somewhere else. Home was never a familiar concept to me. I didn’t have a place where I could go and feel like it was where I belonged. A place where I could be comfortable and not anxious all the time about where I was going to have to go and who was going to have to tolerate having me around for the next little bit before sending me back. That was my reality. No mom, no dad, no siblings; just constant worry. That was my childhood until I moved in with Jody, Cameron, Kayson and Conner.

  Even though I was technically old enough to be on my own, they wanted me. They made “home,” familiar to me. Then, I went away to school, and I felt like I lost that sense of belonging. I knew that I could come back whenever I wanted to, but it felt different. I didn’t like it.

  “Look who’s finally up,” Cameron says as I padded into the kitchen after the most amazing sleep of my life last night. I’m pretty sure that I was asleep before I even hit the pillow. “How’d you sleep?” He asks, ignoring my grumbling shuffle to the coffee pot.

  “Better than I have in a long ass time,” I reply honestly, sipping the vanilla tasting coffee that somehow only Cameron knows how to concoct.

  “Good to be home, then?” He asks, smiling from ear to ear. I can only nod, he’s too happy for so early in the morning. We sit in silence for a good ten minutes before my coffee kicks in, and I start to feel halfway normal. If there’s one thing college taught me, it’s to schedule things in the afternoon, so you don’t have to get up so damn early. I look at the clock and see it’s half past nine. I haven’t had a class before eleven all year, so I wasn’t used to being up until much later.

  “You still coming with me to see Ms. Jay and the kids?” I ask him before a shuffling, grumbling; Jody saunters in. Also not a morning person. I give him a silent good morning, via head nod while he pours his coffee and sits down next to Cam.

  “Morning, handsome.” Cam chirps, melting the early morning sneer-before-coffee, face that Jody was previously wearing.

  “Morning, baby.” He growls, leaning over to kiss his cheek. Before I’d met these guys and my other honorary brothers, I’d not seen two guys so openly affectionate to one another. While I knew we lived in a pretty tolerant town, there just weren’t many same-sex couples around. I’d known at a very, very early age that I had crushes on boys instead of girls, but it was never, ever something that was okay to talk about. After getting your ass beat by one foster dad for merely mentioning another boy at school was cute, I never spoke of it again. That’s another way these guys made it okay for me to be…me. I was accepted, no matter what and they all understood like nobody else, because literally, all of my brothers were in same-sex relationships. How rare is that? It was like; I was made to find them. I feel so incredibly lucky that I did.

  “So, Cam… Ms. Jay?” I asked him again, interrupting the googly eyes they were currently making at each other. I mean, I’m tolerant too but come on, these guys are “my people,” the only parent-like people I have. I don’t want to see their “love-porn” displayed in the kitchen; it’s still weird.

  “I’m ready when you are.” He chuckles, leaning heavily into Jody’s side while Jody’s attention moved back to his coffee.

  “What about you? You working today?” I ask Jody.

  “I’m free until two. I’ll tag along if y’all don’t mind. I told Ms. Jay, I’d come and look at one of the washers. She said it shuts off just before the spin cycle. I told her I’d look at it before she has to go buy a new one.” He explains. Cameron looks at Jody like he’s the most precious thing ever to grace his life. Scoffing at their ridiculousness, I tell them I’m going to shower and that I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.

  Bracing my hands on the shower tiles, I let the hot water and silence wash over me. Living in a three-bedroom apartment with two other guys (and their girlfriends, most days), It seemed like I was always rushing through my morning routine. Well, that, habit, and the fact that I always woke up just ten minutes before my first class. Still, I let my mind wander aimlessly while I enjoyed it all for another couple of minutes. I couldn’t help but wonder about the new artist down at the shop; I wonder what his story is. He seemed moody, standoffish- not like Jody is to anyone who isn’t family, but actually moody and standoffish. I wonder if he ever hung out with the guys or came over to the house? Despite our frosty introduction, I found myself curious to see him again. I’d gone out with a few guys in college this year, but it was college- nothing serious or long-lasting; hell, nothing even exciting. A few hand jobs in the library or a late night dry hump while making out, I never took things too far and still had yet to… go all the way?

  Don’t get me wrong; I wasn’t a prude… I gave as good as I got, but in all honesty, I didn’t want to take that final step with just anyone. I wanted it to be with someone I trusted. I wanted a connection with someone, a real one. It wasn’t likely to happen in college though; I knew that. College was a time to play the field, experiment. Not for me; not for the kid who never had anything of his own. We tended to have clingy personalit
ies and abandonment issues. I’d mistaken affection for something more so many times in my life. I was never doing that again; so, I was waiting, I guess I was waiting on the one who’d be worth the inevitable heartache. I knew I wasn’t going to get anything from the new guy; he probably wasn’t even gay; but still… he was fantasy worthy. Shaking off my thoughts before this shower turned into something else, I finished up and dressed in my usual uniform of a t-shirt and jeans.

  “Jase, honey. There’s more sweet tea in the kitchen; you know where it is.’ Ms. Jay winked as she passed me to take a glass to the basement for Jody who was currently working on her washer.

  “I’ll get you some Jasey.” Ten-year-old, Jasmine said softly, walking swiftly into the kitchen before I could respond.

  “Jasey, how come you ain’t been back in so long?” Seven-year-old, Levon asked me from Cameron’s lap where he was playing a game on Cameron’s phone.

  “He’s been away at school, Levon. Remember? In another state.” Cameron told him sweetly. He and Jody were always so great with the kids here.

  “Where it snows a lot?” Levon asked, and Cameron smiled.

  “Yep, it snows so much and gets so cold there; sometimes they even let us skip school cause of it,” I told him in mock astonishment.

  “Lucky.” He grumbled before turning his attention back to the game.

  “Here you go, Jasey,” Jasmine said quietly, handing me my glass of tea.

  “Thank you, Jazzy.” I smiled; noticing the blush on her cheeks before she turned and went back into the kitchen.

  “Someone’s sweet on you, Jasey.” Cameron giggled softly before putting his arm around nine-year-old, Landon, who was leaning heavily on his side, watching Levon try to match colored boxes and make them explode on the screen. I don’t think Jasmine was sweet on me at all; I think that a lot of these kids do good things, so they’ll be rewarded with a compliment or because hearing something like thank you or getting a smile from someone being nice is something they yearn for. I remember. Still, I rolled my eyes and let it go.