Turn (Gentry Generations)

by Cora Brent

  “There’s a rumor you’re joining the Scratch payroll for the summer,” she said.

  “There’s an even better rumor that a hidden pile of pulled pork sandwiches awaits us in the fridge,” I said, taking a seat at the table.

  Of course my dad would have discussed the idea of hiring me with Uncle Deck before making the offer. They were partners after all. And naturally Deck would have mentioned it to his wife. As for my part, I was still giving the matter some thought.

  My mother produced a plate of sandwiches from their secret location. “They should still be warm,” she said, setting the plate on the table.

  Cami grabbed a beer from the fridge but I shook my head when she offered me one and instead motioned to one of the Cokes while preparing to bite into a sandwich.

  Aunt Jenny left to go hunt down her husband, who I’d last seen joining the conversation between Uncle Chase and Dalton. My dad poked his head into the kitchen and asked if there was any more food to serve the demanding masses. My mother tossed him a box of Ritz crackers and told him to ration it. Before she ventured out into the living room to assess the situation, she paused to touch the head of her youngest child.

  This had to be a bittersweet night for my parents. The return of one daughter and the departure of another. Cadence, the baby. Sure, she’d be back at the end of the summer but then she’d turn right around and sail off to her first year of college.

  My sisters and I chewed quietly at the table for a moment once my mother was gone. There were a million memories in this room; meals, laughter, arguments. We’d always had a habit of gathering in the kitchen.

  “I’m going to take Dad up on his offer,” I said. “I’ve got to work somewhere and summer options are limited on short notice. Plus it’ll be nice to have a quiet, low key summer among family.”

  Cami grinned. “You never know. Last year a summer job changed my life. Maybe this year a summer job will change yours.”

  I popped the last bite of shredded pork in my mouth and swallowed.

  “That’s true,” I agreed, even though I didn’t believe it. “You never know.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  By my second week working for the Gentrys I was starting to feel pretty good about the situation. My bosses had high expectations but they were fair and willing to invest the resources for training.

  And that wasn’t the only good news.

  Tristan had gotten a job stocking shelves at a convenience store. He’d been home before dark the last few days, looking tired but satisfied, and the fact that he didn’t give me a moment of grief made me hope this rebellious phase was fizzling out. Plus Brecken had mentioned making some new friends and that was no easy chore for a shy thirteen-year-old boy.

  After I dropped Brecken off at school I stopped at a gas station to search for a cheap lunch to bring with me to work. As I scanned the hot food section I was struck by a thought that had been on my mind a lot lately. This was the first time in my life I really knew what it meant to pinch pennies, to make do with less than what I needed. Our family had never lived like kings in Emblem, especially after my dad died, but there was enough. And then once I was jumped into the gang I always had more money than I needed spilling out of my pockets, usually acquired by doing things I couldn’t do anymore now that my brothers were depending on me.

  But as I picked a half frozen burrito off the food heater and carried it to the counter I couldn’t deny that sometimes I thought about how much easier things would be if I slid back into old profitable habits. I’d permanently severed those links without a second thought the day I received a tearful two a.m. call from my mother but I could think of a few ways to make contact and find something far more lucrative. All it would take was a phone call or two.

  “Three oh seven,” said the cashier in a monotone. She had the kind of puckered mouth that meant there were probably no teeth on the other side. I handed her a ten and carefully pocketed the change when she handed it over. Even the pennies.

  No, I wouldn’t be making any phone calls. There was a hell of a lot more at stake now than my own future. My brothers had no one else but me and I’d gouge out my own eyeballs before I’d do a thing to risk having them end up in the system, alone and unloved.

  “You need a bag, sir?” the cashier asked with a wheeze.

  “No thanks.” I grabbed a few napkins from the dispenser and moved aside so I would stop taking up space at her counter. My pace quickened after I glanced at the time and realized that I might be late for work if I didn’t step it up.

  My phone rang the second I stuck the key in the car’s ignition and I debated ignoring it but worried there might be something up with the boys.

  The caller ID said ‘Unknown’ and it might have been just some asshole telemarketer. Except I knew it wasn’t. She had yet to utter a word on these calls but I had no doubt she was on the other end. Probably lounging on a beach somewhere south of the border and wondering if any of us would ever forgive her. I hadn’t. That was why I never broke the silence.

  “I won’t make it there, Curtis. I won’t make it in prison.”

  “You will. People do it every day.”

  “Not me. I can’t.”

  This time I didn’t listen to the silence for very long. Before I ended the call I thought I heard the sound of a muffled sob. That didn’t bother me. She should cry after what she did.

  The phone calls always came out of the blue and always caught me off guard. I gritted my teeth, trying to stifle the urge to floor the accelerator and drive fast and angry all the way to Scratch. I was still tense when I pulled into the parking lot and took a few calming breaths before cutting the engine.

  The sight of the quirky tattoo parlor cheered me up a little. So far this seemed like a good place, filled with decent, hardworking people and I felt lucky to have found a job here.

  The friendly receptionist wasn’t at the front desk and that’s when I remembered yesterday had been her last day. I’d heard from Zach, one of the ink artists, that her temporary replacement would be Cord Gentry’s daughter. The news didn’t really interest me. I was here to work, not socialize. I think I grunted some acknowledgement and continued sweeping the push broom across the floor but Zach saw fit to arch a pierced eyebrow and make some dumbass comment like, “You can look, Mulligan, but don’t touch. On second thought, don’t even look. Cord is crazy protective of his girls.”

  I had said, “Thanks for the intel,” just to get him to shut up. But privately I was thinking that I wouldn’t dare mess with the boss’s daughter even if she had magic tits.

  Cord’s daughter was apparently unconcerned about getting an early start on the day because there was no sign of her. In a way that was a relief because I’d met a bunch of new people here lately and it was a little early in the day to add another one. I headed for the break room to get a quick cup of coffee and stow my lunch in the fridge.

  Apparently I was the only one in the building who brought lunch because the fridge was almost empty every time I looked in there. Of course there were a million better eating options within a mile, especially since we were so close to the university, but I didn’t want to waste the money. I set my lunch on the middle shelf in the back of the fridge, keeping it out of the way just in case someone did need the space.

  There was always a pot of coffee available and I’d been told to help myself to any of the assorted ceramic mugs that lined the shelf above. The break room hadn’t been spared from the artistic vibe that existed throughout Scratch. The walls were painted a deep purple and decorated with a variety of framed sketches. I sipped from a coffee cup and took a moment to gaze at a sketched profile of a young woman with long wavy hair and a red rose over her ear.

  The deep sound of a throat clearing made me turn my head toward the doorway. Deck Gentry was leaning against the wall and watching me. He grinned.

  “How’s the job going?”

  “Great,” I said, reaching out to meet his fist bump. “Thanks again for the opportuni
ty.”

  Deck was amused. “You already thanked me six times.”

  I set my coffee cup down. “I wanted to be sure I got the message across. Look, I know my resume is not, ah…”

  Deck waved a hand to cut me off. “That’s all history, man. We appreciate the fact that you want to wipe the slate clean.”

  “Well, I appreciate that you gave me the chance to do it.”

  Deck became serious. “How’s everything besides the job going, Curtis?”

  There were things I could have told him. But the last thing I wanted to do was cry on Deck Gentry’s shoulder. He and Cord had done a lot for me when it would have been easy to say no. Not everyone would take a chance on a high school dropout with gang ties.

  “I’m figuring things out,” I said carefully. “The boys are doing well.”

  Deck seemed like he was waiting for me to say more but I just started rinsing out my coffee cup.

  “You be sure to let me know if I can help with anything,” he said.

  “Will do. Thanks.” I wiped the mug dry with a paper towel and put it back where I found it. “Guess I better go see where I’m needed today.”

  “I think Zach left a mess in one of the back rooms yesterday.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Deck frowned. “He should learn to clean his tools properly.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

  “All right then,” Deck said. He waved. “I’ll see you later.”

  I stared after him for a few seconds as he departed for his office way at the end of the corridor. When I was a kid I’d been in awe of Deck Gentry. I still was. Despite a few gray hairs around the temples he was exactly as I remembered, a force to be reckoned with.

  The back room in question was on the other side of the building, only reachable by passing through the lobby. By that time I’d already forgotten about the latest new employee of Scratch so I was a little startled to pass by and see her sitting there.

  She was startled to see me too.

  I remembered her. And judging from the expression on her face, she also remembered me.

  We stared at each other for a few awkward seconds before I recovered my wits and made a stab at politeness.

  “Hi,” I said. “I’m Curtis Mulligan.”

  I didn’t know why I had added my last name, other than the hope that this introduction would purge my former identity as Asshole From the Parking Lot.

  The girl waited a moment before answering. “Hello. I’m Cassie Gentry.” She looked me over with big blue eyes and then smiled. “You’re new here.”

  “Yep. Just started last week.”

  “Are you an artist?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  Cassie waited for me to elaborate but I was having trouble concentrating. She was pretty, way too fucking pretty.

  She was also the daughter of a man who’d given me a job.

  Plus my original impression of her hadn’t changed. She seemed like a soft, sheltered sort of girl who probably still worshipped her high school prom corsage and cried if the latte store ran out of pumpkin spice. Not my type.

  “I better get moving,” I said. It might have been one of the top ten dumbest sentences I’d ever uttered.

  Cassie seemed to think so too. She pursed her lips. “Of course. Didn’t mean to keep you from something important.”

  “Good meeting you,” I said and turned away, lowering my head and heading for the hall.

  Cassie’s airy voice floated after me. “Good meeting you too,” she said. “Again.”

  That wasn’t true. We hadn’t actually met last time. But it was her way of letting me know in no uncertain terms that she remembered where she’d seen me before. I decided it was fine if she wanted to keep me in the ‘Asshole’ club. We wouldn’t have anything to say to each other anyway and even if she complained to her dad he wasn’t likely to fire me just because I got annoyed when coffee cups were left on the hood of my car.

  The back room wasn’t really in bad shape. There were some tools left out that would need to be sterilized and it could be assumed that Zach hadn’t bothered to wipe down the chair. Zach struck me as kind of a careless worker but from what I’d seen his results were spectacular, which was why I believed him when he proudly told me his appointments were always in high demand. The dude had skills. I wouldn’t mind getting some ink from him if I had the money and the skin to spare. Deck and Cord probably put up with a few quirks here and there because he was such a fantastic artist.

  I’d just finished replacing all the newly sterilized tools in the back room when Freya walked in and told me Cord had asked her to let me observe her doing piercings for the rest of the morning. Freya had purple hair that stuck out in twenty directions, a shade perfectly matched to her thick eyeglass frames. She talked about her girlfriend, Hallie, whenever there was a free moment. Since it was the middle of the week and appointments were light, a lot of free moments popped up.

  Hallie’s favorite color was powder blue.

  Hallie read a book a day, sometimes two.

  Hallie really wanted to buy a cabin in Vermont and live off the grid.

  In between my education in all things Hallie I managed to learn a thing or two that would actually be useful. Freya was patient when it came to explaining each step in her work and she was meticulous about carefully sterilizing all instruments.

  “You won’t be able to try any piercings yourself until you have a few months of apprenticeship under your belt,” she said as she fastened a belly button ring. “But after that you’ll get more hands on experience.”

  “Cord also mentioned that it would be a good idea to take a blood born pathogens class,” I said. “I heard the Red Cross offers them.”

  Freya sat back and admired her work. She smiled. “Hallie volunteers with the Red Cross. Did I mention that already?”

  “Not yet,” I said.

  At ten minutes after noon Freya said farewell to a newly tongue-pierced young musician, noted the time and gasped because she was late meeting Hallie for lunch. I told her to go on ahead and I’d get everything cleaned up.

  “You’re a peach,” Freya said and skipped off to her Hallie rendezvous.

  Most of the staff took lunch from noon until one. Since I didn’t have big plans other than heading into the break room at some point and reuniting with my gas station burrito, I took my time about cleaning up and running a broom across the floor. I may have dropped the ball in a few areas of my life but I’d always been a neat freak.

  By half past twelve my stomach was rumbling so I took a lunch break, glad that there was a soda machine in there so I wouldn’t have to leave the building to find something to drink.

  Cassie was sitting at the reception desk but she was wearing ear buds and had a plate of something that looked like bird food in front of her. She didn’t notice me, or at least she pretended not to.

  The break room was empty. After selecting a Mountain Dew from the vending machine I opened the fridge and stared at the empty shelf where my burrito ought to be. There was nothing there, not even the wedge of plastic-wrapped cheese that had been hibernating in a corner. I searched the drawers and even the freezer just in case some clown had seen fit to relocate my food. I found nothing. Just a vacant, immaculate appliance.

  I closed the door, scowling. I couldn’t imagine that anyone would have been tempted enough to steal a limp burrito wrapped in brown napkins.

  The shuffle of nearby footsteps made me turn around.

  “Oh,” said Cassie. “I didn’t see you come in here.”

  “And yet here I am,” I said, closing the fridge.

  Now that Cassie was standing in front of me I had a tough time trying not to notice her body. It was nice.

  Cassie grabbed a paper towel and nodded to the can in my hand. “That your lunch?”

  I looked at the Mountain Dew. “I guess so. I did have a burrito in the fridge but it has apparently evaporated.”

  Cassie froze. Her eyes widene
d. Her mouth puckered into a little pink pout of distress. “Damn. That was yours?”

  I just stared at her, struggling to understand the meaning behind the question. I had a hard time believing Cassie Gentry would raid the employee fridge and devour the contents.

  “I thought no one ever used the fridge and it looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in months,” she said, talking quickly as she twisted a strand of blonde hair around one finger. “Plus I was bored. So I cleaned it.”

  “You cleaned it?”

  “From top to bottom.”

  “And what did you do with my burrito?”

  She winced and dropped her hair. “I really thought it was old.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  “Well, I know that now.”

  “So where did it go?”

  Cassie glanced at the silver wastebasket. Then her face brightened and she darted over there to begin pawing through the trash. “It was only about an hour ago,” she said.

  “Huh?” I was still trying to process the fact that this girl was rummaging through the garbage.

  Cassie found the discarded burrito and triumphantly held it up. “See? It’s still kind of cold.” She offered it to me with a radiant smile.

  I was sure at some point in my life I’d eaten something worse than a floppy burrito that had been hanging out in the trash. But I didn’t feel like doing it now.

  “Thanks,” I said. “But you can put it back in the garbage where you found it.”

  Cassie’s smile fell away. She tossed the unlucky burrito into the garbage can where it sat sadly atop a pile of used paper cups.

  She chewed her lip. “I feel bad.”

  “Don’t,” I replied.

  I stuck a dollar in the vending machine and chose a bag of potato chips.

  “I have plenty of extra granola if you’d like some,” she offered.

  I sat down at the table. A headache was blossoming somewhere deep in my skull. I wondered if it was caused by the effort required not to stare at Cassie’s perky tits and tight ass.