Stories Beneath Our Skin

by Veronica Sloane

  "There's the youngest darling." Frankie held out a biscuit. "I held back these savages with a plastic spork, so be grateful."

  "Thanks." He took it and bit into it. The bread melted over his tongue in salty sweet buttery bliss. He sank into the chair, clutching the biscuit like a lover. "Oh my God."

  "My grandmother's recipe." Frankie waved a paper towel napkin at him until he held it under the crumbling biscuit.

  "Patron saint of home cooking." Deb grinned ripping into a wing. "That woman almost killed me last time she came up for a visit."

  "She thinks everyone is too thin." Handing over a plastic plate next, Frankie commanded, "Dig in. Just try not to lose a finger."

  "What's the occasion?" he asked as he snagged a drumstick.

  "Girl can't bring her friends some decent dinner?"

  "Don't question her." Deb pointed a finger. "The bringer of food may come and go at her own whim."

  "Actually." Frankie crossed her legs in the chair, flashing an intricate tree rooted under her sock that grew all the way up and over her calf, disappearing into the hem of her skirt. "I'm hoping to bribe you guys into taking a booth at the street fair this year."

  "Aw, c'mon Frankie, you know we've got nothing to sell. Can't tattoo on the street. It's a total wash for us," Ace complained even as he reached for another chicken leg. "Not to mention, I spent a week peeling off my sunburn from it last year."

  "That's why I didn't ask you until I was sure that no one else was signing up. We've only got twenty vendors so far, and the deadline is next weekend. If we don't get more the fair won't go off."

  "No way. Last time we baked for seven hours and no one even came near us."

  "It's not my fault you didn't remember to slap some sunscreen on! Anyway, they saw your banner! Didn't you get a walk-in or two out of it?" she pouted. "C'mon Aces. Do a girl a favor."

  "It's a three-hundred dollar favor. Not to mention man hours. You're asking me to pay out for no return."

  "You could sell some of your sketches." Deb took another biscuit, avoiding Ace's narrowed glare. "Someone's gotta like your strange little doodles."

  "Those are personal. And come on, who the hell is going to buy marker cartoons? What people want at a street fair are portraits. You know, like those street artists that hang around tourist traps." Ace frowned, then shot Liam a calculating look.

  "No," he said flatly, peeling the fried skin off and eating it meticulously. "Not gonna happen."

  "That'd be perfect!" Frankie actually bounced a little. "Get junior to do caricatures, and you can hustle business, Ace. Take your shirt off and draw in the crowd."

  "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with the direction this is going in," Ace growled. "How about we stick to Liam's sketches."

  "I'm not selling my stuff." Liam frowned.

  "It wouldn't be your personal stuff. Just quick outlines of faces. You're decent at those, and people love getting drawings of themselves." Ace waved a bone at him. "They'll throw cash at us."

  "No way in hell," Liam said stiffly. "I'm not even sure I can draw that fast."

  "Awww." Frankie widened her eyes, showing off the deep green. The piercing in her dimple flashed winningly. "C'mon, baby, do it for me?"

  "I barely know you," he grumbled.

  "It would be good advertising." Ace licked grease off his thumb, the tip of his tongue pink and pointed.

  "Maybe." Liam lost track of the conversation for a critical second, imagining that tongue tracing the lines of his back.

  "Great!" Frankie beamed. "I'll get you the paperwork."

  "Wait. What? No!" But it was too late. Ten minutes later, Frankie was walking out the door with the signed paperwork in hand and a smug look on her face.

  "I'm not happy about this," Liam informed Deb and Ace, who had a shared conspiratorial look about them.

  "It's okay, Professor. If you got all sunshiney about something, I might call 911 for my oncoming heart attack." Deb grinned. "Now finish your chicken."

  They were still eating when Goose wandered in a half hour later. There was a bandaged cut on his forehead and a ripening bruise around his right eye. He slumped down into a free chair.

  "Frankie was here?" he asked mournfully, gazing over the decimated impromptu picnic. "She knew I was gonna be in late today, why didn't she wait?"

  "Jesus, what happened?" Deb leaned in, hand hovering over his eye. "Get in an argument with a brick wall?"

  "Yeah, something like that." Goose picked up a piece of chicken. "It's all good."

  "Look at your hand!" Grabbing his wrist, Deb exposed the torn up knuckles. "You punched someone? Are you kidding me? What happened to zen?"

  "I was zen. Total zen fu." Goose pulled away from her. "Stop fussing about it. Just had a little disagreement, no big deal."

  "You've never thrown a punch in your life." Ace stared Goose down. "Not even after I taught you how in tenth grade so Studebaker would stop pushing you into lockers. You started bribing him with your lunch money instead."

  "First time for everything." Goose bit into chicken then winced.

  "They get you in the jaw too?"

  "Maybe." His gaze slid away, but Goose had no poker face whatsoever. Liam read embarrassment and anger easily in the tight lines around his mouth.

  "Out with it." Deb demanded.

  "No. Seriously, you guys, it wasn't a big deal."

  "It was Joy, wasn't it?" Ace wiped his hands very deliberately on a napkin. "You caught her at something with someone. Her dealer?"

  "No," Goose denied limply. "Just a random dude at a bar."

  "What was she doing?"

  "Ace, seriously, it's fine. All taken care of."

  "Tell me." The deadly calm shook Liam a little.

  Apparently it shook Goose too because he started talking, eyes glued to the floor.

  "I ran into them outside the liquor store. He was giving her something."

  "What was it?"

  "Dunno, I swear. Looked like pills. White ones. Could have been anything. I asked him politely to stop the sale, and Joy clocked me a good one on the jaw for interfering. Dealer followed it up with one to the head. I... got angry, man. I mean, she'd been trying. I know she was trying, and I'm like you man, I remember her being a sweet little kid. I was just... don't think I've ever been that mad. Anyway, guy took another smack at me, and I hightailed it. Didn't want to get the shit kicked out of me. Cleaned up before I came over."

  "Where was Cole?" Ace asked into the stunned silence.

  "Not with her. I checked, I swear. I wouldn't leave the little guy there if I'd seen him." Goose licked his lips, wincing when he hit the tender spot that must've been bleeding fiercely not long ago. "I called your Mom first thing. Joy dropped him off with her yesterday."

  "Of course she did. Excuse me." Ace got up and went to the back. Liam heard the faint clink of his boots on the ladder to the roof.

  "It's good you told him. He had to know." Deb reassured Goose.

  "He didn't." Goose ate a biscuit, chewing on the good side of his mouth. "I should have kept my distance. Definitely should've kept my mouth shut. His mom was going to call soon anyway."

  "There's a kid involved, you ass. It's different. Time is important on this stuff."

  "He's going to call Child Services on her, isn't he?" Goose dropped his head into his hands. "God. What a mess."

  "If he doesn't, I will." Deb shrugged. "I like Joy when she's sober, but I love Cole and no kid deserves that. If she's using again, then someone has to get him out of there."

  "Is Ace going to be all right?" Liam asked, listening to the faint echo of footsteps through the ceiling.

  "No idea." Goose didn't look up.

  "Aren't you going to check on him?" Surveying both their faces, Liam found they were certainly not going to try to beard the lion in his den. "I'll go."

  "Your funeral, Professor," Deb warned.

  He waited a few minutes before going up, but he still caught the tail end of Ace's phone call. Pacing, Ace did lo
ok lionish with the heavy fall of his dreadlocks on the back of his neck and the loping strength of his stride. Liam waited by the hatch, unwilling to go back now, but hesitant to intrude.

  "Of course I can take him for a few days, but that isn't a long term solution," Ace said irritably into the phone. "The poor kid deserves a bed and space to run around."

  There was a long pause, and Ace stopped dead in his tracks, staring out into the parking lot. The night air too humid and close, a promise of a storm coming.

  "I know." Ace said eventually. "I'll -- we'll just figure something out. If you can get her into the center, I can take him for six or seven weeks. Yeah... yeah. Love you too, Mom."

  Liam waited in silence, watched as Ace sunk into the patio chair and folded one leg underneath him. He was beautiful in the night, softened by the glow of neon lights. A surge of want took Liam off guard, and he had to shake himself out of it. It was certainly neither the time nor the place for it.

  "I know you're there," Ace said without sting. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that staring is rude?"

  "Sorry." Liam paused. "I think I told you that this morning actually."

  "It's a joke isn't it?"

  "What is?" Liam took the chair beside Ace, accustomed now to its rickety dip beneath him.

  "You spend all this time growing up, figuring out your shit, and just when you think just maybe you've got a handle on things, it all goes to hell." Tucking his arms tight around his chest, Ace let out a long breath through his nose. "She was a good kid. Smart. I looked out for her, and Mom did her best. Then I went Afghanistan and came back to this furious teenager that I barely recognized."

  "Rehab will help," Liam offered limply.

  "Yeah, but getting her to go? I don't want to strong-arm her, but there aren't any choices left. Cole doesn't deserve all of this. He can't stay with my Mom all the time, she's got a full-time job and not as much energy as she used to, you know? All I've got to offer is a one-bedroom apartment and weird working hours. When he stays over, we're always falling all over each other. Fine for a day or two, but in the long run--"

  "Gene's house is mostly empty." Liam blurted out, the idea coalescing only as he spoke. "It's not very big, but there's his bedroom and his office. I've been -- I'm supposed to be emptying it out. Selling things. I haven't -- but if you want. There's space."

  "I can't move into your house." Ace tipped his head back, watching the mill of clouds. "I'll think of something."

  "No. I'd like it. I mean--" Liam stopped, took a breath. It may have been impulsive and risky for his mental health, but Liam identified too much with Cole just then to offer anything less than the moon if he could. "It's space that no one is using, and you need it. As long as you buy your own groceries, it won't cost me or Gene anything. You can even bring George. Put the litter box in the basement."

  "And Gene won't care that you're opening up his house?"

  "To an uncle taking care of his nephew?" Liam offered a lopsided smile. "I think he'd get a kick out of it actually."

  Ace went quiet, his right knee bobbing up and down in restless frustration. The air was too thick, laboring in Liam's lungs as he waited. He busied himself counting the heavy inhalations and the ragged exhalations. A motorcycle tore by, shattering the night's peace with an angry clatter of the engine.

  "I'll help you pack everything up. Help out." Ace offered into the silence. "If you need it. Kind of like an exchange or whatever."

  "You don't have to. I mean, Cole is going to need you a lot these next few weeks."

  "There's plenty of me to go around. Besides, I have to do something, or I'll feel like a worthless freeloader." Ace smiled tightly. "I appreciate it, Professor. You're a good egg, you know that?"

  Liam flushed and dropped his attention to the toes of his sneakers. Across the street, a neon light gave an irritated buzz before snapping off abruptly. The world went incrementally darker.

  "Do you think Frankie is avoiding Goose?" It was a flimsy subject change on Liam's part, but to his surprise Ace took the question seriously.

  "Probably. I don't remember what all we put in that note, but it probably put her back to the wall." Ace licked her lips. "She's never actually told him no. Not once. He would have never kept trying if she did. You know how they met?"

  "I figured at the bar."

  "Nope. Roller derby after party."

  "Seriously?"

  "His big sister is the captain of the Brawl Busters. Frankie was a blocker for a while, pretty good at it too. She dropped out when her Dad retired and left her the bar, not enough time for it. Back then though she was something to see. Famous for her after parties with cocktails that could knock a grown man to his knees. Goose brought some of his home-brewed moonshine to this one party. I think it was his sister's birthday. He ever give you some of his stuff?"

  "No." Liam had seen one or two jam jars in the back of Goose's car, but never thought anything of it.

  "He's always tinkering with the recipe, but no matter what it'll take the enamel off your teeth. Apparently Frankie had one sip, told him that he was her new best friend. Everyone talks about that party now. It's a legend, the two of them soused on moonshine, making eyes at each other and starting a riot. Somehow she got his name out of the mess and managed to remember it. She showed up at the parlor a week later looking to get inked. That was three years ago now."

  "And he's been chasing after her that whole time?" Liam shook his head. "That's a long time to be determined."

  "I think it really was only flirting in the beginning. Frankie was with someone back then. Some asshole... Andy maybe? Something like that. I met him once and wasn't impressed, but she was crazy about him." Ace shrugged. "Once they broke up, Frankie wasn't really the same for a while. She didn't come around, hired someone else to man the bar. Goose was like a puppy waiting for his owner to come home. Guess it struck him then, how much he really liked her."

  "So why didn't he go after her when she got back?"

  "He did. But I think he's been flirting so long, she just takes it as a part of him, you know?" Ace laughed. "Until you had him write a pretty little love letter. Must've shook her up good if she's running away from him again."

  "Oh. Shit." Liam groaned. "Is the estrangement my fault? I was trying to help, not make it worse."

  "Nah. They'll sort themselves out. Or not. The path to true love never did run straight or whatever."

  "Smooth," Liam corrected absently.

  "Well that just goes without saying."

  "Do you believe in true love?"

  "Like Disney style?" Ace laughed. "No. I think love is like anything else. Messy and complicated. Worth it though."

  "Is it?" Liam pressed his hand to his stomach. "Even when it goes rancid?"

  "I can't speak for you with whatever demons you let talk in your ears all day." Ace kicked at Liam's sneaker lightly, the heavy press of steel flirting briefly with the upturned runner's sole. "But yeah. When it's all over, it's usually worth it. I'd be someone different now if I hadn't gone through it."

  "So would I," he admitted. "But different isn't always better."

  They stayed out awhile longer, the moon cracking over the hazy horizon as they watched. Liam slapped down a few mosquitoes, and Ace told him about an ill-fated camping trip from the year before. When his phone rang, Ace took it out and stared at the screen for a long tense moment.

  "I have to take this," he said regretfully.

  "I'll be downstairs if you need me," Liam told him as he stood.

  "Thanks." Ace clapped him on the shoulder as he walked away, and the imprint of his hand stayed warm longer than it should have.

  Chapter Seven

  Waiting on the sun-warmed steps of the house, Liam had a visceral memory of being nine and playing with matchbox cars while Gene tended the small garden. Frequently the cars would get in explosive crashes, careening into the roses. There were probably one or two still tangled in the roots of the overgrown bushes.

  Ace's car pulle
d into the driveway. Liam stood, brushing crumbled cement from the back of his shorts. There were a few garbage bags piled into the backseat of the car and a cat carrier. George's face was smushed up against the bars, a series of irritated meows audible through the car doors.

  "Sorry I'm late," Ace said as he got out. "Landlord saw me going and wanted to know if I was moving out. Took him ten minutes to get that I was coming back."

  "It's okay. I just got back from St. Francis. Do you need help?"

  Together they carried in four bags, dropping them into the master bedroom. Gene hadn't actually slept there in years, preferring his armchair in the living room. Liam had stripped the bed and put on fresh sheets the night before. An open window had killed most of the scent of disuse.

  "I cleared out most of the closet space and the drawers." It had taken him fifteen minutes on the band-aid principal: Rip it off and don't think about it. "I'm not done with the office yet though."

  "I can help you with that." Ace opened one of the bags and pulled out a dark blue comforter, throwing it over the bed. A newly freed George sniffed out the far corner of the room then disappeared down the hallway. "If it's okay, I thought I'd bring some of Cole's furniture over, too. Goose has a van I can use this afternoon."

  "Sure. Kid should have some familiar stuff."

  "Why don't I help you out with the office then?"

  The office was more a collection of piled papers stacked strategically around an ancient desk than a room. Liam had started going through them a few nights ago until he'd come across faded paperwork for bail bonds for his aunt. He'd abandoned the project and seriously considered getting drunk on the questionable box of red wine that had been hanging around in the back of the fridge the day he moved back in.

  "Sorry," he said as he swung the door open. "I figured I could just move everything into the basement for now. Sort through it later."

  "Might as well do it now." Ace picked up a handful of documents off the top. "Should go fast with both of us. Make three piles -- keep, maybe, and shred."