Barber Shop Ink - Book 2: Between a Hedge and a Hard Place

by Penny Blush

  I walked into the bathroom, hanging up our towels, slipping into a tee of his that I have been using to sleep in. It smelt like him, and it was comforting.

  “Damn it,” he said looking disappointed, “I was hoping that you would stay naked.”

  I smirked, crawling onto the bed sitting so that I could face him. “I didn’t think the conversation we’re about to have is one that we should have naked,” I said teasingly, using his words against him.

  We sat, and we talked. Just like he promised Memphis told me everything. He told me about his big-hearted Pops, who put everyone else ahead of himself, putting himself into financial trouble to help others out.

  He explained how when the debt started to avalanche, instead of asking for help from the people closest to him, he turned to a loan shark. Memphis told me about how he had inherited his Grandfather’s debt and how he has been using every spare cent to pay down the debt. He explained about moving into the empty shop and renting out his house for extra money.

  Then he told me about the beating. He didn’t want to, but I forced the confession. I needed to know. I needed to find out what happened to him. Every-last-detail. As his words flowed, and the details became apparent, I vowed that I would find each, and every person involved and make them pay.

  “So, there you have it, all my dirty laundry out in the air. All the skeletons are out of the closet. Now, it’s your turn. You need to tell me what happened. You need to explain how you knew how to do this,” Memphis said, pointing to his belly where a fresh surgical dressing covered the stitches.

  We sat in silence for a moment. I looked at Memphis, he seemed lighter somehow, as if the more he spoke, the lighter his burden became.

  I just hoped that when the time came that by telling my story it would exorcise some of my demons. I got up from the bed.

  “Baby Girl, where are you going?” He asked sounding slightly panicked.

  “We both need a little break,” I said walking back to him. “You need some more pain meds, but you need food in your belly first.”

  I smiled, poking him in his rock-hard abs. Only Memphis could be knocking on death’s door and still look unbelievably handsome. Even after being beaten, stabbed and then becoming so incredibly sick, his body remained toned and his muscles defined.

  I gave him a quick kiss then headed to the kitchen.

  “I, for one could use a stiff drink,” I muttered.

  I walked back to the bedroom a few moments later to find Memphis dozing, so I let him be. I put the bottles of water and the plate of sandwiches on the bedside table and went back to grab a bottle of spiced rum.

  I had two quick shots of the spicy golden liquid, the comforting warmth sliding down my throat. A slow burning heat inched its way through my veins. The thermic effect of the liquor centered me, calming my nerves.

  I don’t know why they call it spiced rum because I don’t find it spicy at all. I think it tastes like vanilla. Its smooth, warm and soothing.

  I stood for a short while, staring at the light golden liquid as I swirled it around the edge of the glass. Watching the liquor bead on the glass, leaving behind wavy alcoholic filmy lines - the Marangoni Effect it’s called. The result caused by the fact that alcohol has a lower surface tension than water.

  “Fuck me. I know a lot of useless information,” I muttered out loud to no one in particular.

  Pouring myself another glass then downing it quickly, I grabbed the bottle by the neck and wandered back towards my bed. I had procrastinated and put off telling my story long enough.

  “Hey, beautiful girl,” Memphis murmured, sleepily. “Where did you go?”

  “To get you something to eat,” I said giving him a quick kiss, handing him the plated sandwich. “It’s time for more pain meds,” I raised the rum bottle smirking. “I needed some pain meds too.”

  “It can’t be that bad,” he chuckled.

  “Yeah, it can,” I said looking at my feet.

  “Baby Girl come here sit with me,” he said patting the bed beside him, “talk to me.”

  I took a deep breath, walking to the foot of the bed, “I can’t,” I said looking at him.

  “I told you my story,” he murmured although sounding annoyed.

  “No, Baby, no it’s not that,” I said slowly pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed. “I’ll tell you, I don’t want to, but I will. I just…” I shook my hands trying to dispel some of my nervous energy, “… I can’t sit still while I do it. I… I can’t have you touching me.” I hoped he would understand.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Memphis, my story is ugly and horrible. I’m telling you because you need to know, but also because I trust you. I will tell this story once, and it will not leave this room.”

  He nodded in agreement.

  I told him about my early life, my life with my parents. The day I got into the car with my parents happy and whole and then woke up in the hospital, a broken orphan. I told him about what I could remember about the accident.

  I laughed and cried my way through the events that followed - moving in with my aunt, uncle, and Jax, dealing with Davan’s redeployment, starting at a new school and being angry all the time.

  I told him about my aunt and uncle helping to deal with my anger and pain through martial arts and gymnastics.

  “I have a near photographic memory, information just sticks to my brain,” I said, sitting at the foot of the bed eating my sandwich as I spoke. “I could have been anything - lawyer, doctor, teacher, anything. When I finished school, I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I decided to take a break while I was figuring things out. My Uncle Charlie - my dad’s second cousin - contacted me and offered to fly me to England to spend some time with him and my dad’s side of the family. I was so excited and booked a Skype call with Davan to tell him.”

  I took a small drink of water to give me time to gather my thoughts, talking about Davan always hurt.

  “My brother was on deployment, and I rarely got to speak with him in person, let alone see him. My heart just about exploded when I saw him, he looked so handsome in his uniform. He looked so much like our dad. I told Davan all about Uncle Charlie’s offer. He had gotten so angry,” I blinked back tears that had started to gather, blurring my vision. “He forbade me from going. Davan had never denied me anything before. I sat staring at his face on my computer screen, and the longer I sat there, the angrier I got. I screamed and yelled and told him that he was not my father and he couldn’t tell me what to do.”

  I swiped at the tears that had started to fall.

  “I said that Davan was barely my brother, being that he was a million miles away when I needed him the most.” I took a deep breath and added amidst my tears. “That was the last time I saw him, the last time we spoke.”

  “What happened to him?” Memphis asked quietly.

  “I don’t know,” I sniffed, smiling sadly. “There was a phone number that I had to call if I wanted to speak with Davan. After about a month I called, wanting to talk to him, I wanted to apologies for being a complete brat.” My voice wavered tears sprung from my eyes. “All I got was a recording that said information on this soldier is unavailable at this time. I called every week for six months before I stopped. It just became too painful, you know?” I said, looking up at Memphis, seeing sympathy in his eyes.

  I shook myself.

  “Anyway, I just sort of got on with my life. By that time, I travelled through Japan with Jax before he went home, and I then was living in London. I started working for my uncle, doing bookkeeping, ordering, staffing that kind of thing, mainly office work and occasionally I would work with Stella in her salon.”

  Memphis listened to my story about living in London, the friends I made, the things I’d seen and done and Stella, the sister I never had and the reason I fell in love with hairdressing.

  Memphis looked at me puzzled. “I don’t get it, so how did you learn how to stitch someone up?”

  It is the part of my
life I wanted to forget. This is the part of my life that I wished didn’t exist. “This next part, I have only told one other time, to one other person, Jaxon. It was the beginning of the end of who I once was. It was the second time I died,” I started.

  “What? What do you mean, the second time you died?” Memphis asked sounding concerned.

  “The first time was the accident that killed my parents. I mean I was technically dead for two full minutes…” I said, making a bad joke trying to lighten the mood, “… but that’s not what I meant. The girl that got into the car with her parents that day ceased to exist, the orphan that left the hospital was an entirely different person.”

  There was no possible way that a person could go through something like that and not come out change.

  The second time the person I was, died, I was sitting at the bar in one of my uncle’s clubs, working my way through a plate of hot chips and gravy, this was something that I had done a hundred times before.

  The nightclub, ‘Scarlet’ was closed as it was about eleven in the morning. Travis, the manager, was floating around, getting ready for opening time.

  On that seemingly normal but spectacularly, life-altering day, my uncle dropped me off, I got my lunch and sat at the bar. I sipped on a cola while going over the books, sorting through invoices and paying wages. Travis came in a few times making sure that I didn’t need anything but mostly I was left alone.

  I had the club’s stereo system tuned to a classic rock station, the volume down low so I could concentrate but loud enough that the music filled the expansive space so that I didn’t feel so lonely. I was engrossed in my work when the service door banged open, followed by a grunting sound.

  “You okay Travis?” I called out, not looking up from my paperwork. No answer came. “Travis,” I called again sliding off the bar stool waking to the end of the bar. “Travis… Travis are you okay? Do you need a hand?”

  I made my way towards the staff only area when Travis stumbled through the service area door falling to the floor. He was covered in blood, deathly pale and breathing heavily.

  “Oh, my God, Travis what happened?” I cried, rushing forward to help.

  Travis, looked at me, fear in his eyes. Blood seeped from his mouth as he gurgled out, “run.”

  I knelt on the floor beside him trying to locate the source of all the blood. “What?” I asked confused.

  I didn’t have time to comprehend what he was saying or heed his warning for as soon as the question left my lips two men casually strolled through the door.

  “Well, well, well, looky what we got ‘ere,’” the smaller of the two said, in a heavily accented voice.

  “Donnie my good man, I do believe our day is looking up,” the other stated.

  Donnie and his friend both looked like they had just walked off the set of a Guy Richie gangster movie. The one called Donnie was wearing a cheap suit, the other a black and neon yellow Adidas tracksuit.

  There was no way that I would have put these two together; they were total opposites.

  Donnie looked like a middle-class office worker but sounded like a thug and tracksuit guy looked like a tough guy wannabe. With his gold chains and a baseball cap, but his accent and language belonged to a highly educated man.

  “Who… who are you?” I asked, my gaze flicking between the two men. “What do you want?”

  “We’re ‘ere to deliver a message, Love,” Donnie stated.

  “To whom?” I hissed.

  What the hell is going on? How the hell am I going to get out of here? Please, please for once be early. I prayed that the bar staff would come in and interrupt whatever this was.

  “Ya boss love,” Donnie continued. “Charlie boy ‘as been a bit naughty and we can’t let that slide, can we Chase?” He looked at the tracksuit guy.

  “Uncle Charlie? What did he do? What… what are you talking about?” I asked before I realized that I had just given my identity away.

  “Uncle Charlie ya say,” Donnie laughed. “Well, int’ this an interesting development,” he said extending out the words, giving them extra syllables.

  “On your feet, Miss,” Chase commanded.

  “Why?”

  “Because you will be coming with us,” he said matter-of-factly as if my agreement was a foregone conclusion.

  “I’m… I’m not going anywhere with you,” I stammered from my position on the floor.

  “Get ya ass up Bitch,” Donnie spat, grabbing me by the arm hauling me to my feet.

  “Get off!” I yelled, and I pulled and struggled to free myself from his grasp. “Let go of me!”

  “Wot, ya fink Chase?” Donnie enquired, ignoring my words and attempts to free myself, pulling me tightly against him. “Should we ‘ave some fun first?” He asked, his hot rancid breath fanned across my neck and cheek. A pudgy hand groped roughly at my breast, squeezing it painfully.

  “Get off me!” I screeched, slapping at his hand.

  Donnie spun me around quickly, tearing the strap of my dress, backhanding me across the face. Light sparked and burst behind my eyes, blood whooshing through my ears.

  “Struggle, girly,” Donnie laughed. “I like it when they struggle.”

  He backhanded me again with such force that I violently fell to the floorboards. I held a hand to my bruised and rapidly swelling cheek, looking at Travis for help.

  Chase lined Travis up as if he was a soccer player going for a penalty shot and Travis’s head was the ball. His sneaker connected with the side of his skull with a sickening crack.

  Travis was not going to be able to help me if he was even still alive. I knelt, cowering on the floor, listening to Chase and Donnie laughing and cheering each other as they continued to lay into Travis’s poor defenseless body. I prayed that if Travis was still alive that he wasn’t aware of what was going on.

  Once again, I was dragged to my feet and held against Donnie’s disgusting body.

  “I fink I’d prefer to exhaust ma energy on this bitch,” his hand slid down the front of my tunic dress, ripping the fabric further exposing my bra, squeezing my breast again before lowering his hand, cupping me roughly between my legs.

  “Please don’t,” I whimpered.

  “I’ll do wot I fuckn’ please, slut,” his fingers digging painfully into my flesh. “Ya can fank, Uncle Charlie for wot’s bout to ‘appen to ya,” he said, licking the side of my face.

  Donnie dragged his hand from between my legs catching the edge of my dress and began gradually pulling it up. Amid the horror that was occurring, I had a strange out-of-place thought and thanked God that I had decided to wear a pair of leggings, as it was a bit chilly when I left home.

  I remembered thinking at least there is another layer of clothing for him to get through.

  “Stop, p… please don’t do this,” I whimpered again, “don’t make me do this.”

  They both laughed at me. Chase stepped up to me. “And just what do you believe, you are going to be able to do, that could stop us?” he asked.

  I was looking him dead in the eye, answering flatly. “This.”

  I threw my head back and forward quickly, head-butting them both, the blow rattled my brain. But it had the desired effect of making Chase step back and forcing Donnie to let go of me.

  “Ya, fuckn’ Bitch!” Donnie bellowed, his words muffled by the blood pouring from his unmistakably broken nose.

  I sidestepped them both, moving back out of arms reach. Chase rubbed his forehead, his eyes blazing with pure rage, his perfect elocution dropped.

  “You’re fucking dead, you, stupid cunt!” He bellowed as he rushed me, like a raging bull.

  At the last moment, I spun, grabbing him by the back of his jacket, driving him head first in the bar. The glass that I had been drinking from toppled from the bar, smashing against the floor. Chase slumped to the ground, dazed.

  “What tha Fuck?” Shocked eyes fell on Chase’s collapsed form. “I’m gonna fuckn’ kill ya!” Donnie yelled, flicking his wrist, e
xtending a telescopic baton.

  What those two clowns didn’t know was that I was, I am, a second-degree black belt in three different forms of martial art and an expert in hand to hand combat, as well as weapons.

  It is not something that I like to publicize. Uncle Charlie didn’t even know. I studied martial arts to help channel the rage I felt when my parents died, and Davan left. After a while, I fell in love with it and kept studying because of the discipline and skill required.

  I love to figure things out, how they work. I would break down the movements and practice them over, and over again until I had them figured out. Until I knew how they worked and until I had them perfected.

  “We fought,” I told Memphis as he sat in stunned silence, listening. “It all happened so fast. I had never fought for real before. Obviously, I had to fight to pass the belt grading’s, but I had never fought like that. Street fighting, you know, down and dirty fighting. My Sensei always told me that I was a weapon and I was not to use my skills unless absolutely necessary and only as a last resort, walk away first, fight last.”

  “Donnie came at me, throwing a punch, I blocked and hit back. Right hooked him in the face, he was stunned for a while that a girl had hit him in the face.”

  I smirked, looking down at my balled-up fist, which still had the faintest shadow of a scar.

  “But he shook off his shock and came at me again and just kept coming. Chase managed to recover and re-joined in the fight.” I ran my hands through my hair, recommencing my pacing. “At that moment, it was like every emotion that I had pushed down, shoved aside, bottled up or ignored for the past six years came rushing forward and I unleashed.”

  I snuck a look at Memphis, expecting to see shock or disgust in his eyes but what I saw was anger. “You shouldn’t have had to do that. You shouldn’t have been left alone, you shouldn’t have had to fight to protect yourself,” he growled, and that’s when I realized that the anger wasn’t at me, it was for me, my heart leapt at his concern for me.

  “Honestly, I don’t remember much after my emotional time bomb went off. It’s like my memory of the fight is in fragments, like when you watch someone dance in a strobe light, you just get flickers of images. Punch. Kick. Elbow. Pain. Blood. Screaming.” I stopped pacing, flopping down on the end of the bed. “Sometime later, my uncle found me bloody and bruised, slumped against the bar. I was cradling Travis’s lifeless body with Donnie and Chase a few feet away bleeding out on the floor.”