Knack (Benjamin Brown Book 1)

by Tom Twitchel

  Forcing myself off the couch, I went back into my bedroom and started packing my backpack. Twenty minutes later, I was on the street headed for the bus stop. If I wasn’t going to have any fun, I may as well make some money. If I had been thinking more clearly, it might have occurred to me that going out in my current state of mind might not have been the smartest move.

  So much for thinking ahead.

  I wanted to avoid Canal Park because that’s where Maddy and I usually worked our act and there were a lot of people who looked forward to seeing us and talking with Maddy, so I took a bus to Rogers. I hadn’t been to Rogers Park in a long time and hoped that there would be a generous crowd. It wasn’t my favorite place to perform because it was heavily wooded and even on sunny days most of it was covered in shade. Typically, I tried to set up near the entrance or a food vendor, which they liked because we both made money. When I finally got set up, it was pretty late in the day but there were a lot of people. I set up near a bench in the deep interior of the park where three paths intersected and there was a lot of foot traffic. My attitude was edgier than usual, but it seemed to work. My illusions had evolved into some pretty impressive reveals that produced good tips and within a few hours, I had attracted a huge audience and emptied my cap over a dozen times.

  Frequent enthusiastic applause followed by fast flowing cash caused me to get a little greedy and before I knew it, the sun had started to set and the crowd of families had been replaced by couples and packs of guys and girls getting ready to start their Saturday night out on the town.

  After being asked several times to “Do one more,” I finally thanked everybody and started packing up my props. The crowd drifted away while a few people came forward to drop last minute tips into my hat. I was on my knees zipping up my backpack when I felt someone nudge me.

  “Niño, I thought I tol’ you no see you here.”

  A chill ran down my spine as I turned around. A broad brown face with teardrop tattoos glared at me—Oso.

  Standing up and trying not to shake, I said, “I’m sorry. I forgot.” How could I forget? What had I been thinking? Actually, I hadn’t been doing much thinking at all in my mental stupor on the bus. But it had been a long time. Why would he remember me and why would he care?

  “Oh. You forgot. So, I say somethin’ you don’ think I mean it? Donde esta su madre, niño?” His frown deepened. I looked for his girlfriend, but she wasn’t anywhere that I could see. What I could see were the three bangers that were milling around behind him.

  “She’s at home. I’m sorry. I won’t come back—ever.” My hands shook badly as I tried to sling my backpack over my shoulder.

  Oso reached out a hand and grabbed my backpack in midswing.

  “Hol’ on niño. How much you make today in my park?” He stood there holding my backpack at his side. What should I say? I knew lying to him would be a stupid move.

  “I did okay I guess. Please, just let me go. I won’t come back. I forgot. I’m really sorry.” My knees felt like they were about to buckle.

  Cocking an eyebrow, he tossed my backpack to one of his crew, who unzipped it and began going through it. I thought about running for maybe a second. My leg would bring that little maneuver to a quick unsatisfactory end.

  “You got a bad leg? Your eye bad too?” he asked while he looked me up and down.

  “Yeah. My leg is messed up. I can see okay; it just looks bad.” What was going to happen here? It had been a warm day, but I shivered and felt chilled to the bone.

  “Si, malo.” He looked at his friends and spoke rapidly to them in Spanish. I couldn’t follow all of it but it sounded like he was asking them what to do with me. One of them said, “He’s just a kid” while the one looking through my backpack told him how much cash I had collected.

  Turning to me, he raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Mucho dinero! You good, niño. Maybe I take my share y tu trabajar para mi.”

  “Work…for you? You told me not to come back. I’ll listen this time. I’ll s-stay away.” The acid in the back of my throat was building and I was certain that I was going to throw up. A crazy thought about spraying his shoes so I could get away rattled around in my head.

  “Easy niño. Easy. So, I give you dos opportunidades.” He held up two stubby fingers. “Uno, you give me fifty dollares y tu es… come atras en el… weekend y I take my cut. Dos, weellll, you don’ want numero dos.” His friends sniggered and nudged each other. The emotional buzzing from Oso and his crew was all over the board. Most of it was ugly, but I thought I sensed sympathy from one of them. It was giving me a headache.

  Swallowing hard, I struggled not to puke. My left knee kept shaking. “Sure. Whatever. Okay. Take it. Take all of it. I’m sorry.”

  Shaking his head, he smiled a crocodile smile at me. “No, no.” He rattled off some more rapid Spanish over his shoulder and the banger who had been riffling through my pack handed it to Oso, who handed it to me. “Jo esta su patron. You pay me.”

  I took the pack and almost dropped it; my hands were shaking badly because I was so scared. My fingers fumbled with the pack while I reached in and grabbed a wad of bills and offered them to Oso.

  Picking through the bills, he handed several back to me and stuffed the other bills in his pocket. “Solo fifty, niño. You need to watch your money. Maybe hire a bookkeeper.” His pack of friends laughed. Then he leaned forward.

  “So, la semana que viene, sí?”

  Heart pounding, I could barely answer him. “‘Kay.”

  “Bueno.” Looking over his shoulder at his posse he said, “Vamanos!”

  They strolled away, laughing.

  Standing tall, he casually sauntered after his pack, not bothering to look back. I was mad at myself, mad at forgetting his warning. But who knew he would remember some kid for so long? Mad and disgusted with myself for how pathetically I had reacted to the whole thing. Still shaking, I clumsily zipped my backpack shut and put it over my shoulder. There were times when I wanted to pat myself on the back for how I managed to get by. I made money, paid rent, bought food and took care of myself. Sometimes, I thought I was being all grown up. Oso and his cronies had just stripped all of that away and revealed me for what I was: a scared kid living on his own who didn’t know the first thing about protecting himself.

  Staggering over to a light pole, I bent over and threw up in the bushes. My head was spinning and I looked around uncertainly, embarrassed. The confrontation with Oso hadn’t taken much time, but the sun had completely dipped down behind the skyline. In a half hour, it would be full dark; I had lost track of the day and broken half the rules I had been so proud of putting together.

  I got my phone out and checked for messages. Zero. That made me even more depressed. Scanning the street for Oso and his gang, I was relieved to discover that they were long gone. Trying to man up, I struck out for the bus stop one block away. Even with Oso’s withdrawal, I had made pretty good money and then it hit me: he hadn’t asked where I lived. He would have no way of tracking me down if I avoided the park in the future. My shaky self-confidence started to settle down.

  Then I was jerked off my feet and slammed into a tree.

  “Hey there bitch.” Mike’s yellow-toothed smile grinned at me inches from my face.

  How could all of these people from my early days in Seattle all spill back into my life, one after the other? Based on how badly the attempted mugging in the alley had gone, I was sure Mike was going to really try to hurt me—bad. Panicking, I focused on his eyes, trying to project an illusion of them being closed, thinking that I might at least be able to confuse him.

  Then he slammed my head into the tree. Stars jumped around in front of my eyes.

  “No funny stuff tonight you little prick. Payback.”

  Another smack into the tree. I sagged. The streetlights began to blur and grow dim.

  “Uh uh. Don’t pass out!” A hard slap across the face made my eyes water.

  Holding me against the tree with one hand, he
roughly checked my pockets. Not finding a wallet there, he spun me around and shoved me against the tree face first. Pain flashed in my nose and I felt wet warmth spread over my mouth and chin. I slipped my hand into the pocket of my hoodie and hit the power button on my phone. I started randomly tapping the face of the phone, trying to send a call to anyone on my speed dial.

  He tore off my backpack with his free hand; I heard him unzip it and then start pawing through it.

  “That’s what I’m talking about.” I heard the pack being zipped closed again. A pause and then excruciating pain exploded in my lower back. I felt myself being turned around roughly and then something smashing into my face. My head snapped back and cracked into the tree. I fell to my knees and threw up again. My hands hung limply at my sides.

  “This is for cutting me!” An incredibly painful kick to my stomach knocked me onto my back. Barely able to see him leaning over me, I just wanted to close my eyes and go to sleep.

  “You didn’t know one of my buddies saw you in a park awhile back. I’ve been all over town hoping to run into you. I’m gonna stomp the…” My vision was blurred, but I seemed to see Mike jump sideways just as his shoe came crashing down on my head.

  Fortunately, at that moment, my brain decided I had suffered enough and turned out the lights.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Voices drifted in and out of my consciousness. I thought I heard my mom calling my name and Dennis’ footsteps on the stairs. Disjointed dreams faded in and out of my consciousness. Maddy’s face and Mr. Goodturn’s seemed to be floating just outside of my field of vision. Someone was crying, but I couldn’t tell who and I could hear one word being softly repeated over and over—love.

  When I finally came to and could focus for more than a minute, I opened my eyes and got scared. I couldn’t see. Then I realized that I could see some light, and then I figured out that my eyes were covered with a gauze bandage. Something was wrapped uncomfortably around my right hand. My left arm was restrained somehow. I couldn’t move it and the back of my left hand ached. I felt dopey, sleepy.

  It took me quite a while to piece together where I had been prior to waking up. The last thing I remembered clearly was that sleaze Mike throwing me up against a tree. After that, it was fuzzy but came back in small shards. Oso’s threat and extorting money from me floated to the surface. Where was my pack? And where the heck was I? Hospital for sure but I had no idea how I’d gotten there. Sharp metallic and chemical smells flooded my senses. My mouth was pasty. Dull pain spoke to me from several places that were hard to define. Then the beating came into hazy focus. Mike had been tuning me up, and then something about him jumping?

  I felt someone come into the room before I heard footsteps.

  Gentle hands lifted my right arm and wrapped it in something. The purr of a small motor came from the side of the bed and the wrapping on my arm got tight, then a hissing noise and it relaxed. Papers rustled and the nurse, or doctor, muttered under her breath. I could sense contentment and satisfaction coming from whoever it was.

  “I can tell you’re awake. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to; God knows you’ve been through a lot. But, I need to get a temperature reading, and since that bandage is covering your ears, it either goes into your mouth or in your…”

  “Hi,” I croaked.

  She laughed, deep and throaty.

  “Hi, yourself. You had everybody worried for a while, but it looks like you’re going to be good as new. Actually better than new.”

  “I feel great.” Sooo not true. My voice sounded strange to me.

  “That’s the morphine, which we’ve been stepping down. You’re a fighter. Okay, open wide, under the tongue.” More chuckling. She put the thermometer in my mouth.

  “How long have I been here?” I mumbled through my teeth. The light I could see through the gauze changed as she moved at the side of the bed.

  “A while. Are you thirsty?”

  “Mmm hmm. So how long?”

  The thermometer was pulled from my mouth. “That’s my man! Nice. I think your grandfather wants to tell you what’s been going on.”

  “My…? How long has he been here? Is my mom here too?” Who in the hell was she talking about?

  “I haven’t seen your mom, but your grandpa has been here almost every day since you came to us. He’s adorable. Everybody here loves him.”

  That couldn’t be my grandfather. My mom’s dad had passed away and Dennis’ dad was the definition of grumpy.

  “Open up again. I’m going to put a spoon with an ice chip in your mouth. Just suck on it. Don’t swallow it or bite down. Okay?”

  The ice slipped onto my tongue. The wet, melting coolness felt incredible.

  “Why are my eyes covered? And who are you? Are you my doctor?”

  Her deep laugh came again. Underneath it, I got a strong sense of who she was. She was good people, really good. “You’re definitely on the mend. Yep. You drew the short straw. I’m your surgeon. The nurse thought you were coming around and I wanted to check in on you myself. First, I want you to know you’re going to be fine. The bandages can probably come off today. We’ll take them off when your grandfather gets here later. Do you recall what happened to you?”

  “Yes. I got mugged in Rogers Park.”

  “Mugged? That doesn’t seem like a fair description. You were suffering from multiple issues. All of them have been successfully addressed, except for your leg.” She paused and I picked up a buzzing of worry from her. “How did you break your leg?”

  “It was a long time ago. I fell down some stairs.”

  “You fell down some stairs?” Hot anger and shadowy disbelief bubbled inside her.

  “I had some help—my dad. I don’t live with him anymore.”

  She was silent for a moment and I felt her hand on my arm. Soft and warm. She gave me a gentle squeeze.

  “Well, we couldn’t fix that this time, but I can refer you and your grandpa to a surgeon that could probably put that right too.” The relief in her voice was like a physical thing, strong, warm and solid.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Dr. Yoshizumi. Everyone here calls me Dr. Yosh.” She chuckled again.

  “I like it,” I said. “Can I call you that? Or is that disrespectful?”

  “You are such a gentleman! You, Mr. Brown, may call me whatever you prefer. After all the time we’ve spent together, you’re kind of like family.”

  “Call me Benny then, or Ben.”

  “Ben. You’re too much of a fighter for me to call you Benny.”

  “Can you tell me how much longer I’m going to be here?”

  Patting my arm, she took her hand away. “A least a few more days. We need you to get down some solid food and make sure all of your plumbing is working right.”

  “Dr. Yosh?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The next few days kind of ran together. An army of nurses, technicians and people with clipboards were in and out of my room constantly. My plumbing worked fine and I had no difficulty keeping food down. In fact, I was very hungry. The nurses that were attending to me were all pretty nice. One of them, Gary, confided in me that I had really lucked out having Dr. Yosh as my surgeon. “She’s the best. Skilled, and she really cares about all of her patients.”

  When the bandages came off, my “grandfather” was sitting next to the bed. Before I could speak, he held a finger to his lips. Two huge fishy-looking eyes stared out at me from behind thick glasses.

  “There you are. Take it slow Benny. We’ve all been worried about you,” said Mr. Goodturn.

  I had been pretty sure he was the mystery “grandpa” but seeing him laid to rest my nagging worry that I was going to see Dennis and my real grandfather when the bandages came off.

  It was easy to play along and let everyone think he was my real grandpa. All of the medical staff joked with him and called him by his first name, Harald. The basic medical
insurance that I had never gotten was going to leave uncovered bills to pay. Mr. Goodturn, my guardian angel through my entire medical odyssey, had arranged to take care of that.

  As my only present family member, Mr. G gave me the rundown on my hospitalization with Dr. Yosh filling in the blanks. She was beautiful. She had a round face, olive skin, short, glossy black hair and large almond-shaped brown eyes. She told me that my recovery had taken two months. I’d been in an induced coma initially because of head trauma and dangerous swelling of my brain. I had also suffered a broken rib, two more had been cracked, a punctured lung, a broken nose, two black eyes, a serious wound to my left eye and the icing on the nasty cake…a lacerated kidney. Mike had apparently stabbed me in addition to beating the crap out of me. All of the staff on my floor at the hospital had sort of adopted me and taken a keen interest in my convalescence. The news surrounding the attack had been a big deal but thanks to Mr. Goodturn and my status as a minor, my name and picture hadn’t been released to the media.

  But the most unsettling news, from my point of view, had nothing to do with my injuries or the length of my hospital stay.

  My blind manipulation of my phone had resulted in a phone call to Mr. Goodturn who had, in turn, called 911. Thank God for GPS and smartphone apps. When the police and the ambulance had arrived, they had found Mike draped over my body—dead.

  He’d been stabbed and had bled out. My backpack had been recovered and all of my tips from the day’s performance had been in there. The police had been thoroughly confused, but the one thing that had been clear was that Mike had been my attacker. His prints were on the knife that had penetrated my backside and my DNA had been all over his hands and shoes. The image of Mike being jerked sideways kept playing through my mind, but I couldn’t make any sense of it. It seemed obvious that somebody had come to my rescue, who and why was a mystery, but there was no doubt that I owed that person my life. The fact that my pack hadn’t been taken was another unexplained variable. There had been a few hours where the police had theorized that I had killed Mike, but my injuries, my size and the nature of his death pretty much blew that dumb idea out of the water.