Quills and Daggers - A Second Chance at Love Romance: The Collective - Season 1, Episode 5

by Chris Genovese

  The Godfather, as in the movie. That’s what he wanted. Suddenly I got it. He wasn’t a member of a street gang and he probably wasn’t a boxer. He thought he was Mafioso. The thought made me laugh. He probably bragged to his buddies about how connected he was. I knew guys like him in the joint. But in there, even the smallest wrongful claim could get you stuck and tossed over the railing. I saw it happen once right outside my cell. The aggressor spit on the dead inmate, I mean hocked a loogie right on his bloody corpse, and turned to look at me. He pointed the shiv right at me and said words I’ll never forget. “You don’t enter this life. You are born into it.”

  He didn’t have to tell me to keep my mouth shut. I wouldn’t say a fucking peep and he knew it. Besides, he was one of Tamburelli’s men. Tamburelli and I weren’t pals by any means, but we had a mutual respect for each other. I was good at keeping secrets and because of it, he kept me safe. If I hadn’t been so keen to seal my lips, he would’ve gotten years added to his sentence, and I would’ve ended up on the receiving end of one of those balcony swan dives.

  “I know what you mean,” I said about the tattoo. “What would you like to be controlling?”

  “The fuck does that mean?” his chubby buddy asked. “You being disrespectful?”

  I said I was good at keeping my lips sealed, when they’re already closed, but not so good at keeping my mouth shut when it wants so badly to open.

  “Am I talking business with your boy?” I asked the chubby one. “Or are you gonna fucking interrupt us again?”

  He stepped forward but Davey put a hand on his chest. I hadn’t realized Kevin was standing too until the pretty girl looked over my shoulder nervously.

  “What you mean controlling?” Davey asked.

  “I mean, your puppet master control bar,” I said holding my hand out in front of me with my thumb and pinky out and the rest of my fist closed. I gave it a little shake as if I were controlling something with my hand. “You want the strings to drop off and not be connected to anything? Or do you want it to be connected to a soldier of some sort, like your general over here?”

  I was talking about the chubby guy again but this time he kind of nodded and smiled. It seemed he liked being referred to as a general. I hadn’t meant to compliment him but if it cut the tension in the room even slightly, it was alright by me.

  “I like that,” Davey said. “Soldiers. Yeah. Let’s do that.”

  He pointed at his girlfriend and pulled her into his embrace, squeezing her hard against his body.

  “And my girl wants one of them hearts with mine and her initials in it, like somebody might carve into a tree, you know what I’m sayin’?”

  I knew what he was saying but the look on his girl’s face told me she wasn’t completely sold on the idea. Now, I could’ve skipped the question I asked next, but I felt the need to save her from making this decision that would last a lifetime. It was pretty clear to me these two weren’t going to be living a long life of happiness together so getting his initial on her body was stupid. She looked terrified though so it was up to me to save her pretty ass.

  “Quick question,” I said. “Standard question I ask everyone who comes in this late in the evening. How much have you had to drink?”

  “Clearly not enough!” the Spanish dude yelled while patting Davey on the back.

  “Maybe we should go,” the cute girlfriend said as she pulled softly on Davey’s arm.

  This time, as I studied her face a little more closely, I saw that she was older or perhaps more tired than her body portrayed. She’d either been through a lot in her life or was still going through a lot. I couldn’t help wondering why she was with such a knucklehead.

  “How much I had to drink ain’t none of ya damn business,” Davey announced.

  Kevin stepped forward and this time I held a hand out to stop him. He halted and waited for my word to let him off his leash.

  “Your boy looks a bit antsy,” Davey said.

  “You gonna raise up, playa?” the Spanish dude said to Kevin.

  “He’s cool,” I said. “He’s just a little overprotective.”

  “Need to tell him to put his punk ass back in his chair,” Davey said, “Before I put him in it myself.”

  I closed my eyes for a second to settle my nerves. Nikki’s hand touched my shoulder and again I was transported to our childhood.

  Kevin sat on the ground with his back against one of the school walls. He sat hugging his legs, rocking back and forth while a group of wannabe thugs circled around him and teased him about his stutter. For the first time, his aggressive side didn’t kick in and instead he cupped his hands over his ears as they taunted him with evil jeers like, “Get up, retard!” and “Wh…wh…what’s the matter with you, you braindead faggot.”

  I’d been walking off to the side with Nikki when I heard the shouts. One of the boys saw me coming and stepped out of the circle to stop me. A switch inside me flipped and I blacked out. I don’t remember anything except squatting down to hug Kevin. Two boys lay on the ground, clutching their stomachs, one cried out and held his eye, and the other two ran away. Nikki had seen it all. She knew what I was capable of. And she’d seen what Kevin was capable of.

  There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that my brother and I could take this gang of punks. But we weren’t kids anymore. Violence wasn’t the answer. Plus, getting into a confrontation inside the shop could cause all kinds of damage I didn’t want to pay for. These pieces of shit definitely weren’t worth the hassle.

  “Kevin, it’s okay,” I said. “Have a seat. They were just leaving.”

  “Leaving?” Davey said. “Bitch, I ain’t leaving till I get my tat on my arm.”

  Clearly the guy wasn’t thinking straight because sitting in a chair while I went to work with a needle is no good place to be when I’m pissed off. Still, I knew I needed to get the guys out of my shop before something bad happened. So I called in my enforcer.

  “Hey, Chunk, you back there?” I yelled.

  “Yeah, gimme a minute,” our other partner’s deep phlegmy voice replied. “I’m workin’ on some fine details.”

  “Thing is, big guy, we work by appointment for a reason,” I said to Davey. “It prevents intoxicated people from making poor choices. We don’t tattoo anyone who’s been drinking.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Davey said.

  “Davey, come on,” the pretty girl said.

  Finally Chunk walked into the room. Roy was his real name but being an ex-biker, a member of the Iron Claw MC, he picked up the name Chunk somewhere along the line and he couldn’t have been fitted with a better label. He was huge, maybe 6’5” and had to weigh over 300 pounds. His hair was long and curly which matched his beard perfectly. He wore old Harley Davidson T-shirts and blue jeans and never seemed to change his uniform. All of him reeked of cigarette smoke. Chunk wasn’t a pretty sight to look at but he was loyal, tough as nails, and didn’t take any shit.

  “What’s the problem in here?” he asked.

  “What’s our policy on drunk customers?” I asked.

  “They can take a hike,” he said. “Come back when the sauce wears off and they know what the fuck they’re gettin’ themselves into.”

  Davey stepped toward Chunk like he was contemplating fighting him.

  “You really wanna go there?” Chunk said to Davey, standing his ground.

  “You know who I am?” Davey said.

  “Were you on one of those singing shows?” Chunk said. “You were on that one, right? You tried out but didn’t make it? Sang one of them Antoine Iglesias songs?”

  “Enrique Iglesias?” I asked.

  “Something like that,” Chunk said.

  “You’re a funny dude,” Davey said without cracking a smile. “I got family though. We take care of things.”

  Which family he was talking about, I wasn’t sure. Was it a gang? Was it a car club? Or did he mean something much larger like FAMILY as in he really was mob connected? No mafia members I knew would
ever waste time getting involved with a ridiculous dispute at a tattoo parlor. Then again, the newer Mafia was much more reckless than the elegant gangsters of the good old days. Now, instead of sit downs with a respectful assassination of one disrespectful wise guy, these youngsters would do stupid shit like a drive-by on a house, regardless of whether or not the guy’s family was inside. Somehow I couldn’t imagine these guys being involved in anything seriously sinister. They were more like the grown up versions of playground bullies.

  “He’s got family,” Chunk said while looking over at me.

  I’d never fuck with Chunk and I was probably better able to handle myself than this lowlife punk. Chunk’s scars served as a reminder that he was not someone to fuck with. Two bullet holes, three knife wounds, the left side of his body melted from an asphalt drag on his bike, and a fractured skull were only some of his souvenirs from the rougher days. And if anyone had family, it was definitely Chunk. Once a brother in the club, always a brother in the club.

  “Come back another time,” I told Davey. “When you haven’t been drinking.”

  “Or not at all,” Chunk called out.

  Davey backed away toward the door.

  “Fuck y’all and your shop,” Davey said. “I’ll be back, and when I do come back, I’ma drive a Cadillac through your front window.”

  The rest of the group followed him out, each shouting profanities of some sort. The only one who remained pleasant was the pretty girl. She flashed me a sad, apologetic smile, as if she were responsible for her douchebag boyfriend’s behavior.

  “Exciting night,” Nikki said, after Davey and his drunken flock hooted and hollered on their way out the door.

  “Oh this was nothing,” I said. “Just last week Chunk got a lap dance by two strippers wanting discounts on their ink.”

  Nikki looked over at Chunk who smiled and nodded his head. He flashed her a nearly toothless grin.

  “Epic,” he said.

  “Sorry I missed that,” Nikki said. “Maybe it’s a bad time. I can come back and we can discuss things later.”

  “I’d love to have you here,” I said. “I’ll get a station ready for you by tomorrow. You might wanna go ahead and start drawing up some ideas for your friend and get the appointments going.”

  Nikki half-smiled and I knew that was as good of a smile as I was likely to get out of her. Her ability to suppress feelings had always amazed me.

  “You wanting to do this full time or…” I began but was cut off.

  “No, no. I wish I could,” she said. “But I work nights as a dispatcher at Swift Fleet. So…part time for now if that’s okay.”

  “It’s fine,” I said.

  “Thank you, James,” she said as she moved in for a hug.

  I wrapped my arms around her.

  “I go by Ivory now,” I told her.

  “Ivy?” she said. “Like Poison Ivy?”

  “Ivory, like the soap. It’s…it’s a nickname I picked up.”

  “Hmm…” she said, turning it over in her mind. “Ivory. Okay, I can live with that.”

  Behind us, Kevin had returned to his seat and had begun whistling one of the tunes I’d become so familiar with over the years. Mrs. Rebecca had taught him to whistle nursery rhymes and children’s songs to help him calm his nerves whenever he was stuttering too badly. Since then, he’d taken to whistling them all the time, especially in moments of high tension. It did nothing for his stutter but did seem to calm his nerves. Mrs. Rebecca had been a master at helping Kevin relax. She’d taught him a lot.

  I’d hoped Nikki would stick around but she seemed in a hurry to leave so we said our goodbyes. She was at the door when she suddenly spun around and looked at me with her head cocked to one side. She scrunched up a corner of her mouth and fixed her gaze on Kevin.

  “It’s been so long since I heard you whistle like that, Kevin,” she said.

  “I s…s…still do s…sometimes,” he said.

  “Hmm,” she said, looking down at her feet for a second. She looked back up at Kevin and said, “Were you out last night? Near Calypso’s? The bar?”

  “I d…don’t go there,” he said. “It’s a g…g…gay bar isn’t it?”

  Nikki burst out in laughter.

  “Ha! Excellent observation,” she said. “I don’t think it’s gone full homosexual but it’s well on its way. The music has definitely raced ahead of the clientele. The staff’s about halfway there.”

  Nikki blew us both a kiss like she had so many times as kids. She kissed her palm, blew it out, then traced a heart with both hands and shoved it at us as if pushing a large inflatable heart in our direction. It had been her trademark move and I couldn’t help but feel the same butterflies she caused at such a young age. Back then she’d been as innocent as she could be given the hand she’d been dealt. Now, after so many years, I knew she’d been in many relationships and none had worked out.

  As much as I didn’t want to see her this way, I wondered if she’d dabbled in drugs at all throughout her journey. Most kids who leave home at the early age she did end up getting involved with the lifestyle. I’d tried to keep tabs on her but I lost her for too long. Where she was and who she was with were a complete mystery to me.

  Nikki walked out of the Motor Quill that night and left me standing in much the same way I’d been before she’d entered, looking out the window, listening to my brother whistle.

  About an hour later, when the shop was finally cleaned up, Kevin slipped off into the night to do whatever it was Kevin did. He claimed he had a girlfriend living in Nob Hill. I’d never met her and doubted she existed. Kevin wasn’t the dating type. If anything, he’d probably taken up a part time gig tattooing elsewhere and didn’t want me to know about it. That or he was hanging out in strip clubs. It wouldn’t be the first time he blew his money on something like that.

  Seeing Nikki had my head in a tailspin and I knew going home to watch Netflix would only result in wasted time with old memories. No, home wasn’t on the agenda. I needed a drink. Close by was Red’s, a place I frequented often. It was a local biker hangout. A lot of our serious clientele came here to drink and I liked being around friends. In a strange way, the place reminded me of being in the joint, and although I’d never say I missed being on the inside, I did miss a few good friends.

  As I pushed through the doors, I was hit with the familiar sound of one of my favorite songs, Vehicle by Ides of March.

  “Red!” I hollered as I pushed my way through the doors.

  Red was busy at the bar, not pouring drinks, but keeping an eye on things. He knew the most important rule of bar ownership. Be present. When you’re not, your staff will rip you off, serve their friends free drinks, and all kinds of other stupid shit goes on. None of that happened at Red’s.

  “Ivory, brother,” he said back to me, running a hand through his thick beard. “Chunk right behind you?”

  “I don’t know where that big bastard is,” I said. “I stopped trying to keep tabs on him a long time ago. You’d be wise to do the same.”

  “I can’t stop keeping tabs on him!” Red yelled. “He needs to fucking finish this!”

  He turned over his arm and showed off his forearm, where Chunk had put the beginning stages of a Johnny Cash standing in a ring of fire tattoo. It was going to be a real piece of art. Chunk was one of the best at realistic ink. I was more into the traditional stuff while Kevin, well, Kevin was pure genius. He could do just about anything but he was a master at 3D art. He could take the earth and show you the clouds above it, a satellite hovering in space, and the stars beyond.

  I pulled up a stool and took a seat at the bar.

  “Pearl around?” I asked.

  She was my favorite waitress. Not only was she pretty to look at, but she made sure my drinks were strong and not watered down the way some of the bartenders liked to do it.

  “I think she bailed on me,” he said. “She hasn’t been to work in about a week.”

  “Kevin’s gonna be disapp
ointed,” I said. “He just finished some work on her. A nice spider on her shoulder. It’s fucking wicked.”

  “She had mommy and daddy issues,” Red said. “Dutch was her old man but even he says he ain’t seen her. Says she probably went home to her parents in the hills. You can try to outrun your money but at some point, when life gets hard, the sweet life will always call you home.”

  “Red’s Wednesday night wisdom?” I joked. “You’re like Mr. Miyagi but the old white man version.”

  He laughed from the belly, I mean wholeheartedly, and I loved him for it. Red had the ability to scare the shit out of you one minute and bring you a sense of peace and tranquility the next.

  “Maybe I need to start putting Bonzai trees along the bar!” he yelled.

  “You do!”

  Red tensed up and peered beyond me, over at the door, and I knew trouble was brewing.

  “This ain’t a place for that kind,” Red said.

  “What kind?” I asked.

  Before he could answer, I knew what he meant. The slurred voice calling out from over my shoulder told me all I needed to know. The “family man” had entered the bar with his goons and they were making their way toward me.

  “Look who it is,” yelled the voice from behind me.

  I turned on my stool to see Davey, even drunker than before and from the looks of it, high too, with his gang of misfits at his sides. His girlfriend clutched his arm and tried to pull him away. God, she was a looker. She would’ve been one of the popular cheerleaders in high school, I was sure of it, but I bet long after that she’d lost that confidence she once possessed. Nobody with the angelic glow she possessed should have self-esteem issues.

  “Funny seeing you here,” I said.

  “You’re the asshole who wouldn’t give me a tattoo,” he replied.

  “You were drunk. You still are,” I said.

  “You definitely are,” his chubby friend said.

  “Pussy ass motherfucker ain’t got your fat ass friend to back you up now, do you?” Davey asked. “Looks like it’s just you and me this time.”