Jack: Grime and Punishment (The Brothers Grime Book 1)

by Z. A. Maxfield

  From the way Jack and Ryan looked at each other, they were making something work. He’d take their advice and remind Kelly Ann that even while he was up to his eyeballs in crime scenes and disapproving in-laws, he remembered exactly why he’d fallen in love with her.

  He owed it to her, even if he had to stretch everything in him to do it.

  Bloody footsteps gave Skippy his next best idea ever.

  He was laying down a layer of antimicrobial spray over the unfortunate scene of a terrible domestic battle that ended in murder, and he wasn’t really thinking about anything in particular, except maybe he wished people wouldn’t hurt each other so goddamn much. And then he saw it. A macabre sort of pattern that looked almost like a dance.

  He followed the footprints with his eyes. If he used his imagination like detectives did when they were studying a crime scene, he could reconstruct how the combatants had moved around the apartment. Except for the blood spatter, they could have been dancing.

  Would Kelly Ann enjoy dancing?

  She watched all those shows on TV. Sometimes he caught her moving with the vacuum when she thought no one was looking. She hummed, and even beneath the sound of the machine he was so in tune with her, he usually knew the song. She liked old school music. Or Latin tunes, where she could go to town, shaking her hips.

  If he caught her at it, he usually took over the chore and she’d act all shy and embarrassed that he saw. Maybe that was a little fantasy world he had no part in. But maybe he could learn to be her partner.

  He knew just the guy to ask about that, even if he had to swallow a boatload of pride.

  After he finished cleaning and restocking the van, Skippy entered the office and knocked on Eddie’s door jamb.

  Eddie sat in a fancy leather office chair big enough for his muscled frame. He held up a finger while he finished looking at something on his phone before waving Skippy in.

  “You got a minute?” he asked.

  “Sure.” Eddie sat back. “What’s on your mind?”

  “I thought of something else. I know it’s a big ask.” Skippy took the seat opposite, which was smaller and made him feel like he was in the principal’s office. “I’m hoping maybe it’s not too much.”

  ”I won’t know until I hear it.”

  Skippy blew out a breath and forced himself to say it. “Could you maybe teach me a couple dance moves?”

  “That’s it?” Eddie’s lips curved into a smile. “I love dancing.”

  “That’s what Kim said. She said you’ve got all kinds of slick moves.”

  “She’s seen me?” Eddie wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. “Probably on the Fourth of July last year, huh? Too much cerveza, I guess.”

  “She said you were great.”

  “When would you want to do this? We can go out into the warehouse and crank up some tunes. I can’t make you a superstar overnight, but I can keep you from geeking out.”

  “That sounds great. I really appreciate this. The only thing is…” Man, this was going to be tough. But for Kelly Ann, he’d do anything.

  “What?”

  “I want to learn those couple dances. Like on Dancing With the Stars.”

  “Ballroom?”

  “Can you teach me that?”

  “Theoretically”—Eddie frowned—"I could teach you the moves to a couple types of dances, but it’s complicated. You can’t just wing it.”

  “Think it’s too tough?”

  “Nah. We’ll figure it out. Nothings too tough for us, right?”

  “That’s just you being all positive and shit, right?”

  “Yeah, kinda.” Eddie smirked.

  “If I learn one move where I can spin her around, I’m in. I want to make her feel like one of those Disney princesses, even though she got the frog.”

  “You’re no frog, Skip. We can do this. It’ll be like coaching your first wedding dance. Did you do that?”

  Skippy shook his head. “We got married at the courthouse on account of her mom was real pissed at the time.”

  “I see.”

  “Kelly Ann deserved a wedding with a band and bridesmaids. She says it’s fine, but I know her. There were a lot of things I couldn’t give her before that I can now, and I just want…” He let the words die. Of course, he wanted. Kelly Ann was the perfect woman—the perfect wife—and he was pretty sure he’d die believing he didn’t deserve her. Instead of saying the words and getting all choked up, he stood. “So if you could, that’d be awesome.”

  “Let’s get started now.” Eddie rose. “You got time now?”

  Skippy nodded. “They don’t hold dinner for me because I’m never home at the same time.”

  “I know it’s long hours. If you ever need a break—”

  “We’re saving for a house, so I need all the work you can give me.”

  “Okay, well. If you ever need time, we’re happy to accommodate you. You’re a valuable employee, Skippy. We couldn’t do this without you.”

  Skippy had heard those words before but this time he believed them. This time, he knew he wasn’t going to get a knife in his back if he made a mistake.

  “I’ll meet you out there.” Skippy ducked his head and hurried to the warehouse so Eddie could try to make a dancer out of him.

  It wasn’t going to be easy. He was built more for busting heads than for waltzing. He was Beast to Kelly Ann’s Beauty. If he could dance one tenth as good as the cartoon character, he’d call it a win.

  Eddie followed him out, head down, scrolling through playlists on his phone. There were Bluetooth speakers outside so they could have music when they worked on the vans. Mostly only Eddie and Gabe bothered, but when they did, the work seemed to go faster.

  The speakers came to life on a latin station. Salsa music filled the massive building.

  “That sound about right?” Eddie asked.

  “Yeah. Kelly Ann likes this music.” Skippy rubbed his arms where goosebumps made his anxiety visible.

  “Salsa is great because it’s fun and you can make endless combinations out of a few basic steps. You ready to try it?”

  “You really think I can do this?”

  “I know you can. It’s just fancy walking. I promise.”

  Skippy wasn’t so sure. “All right.”

  “Stand next to me and listen to the music. Hear that?” Eddie paused to let him listen. “I want you to listen and count to eight, like this: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.”

  “Okay.”

  “Keep counting in your head and watch me.” Eddie moved. “I go forward then back together. Back then forward together. I pause on together.”

  As Skippy watched it seemed to make sense. Dancing really was like walking. Step forward, back, pause, step back, forward pause.

  Before he knew it, he was doing the move. They started on the left, step forward, step back, pause. The with the right, step back, step forward, pause.

  That wasn’t so hard. Why did he think this was going to be so hard?

  “Let’s do that step for a while. Get a feel for the music.” Eddie smirked. “You can get your hips involved, you know. It’s not supposed to be feet moving with a wooden body stuck on top.”

  Eddie got his hips involved. Then he used his whole body. He drew attitude around him like a bullfighter’s cape. Skippy didn’t know if he could swagger like that, but he tried to at least loosen up. He stopped looking at his feet. Let the move become natural to him. By the third song, he had it. Maybe he even sold it a little.

  Eddie grinned at him. “Okay. Now, you learn to turn your girl.”

  “What’s she doing while I’m doing all this?”

  “We’ll get to that later, once you have the steps. Basically, you’re going to lead her. How you touch her will tell her how to move.”

  “Okay.” That sounded pretty nice actually. He’d like to spin her around until she was dizzy, like in the movies. Maybe they could put the vacuum aside and dance at home, too. “Show me.”

>   Skippy learned to turn. It was the same, really. Only where you put your feet was different. In fact, it was pretty easy. Eddie was a great teacher. He made it fun. They laughed so loud Gabe came out of his office to see what all the noise was about.

  Once he knew what they were doing, Gabe got in on the action. He executed his own moves, copping an attitude similar to Eddie’s only Gabe flung his head when he moved and his curly hair, damp from their exertions, flopped comically into his eyes. He also did faces—mock serious, snooty, over the top expressions. Sometimes he looked like a model even though he acted like a clown.

  When Skippy caught a glance of himself in the window of one of the vans, he looked almost giddy. He froze, feeling extremely weird all of a sudden. He’d spent a lifetime projecting one personality—badass. Happy people were so vulnerable. Could he allow anybody to see him that way?

  Maybe, for Kelly Ann.

  After an hour they shut the party down. It killed him that he couldn’t show Kelly Ann what he’d learned, but he had to save his new skill for a surprise. He wanted to give her a big reveal, like on the TV show. He wanted the moment to be perfect.

  Like his dance attitude, he gathered patience around him. He could wait.

  Kelly Ann deserved the best surprise ever.

  A week later, Eddie told him it was time to work with a partner. Skippy dreaded this part. Somehow, he had to imagine dancing with his wife while Eddie stood in for her.

  Hard enough holding a dude, although he could do a lot worse than Eddie Vasquez, for sure. It was the fact that Eddie was as big as him that was the problem. They couldn’t stop laughing.

  Gabe got in on the action. He took a seat in the corner as they tried, and failed, to dance together.

  “Be serious,” Eddie ordered.

  “I’m trying, but it’s weird.”

  “How do you think I feel, letting your tattooed ass lead like this?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Again.” Eddie let go so they could start over. “Don’t forget to signal me where we’re going.”

  “Okay. But take a hint, because you keep trying to lead.”

  “That’s our Eddie,” said Gabe. “I’m not sure he knows how to follow.”

  “Shut it, Gabe.” Eddie winced when he started off on the wrong foot. “Sorry, Skip. Habit. Let’s go again.”

  They tried again and got through one of the turns.

  “Well, well, well.” Dave stood beneath the warehouse door they’d rolled up to get some air. “What have we here? Dancing with the felons?”

  “Shit.” Skippy missed his footing. “See what you made me do?”

  Dave asked, “What on earth—”

  “None of your business, Dave.” Eddie spoke mildly, but firmly.

  “Show’s over, Detective. Move along.” Skippy wanted to fall through the floor and die.

  “Oh, no, no, no. I’ve got to see this.” Dave sauntered into the warehouse like he owned the place. He didn’t, but since he threw some business their way, he stuck his nose in all the time and nobody said anything.

  “I should have known you’d find out about this,” Skippy muttered.

  “Don’t let him mess with you,” said Eddie. “You’ve got this.”

  “You’re learning to dance for your big romantic weekend?” asked Dave.

  Skippy sighed. “Maybe.”

  “Knock it off, Dave,” said Gabe.

  “I’m not even doing anything,” Dave insisted.

  Gabe pushed a second chair Dave’s way. “Except acting like a dumbass kid. Sit down and shut up. He’s trying to do something nice for someone he loves. Take a lesson, will you?”

  Dave shut his mouth, but his expression remained stubborn. He hadn’t gotten over Jack finding Ryan, yet. Skippy wasn’t supposed to know about that.

  “Again, Skippy. Don’t pay any attention to them. Signal me when you want me to turn.”

  They went again, and again, and again.

  Sweat dotted his forehead and dampened his T-shirt.

  He did okay, but stayed clunky and self-conscious with Gabe and Dave watching. Every so often, Eddie stepped off with the wrong foot. They’d laugh it off because the problem was his size and his bulk and his tendency to lead. There was no help for that.

  Eddie pulled away. “You need earth-moving equipment to get me to spin. Sorry.”

  “I think it’s me.”

  “I wish we had more time.”

  The big weekend was coming so fast. He’d barely learned the basics of the salsa and the rhumba. He could hold his own alone. But he wasn’t ready for partner dancing and they both knew it.

  “Let’s try again,” said Skippy.

  He took Eddie’s left hand in his and placed his right on Eddie’s back. They waited for a good starting place in the song, and both stepped forward with their left legs at the same time.

  “Ow.” Skippy was glad for his steel toed boots.

  “I’m sorry.” Eddie stepped back. “So sorry. Why can’t I do this backwards? It’s like I’m just—”

  “Stop, stop, stop.” Dave stood and removed his suit jacket. “This is painful to watch.”

  “What are you gonna do about it?” Skippy turned unhappily. If the man was going to sit there, making cracks…

  “I’m going to take his place, Skippy,” Dave said mildly.

  “You what?” asked Eddie.

  Gabe’s mouth fell open.

  “I can dance.” Dave rolled up his sleeves. “I’m smaller than you. You guys seem to think this is a worthy cause, ergo—”

  “I’m not dancing with you.” Skippy’s fists clenched.

  “Afraid I’ll cop a feel?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I just don’t want to hear about it for the rest of my life.”

  “Look, you want to learn or not?” asked Dave. “I can do this. Forward, backward, standing on my head. I’m a good dancer. Afraid to give it a shot?”

  “Since when?” Gabe still had that stunned look on his face.

  Dave sent a frosty look his way. “You don’t know everything about me.”

  “All right.” Skippy capitulated before he could change his mind. And then just to take the high road, he said, “Thanks for the offer.”

  “My pleasure.” Dave glared as if it was anything but.

  Instead of worrying why Huntley would offer if he didn’t want to help, Skippy kept the image of Kelly Ann in his mind. Dinner by candlelight. Wine and fine food. An hour or two of dancing, where he could show off how hard he’d worked for this.

  He took Dave’s surprisingly soft hand in his left and put his right hand on Dave’s back, just like he had Eddie’s.

  Dave took a half step forward. “I don’t bite, Skippy.”

  “Just making room for the long arm of the law, Detective.”

  Dave’s lips twitched. “You can begin any time now.”

  On the beat, Skippy stepped forward, then back, performing each step of his combination just like Eddie taught him.

  One thing was clear right away: Dave was light on his feet. He followed well too. With very little coaxing, they were making turns. Dave spun when Skippy directed him. They got through one set of steps and Skippy stopped, breathless, anticipating some snide remark that didn’t happen.

  “Not bad.” Dave tilted his head. “Go again?”

  Without speaking, they went three more times. Skippy decided to change the order of the steps and turn when he wanted. He spun Dave while he executed a sideways move of his own, and Dave easily followed.

  When they were done, Skippy’s forehead ran with sweat. The problem wasn’t the exertion, it was Huntley, who remained cool and unflappable—as if he salsa danced with guys like Skippy every day.

  Skippy ignored the tingling sense of danger. He’d said he wanted to learn to dance, and if this was how he had to do it, so be it.

  Eddie stood by, watching. “You’re doing great, Skippy. How does it feel?”

  Skippy glanced between him and Dave. On the one hand,
he wanted to say it felt awesome. On the other, there was Huntley, and he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “It’s…good.”

  “Is that the only dance you’re learning?” Dave asked. “Salsa?”

  “He learned the rhumba, but—”

  “Let’s do that then.” He met Skippy’s gaze. “That’s the dance of love.”

  Gabe said, “Jesus, Dave. What the fuck are you up to?”

  “Nothing. For God’s sake. Why can’t I help without having ulterior motives?”

  “Because you’re normally an asshole?” Eddie offered.

  “Me?” Dave had given Skippy shit since he came aboard Brothers Grime, but now he looked genuinely hurt. “I’m a nice guy.”

  “Not to me.” Skippy said quietly. “And I get why, but—”

  “Well, yeah. You tick all my boxes. You wear a story on your skin, Skippy.”

  “Well this is a new chapter.”

  “So you tell everybody.” He let the words fall between them while holding Skippy’s gaze. “But. You’re important to my friends. That makes you important to me. Don’t let us down.”

  As if he’d let them down. As if he’d do a single thing to hurt the men who’d given him a fresh start, who’d become almost as important to him as his family. Skippy’s throat hurt.

  Now he had to include Dave Huntley in that group. Shit.

  Huntley was a smartass. From what Skippy saw, he could be kind of a dick with his lovers, since he didn’t want to admit he was with them out loud.

  Turned out, Skippy’d dance with the devil himself for Kelly Ann.

  Hiding his own smile, he prepared to rhumba with Dave.

  Eddie could teach him the steps, but it took Dave for him to finally learn to dance. Plus, putting Dave through all those dance moves almost satisfied Skippy’s suppressed desire to shove his head through a wall.

  They were good together, and he knew it. If he had ever liked dudes…

  Hell no. He wasn’t going there at all.

  They stopped when he had gone through enough songs that he felt comfortable he could repeat his success with Kelly Ann.

  “Thanks.” He couldn’t help it. He saw Dave with fresh eyes. Maybe he was one of the good guys, after all.