Kulti

by Mariana Zapata

  Unbuckling his seatbelt, he gave me another look still clearly insulted that I had assumed he was getting cosmetic surgery earlier. “I saw their work in a magazine.”

  That was all the information he gave me. All right.

  We got out of the car and made our way toward the door inscribed with ‘Pins and Needles’ in classy simple font. Kulti reached forward and opened it. In the back of my head, I’d figured the German wouldn’t have chosen some seedy place where you’d probably get crabs if you sat on the toilet, so I wasn’t surprised by how clean and modern-looking the tattoo parlor was. Heavy metal played softly in the background.

  A redheaded man was sitting behind the black desk at the front, working on something with a pencil. He looked up when we went in and gave us a friendly smile. “Hey, how’s it going?”

  When I realized Mr. Non-Congeniality wasn’t saying anything, I smiled back at the man while elbowing Kulti in the arm for being rude. “Good, and you?”

  “Great.” He glanced at the German and something like recognition flickered in his gaze, before he set his pencil on the desk. He swiped the computer mouse next to his hand and glanced at the screen before slowly sliding his gaze back to Kulti. “Dex will be out in a minute, if you want to take a seat.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled at him again and turned back to sit on one of the black leather couches. Kulti stayed standing, walking toward the wall where multiple magazine articles were framed.

  Not even thirty seconds later, the sound of boots on the tiled floor didn’t prepare me for the black-haired man who made his way from the back of the business. Tall, broad shouldered and with tattoos that went all the way down to his wrists, I couldn’t help but stare at him.

  I’d never been a fan of guys that looked like they’d gone to jail, but you’d have to be blind to not appreciate how good-looking the man was, even if he wasn’t my type.

  Because, Jesus Christ.

  “He’s wearing a wedding ring,” Kulti’s low voice murmured from right next to me.

  “That doesn’t mean I can’t look,” I muttered right back, noticing that yeah, he was wearing a shiny yellow-gold wedding band right above a tattoo of what looked like a letter.

  Something came down over my eyes and I realized that the German had pulled his beanie down over my head. “Hold this,” he said, continuing to tug the material down over my nose.

  “Hey, man.” A voice that I knew had to belong to the tattooed black-haired guy, sounded closer. The sound of two palms slapping together was right by my head as I rolled the dark green beanie up over my forehead.

  Sure enough Kulti and the other guy were right in front of me, shaking hands. The German was only slightly shorter than the man, who was probably just a little younger, but as I took in their differences, Kulti looked down at me and gave me a look that had me smirking. His face was one I was nearly as familiar with as my own, so good-looking and stubborn and proud.

  I’d still stare at Kulti over the tattooed guy any day, every day.

  “You wanna look at the sketch one more time before we do the transfer?” the tattoo artist asked, taking a step back and not looking down at me once.

  “Yes. How long will everything take?”

  The dark-haired man shrugged. “Couple hours.”

  The German nodded before speaking to me, his hand resting on my shoulder. “Schnecke, I’ll pay you to—“

  “Shut up and get your tattoo fixed. I’m not taking your money anyway, loser.”

  He looked at me for a second and then pulled the flap of his beanie back down over my eyes.

  By the time I managed to roll it back up, the wet-dream-worthy men were walking toward one of the work areas behind the front desk. I settled back into my seat, prepared to watch some Netflix on my phone while I waited, when the tattoo artist made his way back to the desk.

  “If Ritz isn’t back in ten minutes, give her a call,” he said to the redheaded guy.

  “You got it, Dex. She sent me a text twenty minutes ago saying she was on her way, so I’m sure she’ll be back in no time.”

  The dark-haired guy grunted and before he got a chance to reply, the door opened and a girl around my age came in carrying a car seat in one hand and a diaper bag in the other. The guy named Dex immediately came around the desk, scowling.

  “What the hell are you doin’, babe? I told you to give me a fuckin’ call when you parked so I could help you out,” he snapped in a harsh voice, taking the car seat from her with a heavily tattooed arm. He held the seat up to face level and peered inside, what looked like dark blue eyes narrowing before a smile broke across his harsh face. “How’s my little man?” he whispered, dipping his head even closer into the cocoon of the seat and making an audible kissing sound.

  Dear God. A man like that making kissing sounds at what I could only guess was his baby. My vagina, my vagina didn’t know what to do with itself.

  The girl smiled, not even remotely fazed at the way the guy had been talking to her or by the way I sat there in awe looking at them. “I’m not going to call when I know you have an appointment, and I scored a spot on the street so it’s no big deal.” She was still looking at the man with the baby before adding “hey, Slim” with a glance at the redhead behind the desk.

  The ginger blew her a kiss. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you too,” she said.

  Dex lowered the baby carrier back down and frowned at the girl. “Give me a fuckin’ kiss, will ya?”

  She rolled her eyes and cut the distance between them, coming up to her toes to plant her lips against the dark-haired man’s. He wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her right into the broad frame of his body, deepening the kiss even though he was holding a baby carrier in his free hand.

  I had to look away.

  Maybe it was time I started looking for someone to let into my life. It’d been five years since the last time I’d had an honest real boyfriend, and I wasn’t traveling as much anymore.

  I could make it work. Couldn’t I?

  My stupid eyes moved over to Kulti’s direction for one split second before I forced them down to my lap. I slipped my headphones on, peeked up again to see Dex holding the baby carrier in a hand as he and the girl walked to the back, and then started up a movie on my phone to keep me busy until the German was done. Sometime later, a hand waving at me from the front desk caught my attention. It was the redheaded guy.

  “Hey,” I said, taking my headphones off and pausing the movie.

  The girl from earlier was sitting next to the desk with him, no baby seat in sight, but there was a baby monitor on the desk. “I don’t usually act like a fan-boy,” the man said, his voice a whisper. “But… is that Kulti?” His face was really hopeful.

  I set my phone on my lap and watched as he leaned forward for my reply. “Yes.”

  The guy pumped his fist in the air and turned back to the girl. “I told you so!” he whisper-hissed at her, which only made me smile.

  “His hair is different,” she responded to him in a low voice, looking back to make sure she wasn’t being overheard.

  “He does look different with his hair short,” I agreed, stretching my neck up but only able to catch a glimpse of the guy they’d called Dex hunched over.

  “Do you think he’d give me an autograph?” the redhead asked.

  I nodded.

  The guy grinned all teeth at the girl, who smiled at me. “He’s the most famous person we’ve had in here, at least since I started. There was that boxer guy that was a friggin’ jerk but no one was impressed,” she explained shyly. She turned back around before adding, looking at the ginger, “I used to have a big crush on him. He was so cute.”

  “Don’t let the boss hear you,” the redhead laughed.

  Or he’d get jealous? How adorable was that?

  So sweet it made me feel a little weird. With how busy I was, I didn’t spend much time around couples. Even when my friends had significant others, I still didn’t do
a whole bunch of stuff with them.

  Oh hell. I had almost exactly what I’d always wanted. I had nothing to complain about.

  “Are you dating?” the guy blurted out a second later. The girl hit him in the arm.

  I felt my neck get hot, and though I realized I didn’t have to answer, I did anyway. “No.”

  “Oh.”

  “We’re just best friends.”

  * * *

  “Look, I need to warn you: I think my dad’s going to lose his shit,” I said as we pulled into my parents’ neighborhood. “I already warned him that I had a big surprise while I was waiting for you at the tattoo place, but I really think he’s going to lose it.”

  I could feel the weight of his gaze from the other side of the car even though it was almost eight o’clock at night. “I’m not worried.”

  Of course he wasn’t worried.

  But I was.

  My dad was going to crap his pants. I hadn’t found the balls to even warn my mom because I wasn’t sure how she’d handle it either. There was a chance she’d freak out and say she needed a warning beforehand.

  “Rey, you don’t understand how big of a fan of yours he is.”

  “Schnecke, I’m not worried. I’ve seen it all.”

  Not that I didn’t doubt it, but it still didn’t help my nerves as we got closer and closer to the house my parents had lived in for as long as I could remember. The fear that one of them would spill the beans on my childhood crush had been nagging at me for hours.

  What was I going to say, though? That he wasn’t welcome? That wasn’t very nice and that wasn’t the way my parents had raised me. Plus, I’d brought Jenny home with me a few times during breaks. That wasn’t counting the other teammates and friends that had been in and out of my life over the years who had come by for holidays.

  The small three-bedroom house was right at the end of the cul-de-sac. My mom’s new-ish car and my dad’s work truck were in the driveway, as I parked on the street. The house wasn’t new in any way, but my dad took care of it.

  I shot him a smile as Kulti grabbed our bags from the trunk, holding my hand out. “I can take that.”

  He gave me a single look before he kept walking right up the stones my dad had laid as a path to the doorway. The German didn’t even bother waiting for me to catch up before he was knocking on the door, a little more subdued than the way he banged on mine every time he came over.

  I shoved him to the side as the locks began turning.

  “Quién es?” Of course it would be my dad.

  “Sal!” I called back, putting my index finger up to my mouth when Kulti looked at me.

  “Sal? You lost your key?” The bottom lock turned and a moment later, my dad’s face appeared in the crack of the door.

  “No.” I grinned, happy to see him. “Happy early birthday. Don’t freak out—“

  His forehead scrunched up as he swung the door wide. “Don’t freak—?“ He stopped. His gaze swung from me to Kulti, then back to me and finally back to Kulti. The weirdest breath escaped his mouth.

  Then, he shut the door in our faces.

  Kulti and I looked at each other, and a second later I started laughing as a big grin that caught me totally off guard cracked across his lightly bearded face.

  “Dad,” I cried his name out.

  There was no reply, which only made me laugh even harder.

  “Papi, come on.” I pressed my forehead against the door, my shoulders shaking as I replayed the look on his face when he spotted the German next to me. “Oh God.”

  Twisting my head to look at Kulti again, he was still smiling.

  “Salomé? Que paso?” My mom’s voice came from inside the house a second before she opened the door, her forehead scrunched up in confusion already. “Porque—ay carajo!” she said, immediately spotting the much taller man standing next to me. Her face went a little pale. Her mouth gaped in surprise for all of three seconds before she cleared her throat, looked back at me and cleared her throat again. “Okay. Okay.” Her eyes swung back over to the German before she smiled warily. “Come in, come in.” She spoke in Spanish, ushering us inside.

  “Hey, Mom,” I said, giving her a hug before stepping aside as she closed the door behind us. “I brought my friend with me.” I gave her a look with wide eyes that said please don’t bring anything up. “Mom, Rey…Reiner...? Kulti...?” I looked at him for a clue as to what I should have my family call him. He just shrugged in response casually, extending a proper hand out to my mom. “Rey, this is my mom.”

  My mom was too busy looking him up and down like she couldn’t believe he was real, and honestly a small part of me couldn’t believe it either. Reiner Kulti was standing in my house. I’d watched hundreds of his games in the living room. I’d sworn to my dad I was going to be as good as The King in this exact place more times than I could count. He was here. Here. As my friend, spending the next few days because he had nothing else to do.

  Jesus Christ.

  “Hola, Señora Casillas,” Kulti said in his perfect Spanish, continuing on in it, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for having me.”

  Who was this man with manners? I watched him, not really surprised at how polite he was but… a little bit caught off guard.

  A small slow smile crossed my mom’s face, pleased with his introduction. “It’s nice to meet you too,” she said, thankfully avoiding anything like I’ve heard so much about you or something really incriminating. Mom finally looked over at me, not switching back to English. “I was wondering why your dad shut the door and walked into the bedroom. He’s in there now. Go find him while I get Reiner a drink.”

  So she decided to go with Reiner. How about that.

  I gave him a small smile as he stood there with our bags in hand. “I’ll be right back. You can leave the bags there, I’ll move them later.”

  He gave me what I was starting to call his ‘shut up Sal’ look.

  I smiled at my mom and gave her another hug despite the fact she was more focused on the man next to me. “I’ll get him out of there.”

  Sure enough, the bedroom door was closed when I came up to my parents’ room. I knocked on it twice before saying, “Dad? I’m coming in. Don’t scar me for life.”

  Sitting on the edge of his bed, with his head between his knees, was the man who had raised me. His rough dark hands were gripping the back of his head and it took everything inside of me not to start laughing at his mini-panic attack. Choking it all back, I took a seat beside him and put my hand on his back.

  “Surprise,” I whispered with only the slightest hint of laughter in my voice.

  Slowly, his head turned and I caught one light-green eye staring back at me. “I don’t know whether I want to hug you or beat you,” he said in Spanish.

  “You’ve never even spanked me,” I reminded him with a big smile.

  Dad managed to scowl with only the small part of his face visible. “No la chingues, hija de tu madre. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

  It should be said that my dad was the second most dramatic person in the family, only outranked by my little sister. Eric, our mom and I were the sane, stable ones.

  So yeah, I shook my head at him knowing he was full of crap. “With the way you drive, it’s going to be another car that—“I dragged my thumb across my neck “—gets you not a heart attack, all right?”

  Dad tilted his head so that both of his green eyes were visible. I’d always wished I’d inherited his mom’s gene but I hadn’t. None of his kids had. With his super-tan skin, the color always seemed to pop. Lucky dog. Mom had told me once it was the first thing she noticed about him. “With the way you’re treating me, I’m going to end up on blood pressure medicine soon.” He sat up and continued to give me an impertinent look. “You brought him to our house and you didn’t warn me? You didn’t even tell me you were on speaking terms the last time we talked.” He shook his head. “I thought you were my best friend.”

  The kicker was that
my dad genuinely did sound hurt. Not much, but enough that I felt guilty I hadn’t said anything to him about my friendship with the Bratwurst King of the World. Dad was my best friend. I usually told him everything. While I would never say I loved one parent more than the other, my dad and I had always had a special relationship. He’d been my buddy, my champion, my co-conspirator and my backup for as long as I could remember. When my mom had tried to force me to play every other sport besides soccer, Dad had been the one who argued that I should do whatever I wanted.

  So his words were enough to wipe the smile off my face as I leaned into him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you. I wasn’t even sure we really were friends. At first he was just kind of an asshole, and then we became friends.”

  “Hmph.”

  “I’m serious, Dad. It’s just weird. I had to think about him pooping for the first two months so that I wouldn’t stutter every time I was around him.”

  That made him to crack a small smile.

  “We played soccer together a few times, I took him with me to play softball with Marc and Simon, and he took me to the doctor a week ago,” I explained, surprised he hadn’t seen the pictures of us that had been posted on Kulti’s fan websites.

  And even when my dad’s favorite athlete in the universe was within walking distance, the number one man in my life put me first. “What the hell did you go to the doctor for?” he snapped.

  Ten minutes later, I’d told him everything—mostly. From the softball game that had gone wrong, to Kulti taking me to the doctor, to the conversation with Mr. Cordero, and finally to the German showing up to my place that morning.

  Dad was shaking his head by the end, anger apparent in his eyes. “Cabrones. We’ll sue them if they do anything,” he said, still hung up on Mr. Cordero.