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“Are you threatening me, old man?” Marx growls out. I’m getting a little concerned but before I can do anything I hear a hearty “AHHHHHH what a refreshing beverage. Come on, Pops, settle down before you hurt yourself. Marx, thank you for thinking of my feelings, but I’m fine for anyone to hear all this stuff we’re gonna talk about,” Tuesday announces. Everyone swings their eyes towards her. August finally clears his throat.
“Are you sure, Dayz? I mean, you might talk to Mad Dog about private stuff or you might remember something upsetting.” She waves her hand dismissively at her brother.
“It’s fine Gus. I mean, shit, half the time I don’t have private thoughts because I have no inner monologue anyways. Besides, whatever is locked up inside me is something that will impact most everyone here. So we may as well just do this whole thing right where we are.” I see her look toward Marx, who gives her a raised eyebrow.
I’ve noticed even though he hasn’t said as much, he seems to have a soft spot for her, just like the rest of the brothers. He looks at me and I give him a nod. She seems calm enough, and she doesn’t strike me as the type of woman to be self-conscious or nervous about much. Before I can even open my mouth to state my views, the little older man Chewy called Pops is up in my face, gnarled finger jabbing me in the chest.
“So you’re Rhodie? I hear you have a hard-on for my grandbaby. Better think again, motherfucker, cos I ain’t letting any old shitstain near her until they prove themselves. Got me?” He mean mugs me for a moment before stomping back towards Chewy and throwing an arm over her shoulder. What the hell? I look towards her three brothers and all three fuckers are smirking back at me. I’ll get them back, smug bastards. Before anyone else can say anything to upset Chewy’s Pops, I see my dad, Mad Dog, walk through the kitchen door. I walk over to give him a hug, and so does Marx, before we look to the room.
“Ok Mad Dog, this here is the Tombs family from Tombs Security. Left to right, we have August, Tav, and Jules.” All of them nod at Mad Dog after sizing him up, and I see my father doing the same back to each one of them, too.
“Hi! I’m Tuesday. Although a lot of the guys here call me Chewy now. I don’t mind.” Chewy gives my dad a blindingly big smile and there goes that fucking feeling in my chest again. She waves enthusiastically, but that seems to throw her off balance a little as she’s still swinging her legs and she starts to topple sideways. Without thinking, I’m by her side and I scoop her up before she can fall. I place her back on her stool and look up in time to see her Pops’ squinty eyed look before giving me a head tip.
“And that old grumpy bastard is our Pops,” Tav speaks up, and then laughs when Pops growls in his direction.
“Well, ok then. It’s nice to meet you love. Are you happy to have a chat with me? Maybe talk about what’s going on and we can get to know each other a little?”
“Yup, sure thing. We’re just gonna do it here, I don’t mind anyone hearing,” I see Mad Dog look around the room to decide the best place to sit.
“Let’s go sit on the couch, girl, get nice and comfy, yeah?” Chewy gives him a huge smile and I feel the need to let him know to keep his hands off. Not that he would try it on. He’s old enough to be her father, but it pisses me off that even at his age he’s still got the touch when it comes to the ladies. Even ladies as unusual as Chewy.
As if my thoughts have come to life, I watch her curtsy in front of Mad Dog before sitting. I see his eyebrows hit his hairline before he grins big, looking over at me and giving me a little head shake whilst he chuckles. We spend the next while bringing him up to speed on the goings on and I can see he’s already pissed off. Although he did ask that next time Chewy tortures someone, he has front row seats. I see her Pops also looking fucking proud as punch over his granddaughters’ methods and now I’m wondering if he has had a hand in any of her schemes.
“Okay, Tuesday, so you said you had a flashback. Something you had never remembered before. Trauma, especially when young, can be a mind fuck. Have memories ever been triggered before by words, smells, that sort of thing?” Tuesday thinks for a moment before nodding.
“I guess. Smells more often than not remind me of things. Sometimes the way something feels or a sound. I’m pretty sensitive to that type of stuff anyway,” she shrugs.
“You’re autistic yeah? Forgive me, but I know little about it. Would you mind telling me about it?” He leans back and lets Tuesday organize her thoughts. I notice a lot of the brothers have come in and they’re all invested in what’s happening. Her brothers and Pops seem pretty calm, so that makes me feel a little better. I look back at Chewy and I’m surprised to see that she looks a little uncomfortable.
“It’s not really anything too special. I’m not like Rainman or Sheldon from Big Bang Theory. I’m fairly average. There are some things I still struggle with, but I’m not super robotic or unfeeling or anything. I can empathize now and I can read people to an extent. I’m not super emotional and I can compartmentalize very well. Hence, I never remembered anything. I just put that stuff away and moved on.” I can see she looks uneasy, and it’s the first time I’ve ever noticed her look self-conscious.
I have a feeling that maybe she’s not as comfortable with her abilities and the way she’s wired as we think she is. Shit, I can’t imagine growing up with that monkey on your back would’ve been easy and kids can be really cruel. I bet she was teased, and it’s probably why her brothers are so fucking protective of her.
“I read it can be a bit of a superpower. Is that what you think?” Mad Dog leans towards her, and I hear her scoff.
“Well, if being good at computers and killing people is a superpower, then yeah.”
“Girl, I’m not judging you on something that you think is a shortcoming. Hell, the opposite, really. I find you fucking remarkable in your abilities to not only compartmentalize what happened to you, but in your ability to thrive in the aftermath. The problem is that after a while, shit gets out of the nice tidy boxes that you put them in. Like remembering the other man there that night. Once shit sneaks out, there’s no way to put it all back, and there’s no way to control what comes out and when. I can tell you love your work, but you don’t want to be halfway through hanging a bastard and have a flashback or a shutdown either. That’s why we have to sort out your PTSD. Get out what you don’t need to keep inside and get rid of it.” As Mad Dog is saying all this, I watch Chewy’s expressions. Sometimes she can sit incredibly blank like Jules, but now and then, when you watch closely enough, you can see every little thing she is feeling. She blanches a little.
“Wait, you mean I could start feeling bad about killing people? Or I might get squeamish and not be able to do my job properly? Oh no, fuck that. Fix me Mad Dog!” The look on her face is that of pure horror, and I can’t help the bubble of laughter that comes out of me. Before long, I see half the club and her brothers are also laughing along, and poor Chewy has no fucking clue why.
I see my dad pat her on the knee and she grabs his hand and holds on tight. She looks up at him and looks so panicked at that moment that it almost breaks my heart. Mad Dog leans over and pulls her in for a hug and I’m thankful once again that this man is my dad. He knows how to make everything better.
“She fucking loves old people” I swing around and see Jules standing beside me.
“Huh?”
“Tuesday, she loves old people. I think it’s because she hates babies. But you better watch him. Next thing you know, he’ll be wrapped around her finger just like Pops and any other random old man she picks up on her travels.” With that, he slaps me on the shoulder, and I watch as he leaves. Before I can ask where he’s off to, Marx answers my question.
“He’s going to canvas a few contacts he has. There have been whispers out on the street about Kraykowski, but our usual intel doesn’t seem to know much. Apparently, Jules has friends in all sorts of places, so he’s going to check it out,” I nod my understanding. Jules has friends? I have a feeling I’ll never be able to figure this family out.
Tuesday
Holy shitballs Mad Dog gives the best hugs. But I’m not going to say that out loud. It might upset Pops, who also gives stellar hugs, but Mad Dogs are like Rhodie’s, all-encompassing and warm. I can hear the very slow, steady thud of his heartbeat before I feel large hands on my shoulders, pulling me back and out of Mad Dog’s reach. I know it’s Rhodie, I could smell his spicy leather,
“Hey! What are you doing? I was fine with Mad Dog. His hugs are like a mother kangaroo’s warm pouch and I’m his baby, all snuggly and warm.” I let out a sigh whilst I hear Rhodie let out a growl.
“You need a hug, Chewy, you come to me,” he grits out. He’s frowning at me, so I shrug and look back at Mad Dog, whose eyes are flicking between the two of us. He has a smirk on his face, but he just clears his throat to get us all back on track.
