“Because I’m not going to let you chain yourself to that chair and all the bullshit that comes with running a business, honey,” he says. “Besides, I think we both need a change of scenery, don’t you?”
“But why go to the town where the Kings of Anarchy MC are located?” I ask.
“That’s where the money will be. They have a club-owned tattoo parlor and you’re one of the best artists in the business,” he replies. “Shelly, neither of us can stay in Frisco any longer. Too many memories for both of us, and it’s only gonna drag us down.”
I sigh because he’s right. With Marcella dying unexpectedly because of a heart attack, I was already skating on thin ice with my mental health. I had been seeing my therapist twice a month,more or less as a check-in than anything else, and after we lost Marcella, I was back to once a week. While she and Uncle Mack never got married, they had been together since before I was born, and he was grieving her loss hard, as was I. She was the mother I didn’t have growing up because when Uncle Mack brought me into his home to raise me, she was there taking on that role. She never complained about having to deal with a grieving toddler or having to adjust her whole life to add a child. As I grew up, she became a close confidant, and I felt the loss down to the depths of my soul. I’d found out the hard way that everybody leaves me, and while my therapist was working with me onthataspect of my life, it’s how I’d felt ever since I lost James and Amberlea.
“Now, get your ass in gear. You’ve got an interview with the owner the day after tomorrow,” he says, probing me to get the lead out of my feet and stop stalling. “You have the keys to our new place, and I already had some furniture delivered, but the rest will be there this weekend when I arrive with the moving truck. You’ve got a reservation at the local hotel until I arrive. Behave!”
I snicker as I close my suitcase and zip it shut. My laptop bag is already packed, I just had to wait for the rest of my clothes to finish drying. The rest of my room is in boxes, clearly labeled, and Uncle Mack has friends coming to help him load the truck. I feel bad that he’s doing this part on his own, but he was insistent about me going to our new place ahead of him.
“You’re just trying to pawn me off on someone else,” I tease, popping the lever so I can roll my suitcase out of my room, my laptop bag strap now slung over my shoulder to make it easier to carry.
“Nonsense. I know you still have to stop and gas up, get ‘road trip snacks’, and then grab one of those frou-frou drinks you love so much. It’ll be another hour before you get on the road, minimum, and I don’t want you driving past dark if possible.”
Leaning up, I kiss his weathered cheek and say, “I love you, Uncle Mack. I promise I’ll be careful.”
“Got your gun?” he asks, grabbing my suitcase.
“What do you think?” I retort. “Milly goes where I go.”
He rolls his eyes at me as we make our way out of the house and to my Jeep. Despite the fact it’s not a Wrangler, the dashboard is lined with tiny ducks from being ducked by other Jeep drivers. Once he has my suitcase stored in the back, he stops me with a hand on my shoulder. “Be careful, Shelly.”
I nod because I’m the only one he’s got left out of our family. “I’m always careful, Uncle Mack.”
“Call me when you get there,” he instructs.
“You’re turning into a worrywart,” I chide. “I’ll call, but just saying, you can always check Life360 if you wanna know where I’m at,” I remind him.
“Just do it and stop pulling my chain,” he orders, tugging me in for a hug. “It’s gonna be a good change for us, sweetheart, I promise.”
I nod, unable to vocalize anything beyond the lump that’s now in my throat.
The trip itself wasn’t too bad, although the construction around Waco was never ending which added about an hour to the drive itself. Still, Maleficent, my Jeep, was a beast on the interstate so I only had to stop once to top her off. The other four stops were because of my bladder, which was only because I had a cooler full of water and soft drinks. Shrugging, I glance around the area where our new place is, impressed that Uncle Mack did so well on his own.
It’s a large, rambling log cabin, with a deep front porch and I grin when I see there are two relatively new rocking chairs from Cracker Barrel already waiting. “Glad to see some things never change,” I say out loud. It was Marcella’s favorite place to eat, and she badgered him incessantly for rockers every time we stopped. I guess he decided to bring a piece of her with us and I was thrilled.
We’d always have our memories, God knows mine were overflowing most of the time, but seeing something so simplistic was a reminder of happier times for us both. I wipe the tears from my face as I shut down Maleficent and get out, admiring the view.
“Time to check out the new digs. Then I’ll go to the hotel he reserved for me,” I murmur as I walk up the pathway to the steps. I know he was expecting me to go right to the hotel, but he should know me by now. All I saw of our new house were pictures; he was the one who handled selling his shop and inventory, plus our old house, as well as purchasing our new place.
Because it’s almost dusk, I don’t take long to walk through it, admiring the hardwood floors, the stone fireplace, and the modern kitchen. It’s very country chic and as I make my way back out to my Jeep, I’m already mentally decorating so I can make it into a home.
The trip to the hotel is almost anti-climactic. There’s not a lot in this town, but I see a laundromat, a diner, a bank, and a few other small-town businesses that I’m eager to explore after my interview. Once I see the tattoo parlor and realize how close it is to the hotel, I smile. If I want, I’ll be able to walk around after I’m done so I can get the lay of the land. I may be a bit more introverted than I used to be, but as my therapist constantly tells me, I still need people.
“I’m Shelly Adcock, I’m looking for Abyss,” I say, staring at the tall man standing in front of me.
“That’s me,” he replies, holding out his hand.
The electrical zap I get when I take his large hand in mine has me momentarily stepping back. While it’s been years since James died, I’ve been so focused on getting healthy again that men have been on the backburner. Still, there’s something in his eyes that tells me he sees more than the average person and I vow to myself to be wary.
“Let’s go back to my office and talk. I’m familiar with yours and your uncle’s work. Any reason y’all decided to relocate?”
“Honestly? We needed a change of scenery,” I admit as I follow behind him to a small office in the back of the shop. “Too many memories,” I whisper.
Once we sit down, I open up the portfolio I brought and set it on his desk. “I know you said you’re familiar with our work, but I brought these to show you,” I say.
“What made y’all decide to do sobriety tattoos?” he asks, looking through the pictures of some of my work.
