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“No, it’s all good.” Curly accepted the beer and took a long pull. Damn, that was tasty.
After slogging through the same routine day in day out for thirteen years, rapid change overwhelmed him in a way it ever used to. But prison also taught him how to keep his internal shit from showing on the outside. So, he swallowed the beer along with his discomfort and spoke the truth even if not entirely settled. “I told you we’d need men, and you delivered. I’ve been gone been so long I hardly know anyone in town.” He tilted his bottle in Tyler’s direction. “I trust you, cuz.”
Tyler clinked their bottle necks as he smiled. “I gotta tell you. My head’s been spinning since you walked into my shop. Gotta keep reminding myself this is real.”
“Tell me about it,” Curly replied with a grunt. He’d been doing the same thing multiple times per day for more than eight months. But, reminding himself, this was his life now.
Free to make his own choices.
Two of the men Tyler brought shared a story that had the other two cracking up. They didn’t all know each other when they first arrived, but in just fifteen minutes, they seemed to have clicked.
“They’re good men,” Tyler said. “Wouldn’t have let them set foot in your home if I didn’t trust them and think you could, too.”
Nodding, Curly said, “Tell me about them.”
“That’s Fin. He owns a tat shop called Ink Layer,” he said, pointing to the animated man covered in ink, who’d taken over the story. He had emerald green eyes and jet-black hair. Shaved bald on the sides, he wore the top of his hair in a buzzed mohawk. At least six of his fingers had rings, and his nails had been painted black. Metal in his nose, eyebrow, and ears completed the badass look. “Damn good artist. Personable, too. Swear to Christ he could befriend God and the devil at the same time.”
Good quality to have since people skills weren’t Curly’s strong point. “I’ve walked past his shop. Thought about popping in a few times to get some ink touched up.” A handful of his tats had been done in prison and needed some love at the very least.
“Let him know. He’ll get you right in. He goes by the name Tracker because he volunteers for Florida Search and Rescue. Got some stories of rescues from the Everglades that’ll shrivel your balls. Think he’s somewhere in his mid-thirties.”
Shit. Tracker sounded like a damn solid guy.
“Let’s see, the shaggy blond goes by Jinx. His real name is Conrad. He’s been working for me at the tire shop for a few years. The guy spends all his free time at the beach. He’s a damn hard worker. Young though. Twenty-four, I think. Good personality, funny. We call him Jinx because he’s superstitious about all sorts of weird shit.”
Curly nodded.
“Quiet one there with the brown hair is Jake. He’s thirty and owns a locksmith shop. Think he inherited it when his old man kicked it. Don’t know much about him, but Gabe, who’s the clean-cut guy next to Jake vouches for him. Gabe’s a thirty-two-year-old trauma nurse. Met him when I wrecked my bike about eight years back. Fucked myself up good. Gabe’s good people. Be nice to have someone with a little medical knowledge as well.”
Something dark twisted in Curly’s stomach. His cousin could have died, and he’d never have known. No one would have told him because once he’d gone away, thoughts of him had dropped from everyone’s heads. He was nothing more than the family embarrassment who shouldn’t be named.
“Hey.” Tyler nudged his shoulder. “I imagine it’s gonna take some time, but I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”
Slapping his cousin on the shoulder, he said, “Thanks, Ty. I mean it. Just got a lotta shit going on.” He tapped the side of his head. “Shit, I thought I’d moved past.”
“Yeah, I imagine being here’s gonna dredge up the past a lot.”
He had no idea. “One day at a time, right? Don’t they say some shit like that?”
With a snort, Tyler nodded. “They sure do.” His gaze clouded for a moment which had Curly frowning. “Easier said than done, though, ain’t it?”
Though not something he was proud of, it was easy for Curly to get lost in his own problems, given what he’d endured. He’d have to consciously remember that thirteen years of Tyler’s life had passed by as well, and from the look on his cousin’s face, they weren’t all sunshine and good times. Hopefully, they’d get to the point over the next few months where they could sit with a few beers and spill their guts on their pasts.
For now, they had plenty of shit to deal with in the present.
He clapped Tyler on the back. “All right, let’s do this.”
