Behind the Keyboard

DAYS AWAY from the release of Tattoo My Love and Jax’s story.

Here’s a sneak peek of Jax and the prologue from Tattoo My Love.

Jax – Sixteen years ago

Five, ten, eleven, twelve…sixteen. 

Shit. 

I finish counting the money in my pocket. It’s not enough. Cliff, my current dickhead foster ‘dad’, is going to be pissed it’s not more. Apparently, the money he gets from the state for fostering kids isn’t enough. Once you hit fourteen, he expects you to contribute. 

I’m fifteen, like Luke, so I’ve got no excuses. We’ve been here, placed with Cliff and his wife, for eight months now. Lori just got here last month, and she’s only eleven, so she’s safe for a few years yet, although I think Cliff is dangerous to her in other ways. She says she’ll be able to go back home soon, and I hope she’s right. I don’t like the way Cliff looks at her. 

But Luke and I are stuck unless we get moved for some reason. He’s got no folks, and after the last time my mom got busted for drugs, I doubt the court will ever let me go back there. 

I tried to point out there aren’t many jobs out there for orphaned fifteen-year-olds, but all that did was get me backhanded for backtalk. When he’s sober, he usually only hits once to make his point. It’s the days he’s been drinking you’ve got to be careful. 

Mr. Turner needed someone to restock his shelves and sweep up each night, but he only had enough work for one, so I told Luke he should take it. He also told Luke he’d pay him to do a mural on the side of his store. We’re not telling Cliff about that money. 

Sixteen dollars. 

My stomach lurches. 

I’m going to have to go see Rock for a job.

Luke will be pissed if he finds out. He hates Rock. He knows Rock is into all kinds of shady shit. But I can’t go home with only sixteen bucks. I’m still sore from Cliff’s last drinking binge. 

Crap. 

I head to Rock’s usual corner and ask around until one of his guys points me in the right direction. 

Rock is older, but probably not much older. You don’t live long doing the shit he does, not in our neighborhood. But he’s managed to build a small power base for himself. People around here know what he does, but they’re either too scared or too invested to report him to the cops. No one sees Rock do anything. He’s leaning against the back wall of his apartment building, half a dozen followers lingering around. 

“Hey, Jacky. What’s up?” he calls out when he sees me. 

I shrug, my stomach uneasy. “Got any jobs you need done?”

He studies me thoughtfully. I’ve run ‘errands’ for him before. I don’t ask questions, but I’m smart enough to know not to get caught. 

“Where’s your friend?”

Assuming he means Luke, I tell him he’s working at Mr. Turner’s. “Just me,” I say.

He shrugs. “Not today, kid. Come by tomorrow. I got something.”

I nod and walk away. I wonder if I can avoid Cliff until tomorrow.

“Bring this box to the address listed. Abe will give you an envelope, you bring that right back to me. Got it? No extra stops.”

The next day, I’m back at Rock’s corner. I still need the money, after all. I’d stayed out until we were required to be home and inside, and luckily Cliff was already passed out. Avoiding Luke had been harder. But I told him I was meeting a girl after school, and he backed off. 

I nod at Rock. I’ve got it. I still have a pit in my stomach. This is such bullshit. But I don’t know what else to do. 

I zip the box into my backpack and hoof it to the address Rock gave me. But then I’m stuck. No one answers my knock, and I don’t hear any noise inside. Shit.

Now what?

I wait a couple minutes, but when I hear someone coming up the stairs, I duck out of sight. Something tells me I don’t want to be seen here. Whoever it is keeps climbing, not stopping on this floor, and when I’m sure they’re gone, I slip back down the stairs and try to hide in the alley across the street. I wait and watch, see if anyone else comes back. Hopefully, this Abe guy I’m supposed to give this delivery to. But no one else comes. 

I wait for an hour. My feet are starting to freeze in my cheap sneakers. Rock’s going to be pissed it’s taking me so long. Maybe I missed him, this Abe guy? But I know that’s not true; I haven’t taken my eyes off the front door. I straighten, shit, of course. Maybe there’s a back door. 

Stupid. 

I run across the street and up to Abe’s apartment building, knocking again. 

Still no answer. 

Desperate now, I try the doorknob, my stomach lurching when it turns easily, and the door opens. 

I call out, but there isn’t an answer. I move slowly into the apartment, looking around. 

This is all wrong. It sounds wrong, it smells wrong, it feels wrong. 

Shit, what did Rock get me into?

I take two more tentative steps inside, and then I see it. 

Him. 

There’s a man laying on the floor, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling, his arms and legs twisted at weird angles. There’s so much blood. Too much blood. I don’t need to get any closer to know he’s dead. I stumble backward and bump into a table, knocking over a lamp that crashes to the floor. 

I run. 

I run all the way back to Rock’s spot. For once, he’s alone. I’m out of breath, my heart is beating hard. I feel like I’m going to hurl. I try to put on a tough mask and take the box out of my bag. 

“Rock, that guy. He was dead. Someone killed him.”

He laughs at me. “What are you talking about? Who’s dead?”

“That Abe guy. When I got to the address you gave me-”

“Abe’s not dead.” He looks over my shoulder and yells, “Hey, Abe! Get over here.”

A guy around Rock’s age, I’ve seen him around the neighborhood a couple times, walks over. He’s wearing a giant puffer jacket and has a buzz cut. “’Sup?”

“This kid says you’re dead.”

He smirks at me. “That so? No one told me.”

I look between the two of them, my stomach sinking. Shit. 

Rock stares at me until it takes everything I’ve got to keep from shaking. Show no fear. Not to assholes like Rock. Like Cliff. 

“You still got the box?”

I hold it up, showing him. 

He nods. “Open it.”

Knowing I’m going to regret this, I tear into the box. 

There’s a bloody knife inside.

I can’t help it. I turn away and puke against the side of the building. 

When I stand back up, Rock is paging through a notebook. I recognize it right away. He has one of Luke’s sketchbooks. I start to move forward without thinking and scream, “Why do you have that?”

Abe gets between us, so of course, I don’t get anywhere close to Rock. He shoves me back roughly, and I slip in the snow, falling hard on my ass. Rock is calm. He takes the knife and wipes it off on Luke’s sketchbook. 

He wipes a murder victim’s blood on my best friend’s sketchbook. 

Then he puts the knife back in the box. Turning back to Abe, he says, “You got the envelope?” Abe hands him a fat envelope. “Get lost,” he tells him, and Abe walks away. 

I’m still on the ground, and Rock squats next to me. “Here’s the thing, Jacky. You’re smart. I can see that you’re smart. But that friend of yours, Luke? I can tell he doesn’t like me. And I can’t have that kind of… dissension in the neighborhood. So, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to take that box and get rid of the knife. Somewhere no one will ever find it. And you’re going to take this,” he hands me the envelope, showing me the dozens of bills inside, “for a job well done.”

He straightens and holds his hand out to me to help me up. I ignore it and scramble to my feet. 

“Keep your mouth shut and keep Luke out of my way, and everything will be fine. But if not…, “he shrugs. “I’ve got a dozen guys that saw me twenty blocks away from that apartment. And I’ve got three that saw you and Luke right there. You didn’t touch anything, did you? Fingerprints and shit. Wouldn’t be good. Maybe the police find this notebook… but maybe not. Up to you.”

I stare at my feet for countless minutes, thinking about all the possible ways this can go. 

None of them look good. 

Eventually, I shove the box and the envelope into my backpack and walk away without a word.

“Smart, Jacky. You’re smart!” Rock yells after me, laughter in his voice.