In Too Deep

In Too Deep

By Sherry Howard

            Three Days Grace pumps through the speakers, almost drowning out the familiar hum of the tattoo gun. Mindless, I flip the pages of a magazine as I watch the clock on the wall across from me tick, seeming to be stuck at 11:45. It’s nearly midnight on a Monday night. Buzz is finishing up his last job of the night and I’m waiting behind the register to cash the customer out.

            I’d been working at In Too Deep since I was eighteen and ran away from home. Buzz had found me wandering the streets and trying to find a place in the world. I refused to return to mom’s because I wouldn’t let my step dad beat me anymore or watch him bruise up my mom. I’d tried to make her leave, to show her that there was more to life, but she refused. I had pulled her toward our front door, begging her to walk away. Hank barreled through the living room and smacked me clean across the face. He ripped mom from my arms and flung her to the ground. I stood in the door mere seconds and hollered for her to come with me. She shook her head no, so I had hurried out without looking back.

            All I’d had in my possession was a change of clothes, a book, a bottle of Jack, and fifteen dollars and forty-three cents shoved into my over-sized purse. I lived on the streets two whole weeks, stretching my money for bare necessities, planning to land a job right away. It didn’t take long for me to realize that finding a job in a dwindling economy wasn’t easy. Four days. That’s how long I went without eating before I became desperate.

            One night, I was meandering along a dark street, looking for a place to rest, when a car stopped in the alleyway. The driver jumped out and rushed into the back door of a business. He was in a hurry and left his car door wide opened. I crept along and was careful when I peeked into the car. My stomach rumbled at the sight of a half-eaten sandwich. I threw caution to the wind and grabbed it before thinking, gobbling bite after bite. I’d almost polished it off when the driver came back. My eyes were a deer caught in headlights, but I didn’t stop.

            The driver ran his hand through his thick hair. “You don’t belong out here. It’s not safe.”

            I talked, food falling from my mouth. “Maybe it feels much safer than where I came from.”

            “How old are you?” He asked as he took a step in my direction.

            I backed up. “Why?”

            “Pretty young girl like you. Someone’s bound to be looking for you.” He stopped his approach and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lit one, and blew smoke into the humid night air. “Bet there’s a missing poster with your name on it.”

            I’d finished the sandwich and stood with my arms crossed over my chest. “I guarantee there’s not.”

            “Look,” he said. “I’ve got a bed upstairs…”

            “I’m not a prostitute.” I turned on my heel and quickened my pace as I took off down the alley.

            He caught up to me with ease, grabbed my shoulder, and spun me around. “And I’m not a rapist. If you’d let me finish.”

            “Please, you have murder written all over you with your tattooed arms and cigarettes and…”

            “Honey, if I wanted to kill you, I had my chance while you were busy eating my sandwich.” He flicked his cigarette away.

            I huffed. “Fine. Speak. I’m listening.”

            He matched my abrasiveness. “I was saying, I have a bed upstairs in my office. I’m working on a client all night if you need a place to crash.”

            I studied him in the soft glow of someone’s back door light, noticing the triangle shaped scar under his right eye. Some may have found him intimidating, but one glance in his warm eyes showed me his humanity.

            “You’re not going to do anything to me?”

            “No,” he nodded his head to the door. “You coming?”

            I only hesitated a second before walking beside him to the back entrance.

            “Besides,” He said. “You remind me of my little sister.”

            “That’s just great,” I said as I waited for him to lock up his car. “I’m eighteen, I’m not a child.”

            He came up to hold the door open for me. “She would be too.”

            “Would be?” I asked as we entered a storage room and he turned to lock us in.

            He jingled his keys in his hands as he inspected me. “She’s dead.”

            “Oh,” I whispered.

            We stood in the nearly dark room for a long while before he cleared his throat. “Name’s Buzz.”

            “Lexie.”

            Buzz led me out to the main room and flicked a switch to bring the lights to life. “Well Lexie, this is In Too Deep.”

            It had been three years since I walked into the parlor and never left. Buzz gave me a job working the counter and, eventually, let me convert the office upstairs into an apartment. I found a place here with him taking on the role as my big brother. Of course, I wasn’t the same little girl. I’d cut all my hair off in a pixie style that I wore spiked up. I’d made Buzz give me a few tat’s and a tongue piercing that he insisted I didn’t need but caved in and did anyway.

            A hand slapped down on the counter and brought me back to the present. “Buzz said to pay $45,” said a frat guy with his newly tatted bicep on display in front of me.

            I cashed him out and looked up to see the clock was indeed working as it now displayed 11:59.

            I was counting down the drawer when the bell over the front door chimed.

            “Sorry no more tonight,” I said as I continued without looking up.

            A shadow fell over me as I glanced up at Jace. “Buzz in?”

            He scared the crap out of me. I only nodded.

            He stared at me. “Lock the door and pay better attention.”

            He proceded to the back as I made my way around the counter to close up. It wasn’t long before I heard the tat gun and I knew why he was here. He was adding yet another tally mark to his massive beast of a neck. That would make 15 marks crossed off in fives. Buzz never made him pay. They barely spoke, seeming to have some unspoken agreement about the situation. When I first got here, Jace only had three marks.

            I could only guess to their meaning. He was a monster. Massive in frame. Arms that could pick you up and throw you with ease. Dark. Mysterious. Murderer Maybe? Young, possibly a few years older than me.

            I put the money in a bank bag and made my way to the parlor area to lock it away in the safe. I peeked from the corner of my eye as Buzz held his gloved hand to the side of Jace’s neck and added another mark. Two in one day. My God, this guy was a killing machine.

            “Your girl there’s a liability,” Jace said once Buzz stopped the gun. “She doesn’t pay attention. Anyone could take her.”

            Buzz took off his gloves and deposited them in the trash. “I’ll talk to her.”

            I kicked the door shut on the safe. “I’m standing right here,” I said placing my hands on my hips. “If you got something to say-”

            Jace stood and hustled my way. “Girls pretty as you get taken from this neighborhood every day. I’d be on the lookout for prowlers if I were you.”

            “You mean murderers?” I pointed to his neck. “Is that how many girls you’ve killed?” Buzz and Jace shared a look but neither replied. “Looking for another victim? Serial Killer.”

            He laughed. “Can you believe this chick? Better watch your mouth, Darlin.”

            “She’s a spitfire,” Buzz interjected.

            “Whatcha going to do about it?”

            Jace held his Marine stance. “You’re trouble. Naive. Gonna get yourself snatched.”

            “I can handle my own,” I said. I tried to go around his side and make my way up the staircase to my apartment, but he shifted in front of me.

            “You need some street smarts. Who do you think you’re talking to?”

            “Obviously, a killer,” I spat.

            He moved in on me and I found myself backing up until I was flush with the wall. My breath caught as I shut my eyes tight and braced myself for what was to come.

            It never came. My heart pounded, blood rushing to my ears. Slowly, I let the scrunch of my eyes release and open. Jace studied me.

            “You’ve been hit,” he withdrew. “I wouldn’t do that.”

            “You sure about that?” I asked, letting the tension release from my shoulders.

            “You’re quick to judge, sweetheart.” He rubbed his hand down his tired face. “You don’t know me or what I do.”