Brazing (Forged in Fire #2) (29 page)

              “Sorry about the gate,” he shrugged. “I didn’t realize there were kids around.”

              “You moved into a neighborhood,” I pointed out dryly. “There’s bound to be kids around.”

              His eyes narrowed at the insult but he swallowed his Poptart and agreed, “Fair enough. I’ll keep the gate locked from now on.”

              I wasn’t finished with berating him though. His pool caused all kinds of problems for me this morning and since I could only take out so much anger on my six-year-old, I had to vent the rest somewhere. “Who fills their pool the first week of September anyway? You’ve been to New England in the winter, haven’t you?”

              He cleared his throat and the last laugh lines around his eyes disappeared. “My real estate agent,” he explained. “It was kind of like a ‘thank you’ present for buying the house. He thought he was doing something nice for me.”

              I snorted at that, thinking how my little girl could have… No, I couldn’t go there; physically, I was not emotionally capable of thinking that thought through.

              “I really am sorry,” he offered genuinely, his dark eyes flashing with true emotion. “I got in late last night, and passed out on the couch. I didn’t even know the pool was full or the gate was open until I heard you screaming out here.”

              Guilt settled in my stomach like acid, and I regretted my harsh tone with him. This wasn’t his fault. I just wanted to blame someone else.

              “Look, I’m sorry I was snappish about the pool. I just, I was just worried about Abby. I took it out on you,” I relented, but wouldn’t look him in the eye. I’d always been terrible at apologies. When Grady and I would fight, I could never bring myself to tell him I felt sorry. Eventually, he’d just look at me and say, “I forgive you, Lizzy. Now come here and make it up to me.” With anyone else my pride would have refused to let me give in; but with Grady, the way he smoothed over my stubbornness and let me get away with keeping my dignity, worked every single time.

              “It’s alright, I can understand that,” my new neighbor agreed.

              We stood there awkwardly for a few more moments, before I swooped down to pick up my plaid pants and discarded robe. “Alright, well I need to go get the kids ready for school. Thanks for convincing her to get out. Who knows how long we would have been stuck there playing
Finding Nemo
.”

              He chuckled but his eyes were confused. “Is that like Marco Polo?”

              I shot him a questioning glance, wondering if he was serious or not. “No kids?” I asked.

              He laughed again. “Nope, life-long bachelor.” He waved the box of Poptarts and realization dawned on me. He hadn’t really seemed like a father before now, but in my world- my four kids, soccer mom, neighborhood watch secretary, active member of the PTO world- it was almost unfathomable to me that someone his age could not have kids.

              I cleared my throat, “It’s uh, a little kid movie. Disney,” I explained and understanding lit his expression. “Um, thanks again.” I turned to Abby who was finishing up her breakfast, “Let’s go, Abs, you’re making us late for school.”

              “I’m Ben by the way,” he called out to my back. “Ben Tyler.”

              I snorted to myself at the two first names- it somehow seemed appropriate for the handsome life-long bachelor, but ridiculous all the same.

              “Liz Carson,” I called over my shoulder. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

              “Uh, the towels?” he shouted after me when we’d reached the gate.

              I turned around with a dropped mouth, thinking a hundred different vile things about my new neighbor. “Can’t we… I…” I glanced down helplessly at my bare legs poking out of the bottom of the towel he’d just lent me.

              “Liz,” he laughed familiarly, and I tried not to resent him. “I’m just teasing. Bring them back whenever.”

              I growled something unintelligible that I hope sounded like “thank you” and spun on my heel, shooing Abby onto the lawn between our houses.

              “Nice to meet you, neighbor,” he called out over the fence.

              “You too,” I mumbled, not even turning my head to look back at him.

              Obviously he was single and unattached. He was way too smug for his own good. I just hoped he would keep his gate locked and loud parties few and far between. He seemed like the type to throw frat party-like keggers and hire strippers for the weekend. I had a family to raise; a family that was quickly falling apart while I floundered to hold us together with tired arms and a broken spirit. I didn’t need a nosy neighbor handing out Poptarts and sarcasm interfering with my life. 

An Excerpt from The Second Jam

A Love and Skate Spin-Off

Coming January 2015

Chapter 1

Beatriz

“Don’t, Bea, don’t! You’re going to regret it! ”

The hairdresser behind me plugged her ears with shears in one hand and a black comb in the other as she waited for the incessant wailing to stop.

“Will you shut up? Get a magazine or text your novio. You’re good at that.”

Her middle finger told me what she thought of that.

“Come on, girl. Cut it all off.”

My parents had preferred me with long hair and were vocal about it. They were vocal about everything.

Katie, the girl behind me, fluffed my waist length hair in a bid of farewell.

“Are you sure?” She met my eyes in the mirror. “It’s so pretty.”

“It’s not pretty when I’m pulling it out of my scalp trying to detangle it after stuffing it into a derby helmet. Cut the shit off—please.”

Funneling most of my hair into a ponytail at the nape of my neck, she hesitated three or four times before making the first cut. As the weight was lifted from my scalp, I noticed an audience of hairdressers had gathered in reverence. They looked as if they were seeing a body in a coffin one last time.

So I clapped and cheered—flailed my arms until shock plastered the faces of the people around and behind me.

It was just hair.

Even after graduating college, getting a job and living on my own for five years, this was the first time I really felt like an adult. No, it wasn’t just hair—it was freedom.

With the mourning finally breaking up, Katie took one long drag of a breath and went to work on the rest of my hair looking like the Mad Hatter shearing seamlessly through silk for the Red Queen’s bonnets.

When she powered up the clippers, Zuri began crossing herself and praying about not cutting off my ears.

She was ridiculous dramatic. In the next half hour, the style took shape, looking more and more like the picture I’d brought in on my phone. I was like a little roller derby chola.

I shut my eyes while Katie blow dried the stray black hairs from my neck. A gasp rang out from my right and I knew that Zuri was next to me freaking the F out.

“It doesn’t look that bad.”

I didn’t even want to see the shock on her face. I kept my eyes closed while Katie’s skilled fingers worked whatever product through my hair—conveniently the same product she was going to try to sell me on my way out. Too bad that on my professor’s wage I wouldn’t be able to afford it.

“It looks hot.” I opened my eyes to see a woman with a pink streak of hair coming out of a blue braid. This was no ordinary woman. To anyone else, she would look like some middle-aged female who was living in the past by continuing to keep her hair like a teenager.

“Good to see you Ms. Reed.”

Quickly, I looked around the place. How did these people not know this woman? She was the new matriarch of a roller derby empire.

The Black Family to roller derby was like The Sopranos to the mafia.

Reed Black was one of their feared leaders—no, more like loved.

Her husband, Falcon, was hot as…

“You too, babe. Really, the hair looks amazing.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

Katie was still primping as Reed took a seat in the waiting area which was really six cheap looking chairs, some hair magazines and a dollar store bucket with McDonald’s toys. Why Reed Black got her hair cut in a cheap ass place like this was beyond me.

“There you go, Hot Shot. Pay the lady and let’s get out of here. Mama needs a torta.”

It seemed like we were constantly at the mercy of Zuri’s demanding hunger.