My Name Is Venus Black(17)
“Two hundred big ones, Leo,” he says. “Was hoping we wouldn’t have to spend our wad so quick.”
Tinker had a wife once. Her name was Kimberly, and they lived in an apartment in Olympia for only a hundred fifty dollars a month. Kimberly was a real beauty, with long legs, big boobs, and doll eyes. She had the whole package except for the one arm. She’d lost her left arm in a car accident when she was twelve.
But Tinker didn’t mind. Scoring Kimberly was like buying a really cool car that was maybe missing a window or a bumper. It still ran, though, and people looked at you with envy when you drove past. Plus, for all anyone knew, Tinker had married Kimberly before she ever lost her arm, which might make people think Tinker was a great guy for sticking around.
Or, if they knew he married her with one arm, that didn’t look too bad, either. He always knew he had a big heart, and Kimberly proved it.
The marriage lasted over two years, which was almost a success in Tinker’s mind. Kimberly divorced him when he got arrested for the burglaries. She’d been fine knowing he did them. But when he got caught and the money ended, so did the love.
Tinker still misses Kimberly sometimes. And who knows, they might have worked things out after he got out of Monroe if he hadn’t yelled as she was leaving that day, “Who else is going to want a one-armed wife?”
He regrets that now. Not just because it was mean, but also because he knows he was probably wrong. He’s pretty sure plenty of guys don’t give a rat’s ass about shit like arms and legs.
Tessa Herrera is sitting on the steps in front of her dad’s tattoo shop, playing jacks in the sun. She’s on foursies when a beat-up white Impala pulls up at the curb. She watches a man with reddish-blond hair, a large belly, and big sweat circles under the arms of his green T-shirt get out of the car and head toward her.
She scoots to the side of the steps and politely asks, “Tattoo appointment?”
But the man says no, he’s looking for the apartment for rent, but maybe he has the wrong address.
“Oh no,” she says, turning to point. “There’s two apartments above the shop—we live in one and rent the other one out. My dad’s inside. He’ll tell you all about it.”
“Why, thank you, little lady,” he says with a small bow. Tessa feels like he’s making fun of her for being young. She’s eleven, but her dad says she’s “petite” for her age, which she knows means small.
A few minutes later, the man comes back out of the shop with her dad and they head up the stairs. The guy is talking and laughing too loud, and Tessa can tell he is trying too hard to impress her father.
Tessa’s dad says that she might be shy but she’s “good at reading people,” and sometimes he even asks Tessa’s opinion about whether or not they should rent to a person.
She’s about to resume her jacks when she notices a blond boy with a buzz cut in the backseat of the car. The kid seems to be looking her direction, so she smiles and waves. When the boy doesn’t smile or wave back, she feels dumb for trying.
Obviously the boy in the car belongs to the guy looking at the apartment. But they’ve never rented to anyone with a kid before, probably because the apartment has only one bed. Usually it was just a single older person, or else a couple.
When she finally looks up again, the boy is still openly staring in her direction. He must be about seven, she decides. She doesn’t wave again, but she is too polite not to smile. When the boy doesn’t smile back, just keeps staring, she’s embarrassed. What a jerk!
The phone starts ringing from inside the shop and she jumps to her feet. Her dad has a thing about always grabbing the phone in case it’s a tattoo client. This time, Tessa hopes it’s someone who wants to rent the apartment, who doesn’t have a totally rude kid who won’t stop staring.
* * *
—
TINKER HAD TO walk away from the first two apartments because they wanted a background check and references. When the third address turns out to be an apartment above a shop called Tattoos by Tony he gets his hopes up.
He leaves the kid in the car, since he doesn’t want Leo to ruin his chances by acting all weird and shit. He’s convinced they look like any dad and son—he’s pretty sure there’s even a family resemblance. But if people are looking for a blond kid with a buzz cut who acts like a whack job, Leo fits the bill. Totally conspicuous.
A pretty, young Mexican girl with black braids is sitting on the front steps, and she directs Tinker into the shop, where her dad introduces himself as Tony. He’s got long black hair in a ponytail. Tinker shakes his hand. “I’m Phil,” he offers. “Phil Brown.”
While they climb the wooden stairs on the side of the building, Tinker makes small talk, turns on his natural charm. Inside the apartment, he notices a big front window that looks out onto the street. “Nice big window!” Tinker exclaims. On the opposite wall is a small white stove, fridge, sink, and about a foot of counter space. He motions toward it. “Everything I need,” he says.
The Tony guy explains that the tweed couch is a pullout.
“A hideaway?” says Tinker. “That’s fabulous. More than I was expecting.” He hopes he doesn’t sound too enthusiastic. The rest of the furniture is odds and ends. There’s a card table and folding chairs for a kitchen table. There’s also a small TV with rabbit ears, which is a big bonus. Tinker likes TV, because it keeps him out of trouble.