People Live Here: JUNE - DEALDONE
JUNE - DEALDONE
The cats have the run of the place.
Tuxedos, tabbies, strays missing ears, tails, whole limbs. They gather at puddles slick with oil, slink between hedges, stretch across the hoods of sunbaked cars. Someone always leaves out food, the smell turning rank, flies crawling over bloated piles of kibble gone to mush.
Jack steps over a half-gutted rat on the stoop. He says "Jesus," The ribs are cracked open, pink and wet. The cats aren’t hungry. They just like the kill.
Caleb barely looks, rocking on his heels, fingers flexing. “So, you tattoo professionally, right?”
Jack scratches his jaw, glancing at me before answering. “Yeah.”
“I mean, like… licensed?”
Jack gives a small nod. “Apprenticed for a year. Been at it since.”
Caleb’s energy coils, working under his skin. “Cool. I got these old ones, but I want something big—like a gorilla, right? Mid-air, arms extended—” He slices his hands through the space between us. “Huge. Snake wrapped around its legs, fighting. Like it’s moving.”
Jack exhales slow. “That’s a lot of ink.”
“How much?” Caleb doesn’t hesitate.
Jack names a price. Too low. We both know it.
Caleb doesn’t blink. He nods, already in. He has that look—this is a yes, no matter what it costs him.
Lena shifts beside him, arms crossed tight. “You sign the lease yet?”
I nod my head. “Yeah, we just signed through the email.”
Lena’s face doesn’t change, but something in her posture stiffens. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
“We paid deposit, first month’s rent.”
Lena exhales hard, sharp. “That’s cute. No lease, no rights. No proof you were ever here.”
Caleb smirks, but it’s bitter. “Man, if shit here breaks, we’re on our own.” He shrugs. “I’ll help when I can, but we pay out of pocket.”
Jack furrows his brow. “So, there’s no wi-fi?”
Lena and Caleb look at each other and chuckle. “Nah, man,” he says. Final. Lena shoves her hands into her oversized hoodie. “Welcome home.” A siren rips through the air, clawing at the moment. We all fall silent.
It fades, swallowed by the city.
I shift my weight, pressing a hand to my stomach. “I feel huge.”
Lena scoffs, but there’s warmth in it. “You’re delusional. You’re barely showing.” “My back says otherwise.”
Her expression softens for half a second. A flicker of something behind her eyes. “Jonas was the same. Kicked the hell out of me.”
Another siren—closer. Shrieking, urgent. Red light flashes, pulsing between the buildings.
Lena crushes the cigarette harder. “Marlowe in 28’s about your due date. She’s hardly showing either.”
The siren fades, lost in the hum of the street.
Caleb, like he needs to shake off the tension, jumps back into the tattoo. He says “You use coils or rotary machines?”
Jack rolls his shoulders, voice calm. “Trained on coils, but I’m wireless rotary now.” Caleb’s face lights up. He says “How do you do stencils?”
Jack tilts his head slightly. “Slowly.”
Caleb grins, about to fire off another question, when—
A sudden burst of sirens, louder, sharper. Caleb tenses, shoulders tightening, hands clenching. Lena moves closer, barely a shift, her palm pressing between his shoulder blades. Caleb’s fists flex, knuckles white, then exhale slow, steady.
The sirens fade.
Lena’s looks at me. She asks, “Did Vince go over the mold subclause with you?” “What?” I ask her.
She hesitates. “It’s separate from the lease. Just means Palisades isn’t liable if you get sick from the black mold.” She says.
Jack’s head lifts.
Lena says l. “I’d just… I mean, with you being pregnant and all.”
I swallow.
The Rosetta’s neon buzzes overhead. The motel windows sweat, the slits in the curtains dark with watching eyes. Someone digs through the dumpster behind us, plastic crinkling, the dull thud of something heavy hitting metal.
Jack shifts his weight. He knows we don’t have options.
He looks at Caleb. “We should talk about the tattoo.”
Caleb grins, already nodding. “Hell yeah.”
Lena flicks away the cigarette, grinding it into the pavement.
“Welcome home.”
