Come Together // Aerosmith

Jackson

This might be the first time in my life, other than having to put Polly down, that I haven't mentally taken off. I was fucking tempted on the walk over here. I'm so damn pissed off and I'm not sure who to be pissed off at.

Not true. I know for a fact I need to be pissed at Mom. I've been pissed at her for years but bit it down instead of confronting her. That was my way of leaving the bullshit and just dealing with life. I can't do that anymore. I need answers from my dad, so I know how to confront my mom.

That's the only reason I stay.

We make small talk until the food is served then we spend the time eating. I mull over the questions I want to ask while I'm chewing. My dad has a huge ass grin on his face every time he looks at me.

Why would a guy who's this fucking happy to see his son never try to seek me out? That's the only question I have after the bomb he dropped on our walk over here. I set my fork down and wipe my mouth.

We may have lived in a trailer park growing up, but I've got fucking manners.

"Mind if I ask a question?" I lean back in my seat and try to relax.

"Go right ahead," he answers with a smile.

"Did you ever try to visit?"

His smile slips right off his face when I ask. I should take that as his answer, but I wait for him to speak and confirm my suspicions.

"Every single day, I thought about you. I wondered what you'd gotten up to. If you still loved digging in the mud or if you played any sports. I wondered what you liked to learn about in school 'cause I only ever got to see you as a little guy. I had so many questions."

He takes a deep breath before looking me right in the eye. "No. I never asked your Ma if I could come see you."

I nod my head, fuming inside. "I guess the next obvious question is why the hell not?"

He's visibly nervous. Hand shaking, he pulls his water glass to his mouth, taking a gulp. He says nothing for a minute as he replaces his glass on the table. Then he looks up at me, eyes dark. Remorse. That's the only word in my mind to describe the way his entire being deflates.

"Well, the way your ma left, she really didn't want a thing to do with me and that included being a dad to you. Didn't agree with my lifestyle. And in so many ways, I couldn't put any blame on her for her feelings after everything. I let it be. I thought that would be best."

I nod, not entirely agreeing with his actions but what choice do I have?

"It's not what I wanted, Jackson. I was so proud to be your dad. But being in your life just wasn't in the cards for me."

"Because of your lifestyle. The motorcycle club thing."

His jaw drops. The color drains from his face.

"Oh...um, right. The club." He clears his throat. "It was a real mess back then. Leadership, um, all over the place. Holly, you remember her from earlier in the shop. Her old man was an enforcer, along with Grinder before he took over the reins. Judge didn't agree with how Grinder changed things. Lots of tension."

"Tension in leadership? That's the reason you dropped out of my life?" I'm dumbfounded. Sick to my stomach. None of this is what I expected when I decided to find my dad.

I used my last name and the city I was born in to find him. A friend from work is an amateur hacker so I asked him to search me up. Didn't take an hour and I had a name and location. Took me two days to suck it up and call. My dad answered the phone with a cheerful greeting before I shocked the hell out of him by saying who I was and why I was calling. He was struck silent for a few minutes before he gave me a choked reply. He wanted me to come. He'd find me a place to stay because his place was the size of a postage stamp. And how soon could I get here.

None of this makes any sense.

"No, son. That's not really why. But its best to leave the rest of the details up to your ma to tell you."

Fat chance. She's avoided all talk of my father my entire life. But for whatever reason, he doesn't want to tell me. I'll let it drop for now. Maybe if I hang around for a while, he'll feel more apt to give me information. Maybe someone else around here knows something, some shred of details that would help. Anything.

"Are you done with your plate?" I ask. "We could head back now."

"Right. It's gettin' late. I can show you where you're sleeping."

He pays the bill at the register and we take the short walk back to Blue Bloods tattoo parlor.

"Funny name. Blue Bloods usually indicates royalty, not an after-hours tattoo parlor run by a motorcycle club president." I shake my head at the neon blue sign displaying the name that greets us as we enter the shop.

"Grinder is part of Reapers royalty." My dad says as he unlocks the door and steps inside. "He and Judge were the knights. The former president, Grinder's best friend, was Duke. His lady, Maria, we called Highness."

"Everybody has a nickname here. They call you Butch, but what's your real name."

He chuckles. "That's it. My mama called me that when she saw my wrinkled-up face after I was born. With a name like that, I guess I was destined to be in a club like this."

"How did you and mom come up with Jackson."

He shrugs. "Your mom liked it so that's what we named you."

Basic. I should have known.

"She must have been shocked to hell when you told her you were coming to see me."

"I didn't tell her." I already knew what she was going to say, and I wasn't interested. I just up and left one morning and didn't bother to say a word about it. That is my specialty, fucking off and not looking back.

"Oh." My dad seems shocked, but he was married to her. He followed her orders all these years and stayed away from me. Why would he be shocked that I didn't get into it with her after making the decision to call my long, lost dad?

He rubs his head, messing up his slicked back hair, and walks deeper into the shop.

"Got a place set up for you back here."

I glance around as we move to the back hallway. The place is a strange mix of dark and light. Most of the walls are painted black, areas sectioned off into mini studios where the artists perfect their ink. But one wall is bright white, a stark background for a gallery of colorful photos, all depicting tattoos more than likely inked in this establishment.

"It's not fancy. Wish I could offer more." He rubs his head again.

"It's fine. I don't need much."

My dad opens the door at the back of the hall and steps inside.

I may have spoken too soon. "Wow. It's-" I have no words. I'm standing in a storage room, if you can call it that, with a couch older than I am and...that's pretty much it.

"It's small. The couch doesn't look like much, but I know for a fact that it's good for sleeping. Brax stayed here a while few years back. Never once complained. And Grinder will never admit this, so don't go after him about it, but he takes naps in here 'bout every day. Goes in cranky, comes out smiling. Must have good dreams on this here lump of fuzz." My dad pats the couch. Dust billows out, filling the room. I cough.

"Uh, well I could see about grabbing some extra sheets." Again, with the head rubbing. His once neatly coiffed hair is now askew.

I glance at the stack of sheets, blankets and pillows at the floor of the couch. "These look fine. I should go grab my bag." I thumb over to the door and turn to walk to my truck.

"Yeah, sure. I'll be right here."

The lack of awkwardness when I arrived had lulled me into a false reality. It's awkward as shit now. I get to my truck and gather what little I brought. I have no idea how long I'm staying. I figured I'd go with the flow. If the flow remains as uncomfortable as the last ten minutes, I don't think I'll be staying long. I lock up the truck and wonder if I should park somewhere else. I make it back to my designated crash pad to ask my dad what I should do with it to find him talking to a really tall guy covered in ink. His greying hair is shaved in an undercut with the rest in a messy top knot. He turns his gaze to me as I enter, and I wonder if I'm already going to be asked to leave.

He's intimidating.

"Jackson, this is my boss, Grinder."

"Boss. As if you listen to anything I say." The guy turns to me, extending his hand in greeting. I take it and give a quick pump.

Damn. Tough grip.

"Nice to meet you."

"Oh, we've met. Just been a few years."

"Twelve," my dad says.

"Yup. Sorry about the shitty couch. Butch said you'd be staying a while and needed somewhere to crash. This god-awful thing has been deemed the crash couch for some reason, so have at it."

"Oh really? I heard it was a nice place to nap." I catch my dad wince as I let the cat out of the bag. Grinder grunts something, rubs his face and mumbles a word that sounds suspiciously like fuck. I'm not sure I should have teased this cat, but I couldn't resist messing with the two of them.

"Something like that," Grinder mumbles. "Hope you aren't an early to bed type. This place is about to get busy. You'd think the weekend would be the rush, but random Thursdays tend to bring in more clients than Fridays."

I nod. For some reason it makes sense. Weekends are for hanging out, celebrating. But a Thursday after a long day at work, feeling trapped in a job you hate or a miserable marriage...a little impulsive ink—as I called it earlier—might soothe the depression.

"You aren't jet lagged or anything?" Grinder asks with a smirk. "This place tends to mess with your internal clock as bad as changing time zones."

"Nah. I didn't come that far."

My dad clears his throat. "So, uh, where ya been living?"

I school my features, not wanting to look confused. "You don't know? How were you getting the money to mom?"

"Oh, she had me send it direct to her account."

Fuck. Who the hell have I been living with all these years? I knew she was brutal, but just fuck me with how she handled all this. Every new thing I hear makes it worse. When will I hit bottom?

"Okay. I grew up about four hours south of here. Similar neighborhood as this, I guess. Mom still lives in the double-wide she moved into." I pause, wondering if I should have given that away. Hell, she's been lying this entire time. Too bad for her if I drop all of her secrets.

"I moved out for college and now have a place with a couple of guys. Started my 9 to 5 but took a leave of absence to come here." Ah hell. I hadn't planned on dropping that. Looks like I'm spilling everyone's secrets.

"Aw, ya didn't have to go and do that. I woulda waited for you to have a break."

I shrug but say nothing. It felt urgent to me. Like I couldn't wait another second once I'd made the decision. My boss was understanding once I told him the situation. Thankfully. It's not the best first impression to make after starting only a couple of months before. Luckily, I can do most of my job remotely, so I told him I'd keep up as much as possible.

The guy told me not to stress about it. Not what I expected. Probably the first person in my life that's ever given me a break.

My dad looks to Grinder. "I tried to get him to work on the old hog with me, but he doesn't ride."

"I don't tinker with motors either." By the look the two men give me, I might as well have said I drink the blood of baby kittens. They're shocked.

"Hmm," Grinder rubs his bearded chin. "Not into bikes or motors." He shrugs in a "could be worse" kind of way. "What's your thing, then."

"My thing?"

He waves a hand in my direction. "The thing that you do to keep yourself sane."

I stifle a laugh. "Not sure I am sane." I rub my neck. "My dog kept me sane while she was with me. Got nothing else right now." Although I've had the urge to find some mud ever since bumping into Holly earlier. Would that keep me sane?

"Pets will do that. We got a dog for the kids a couple years back. Never seen a happier kid than when Eric first saw Zolan."

I nod, knowing the power a pet holds over a kid. I was that kid but now my baby girl is gone.

"Okay, we'll find something that does it. Now I've got to set up my station. I've got a long appointment coming in." Grinder pats my shoulder as he passes me.

I look back to my dad, his brows pulled tightly together in thought. "What?"

He shakes the look away. "Oh. Nothing. You want to hang out behind the counter with me? See the magic happen?"

What kind of magic happens in a tattoo parlor? I don't bother asking, ready to have a minute to myself and decompress from all of the bombs that went off tonight.

"Not tonight. I think I need some downtime." I toss my head toward the storage room I'll be sleeping in. Fuck. "I'll be in there."

Dad looks disappointed. I'd feel bad but I need a minute. Or a day. Fuck, after all the information I stumbled into tonight, I might need a month.

After closing the door to the little room, I take a seat on the couch, surprisingly comfortable, and pull out my phone. Do I call her? Do I confront my mom with everything?

Not now. I think it should be in person. I want to see her face when she tries to downplay everything like always. Nothing is ever her fault. I'm just an ungrateful brat after everything she's sacrificed for me. Funny, but it sounds like it was my dad who made all of the sacrifices.

I won't be forgetting that anytime soon.

Jackson...am I right? And yes, I know I'm writing another awful mother character. But trust me, no one, and I mean NO ONE will ever be as awful as Maria. She wins that prize hands down no competition. But Jackson's mom (who I have yet to name) is a close second. She has her reasons, which will be made clear eventually, but no real excuses for what she's done.

Holly is up next. And we'll find out more about her impressions of Jackson all grown up. Gah I just love her!!

This Aerosmith cover of the Beatles classic is just a little nuts. The lyrics make zero sense, but neither do half of the things Jackson learned tonight. Fitting.

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Want more?? Need to learn all the dirty details about Maria (Brax's mom)? If you haven't read the rest of the Blue Bloods books, there's no time like right now!