Page 39 of Sweet
Maybe he was a friend of Mr. Juarez’s, the rancher Spider had worked for. He wondered if Mr. and Mrs. Juarez were okay.
With that thought at the back of his mind, Spider opened the door a crack. “Can I help you?”
“Are you Spider?” the man asked.
“Who’s asking?”
“My name is Roberto Rivera; I’m Daisy’s father.”
Oh shit.That might be worse than Chino.
Spider’s heart began to race, but he opened the door and motioned for Mr. Rivera to enter. He was glad he wasn’t a slob, but there were three cups in the sink he’d been putting off, and there was no subtle way he could clean them before Daisy’s dad noticed.
The older man was scanning the apartment like a cop. He looked at the duffel bag by the door, the neatly made bed, the television and the kitchen.
“Would you like to sit down?” Spider asked. “I don’t have anything to drink. I can get you water or milk, but that’s all.”
“I don’t need a drink.” The man’s hands hung in his pockets, but he removed them when he sat and crossed his arms over his chest. “So you’re working for Bill and Ruby?”
For now. “Yes, sir.”
“As an artist? Do you have a… a license?” He frowned. “I don’t understand tattoos, but I’m assuming there’s a license of some kind.”
Spider sat across from him. “I completed the state-approved course for Bloodborne Pathogen Exposure Control, and I’ve been tattooing since I was about fourteen. I’ve been an artist for as long as I can remember.”
Mr. Rivera’s eyes never moved from him. “No one legal would have let you tattoo anyone when you were fourteen.”
“No, sir. I was in a gang then.” Spider’s heart felt like it was in his throat. Like he might puke at any moment and it would just fly out of his mouth and across the room, splattering blood everywhere. “I’m not in a gang anymore.”
Mr. Rivera didn’t storm off. He didn’t flinch, and he didn’t break eye contact. “Why were you in a gang when you were fourteen?”
Spider took a measured breath and tried to focus on the facts and not the feeling of his head exploding or his heart flying across the room. “My dad died, my mom was struggling, and they were the only ones that had an internship for poor kids in the neighborhood.”
“An internship?”
“Drug dealing.”
“Oh.”
“Sorry. Kind of a bad joke.” Spider didn’t look away. This was Daisy’s dad. Her family. If Spider loved her, he could tell the man the truth. “I was young, so I delivered whatever they wanted me to deliver, and I kept my mouth shut.” He kept his hands on the table. “In exchange, I made enough to buy groceries for my mom.”
“So you were in the gang for money?”
“And protection. Luckily they discovered that I knew how to draw and they let me train with the old guy who’d been tattooing the crew since the seventies. He’s the one who taught me how to tattoo.”
Leonard had died of a massive heart attack when Spider was sixteen, but by then Spider was already making a name for himself.
Daisy’s father cocked his head. “You must have been pretty good.”
“I was the best tattoo artist in LA,” Spider said. “Now I’m the best in Metlin.”
Mr. Rivera smiled a little. “I appreciate a man who knows his worth.”
“Oh, I’m not worth shit.” Spider crossed his arms over his chest. “I tattoo people; I’m not gonna cure cancer. But I love your daughter, and she’s pretty much the best person I know other than Betsy, so you can ask me whatever you want. Just don’t get mad at Daisy for keeping secrets; she wanted me to meet you months ago.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
