Caging Grace, page 1
Cover design and interior formatting by Dark Unicorn Designs
Carsen Lane © copyright 2021
All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to a real person, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Published in the United States of America
Dedication:
To Sarah and Carissa
Not all love stories look the same.
&
In memory of my grandfather, and everyone courageous enough to leave the only country they’ve ever known behind and start anew.
Chapter One
“Lizzy, let’s go! I’m not gonna tell you again. If you make me late for my shift, I’m gonna tan your hide, girl.”
My little sister comes out of her room full of attitude as usual. We’re pretty close, but she has that teenage angst down pat. Since I’m the closest thing she has to a functioning parent, I usually get the brunt of it. Yay me. She heads to the fridge and opens the door, scowls at the lack of contents, and slams it shut.
“I’ve got a fight tonight. Mom had an unexpected bill show up, but I’ll shop after the fight, I promise.” I’m sure she can hear the hopelessness and apology in my voice. Hell, she can probably smell the desperation that hangs heavy in the air.
“It’s fine, Grace, I can get breakfast at school.”
She hates getting in the free breakfast line. It wasn’t that long ago that I had to use the same line. I know how it slowly eats away at your pride as you walk past the other kids who look down on you for it. We might not have much, but we’ve got our pride. I sigh and grab my bag and keys.
“Go give Ma a kiss and I’ll swing us by the McDonalds on Sixth Street. Frankie should be working today.”
“Yes!” The idea of food cheers her up, and she runs in to kiss our ma goodbye. Frankie's had a thing for me for years. I hate using it, knowing it’s never gonna go anywhere, but when it comes to feeding my family, I have no room for guilt. Shame, yeah, I’ve always got plenty of room for shame. It burrows down deep in my chest, but I push it aside and head for the bus stop.
We get off at the stop for McDonalds and I sigh in relief as I see Frankie’s beat-up old pickup in the parking lot. Luckily, it’s pretty dead this morning and we seem to be the only ones here.
“Go get a seat and I’ll be right there.” My sister doesn’t need to see me sink so low as to flirt for her breakfast.
“Hey, Grace, good to see ya. You here for breakfast?” Why else would I be here? Not for your stimulating conversation, Frank, I think. Then instantly the remorse hits. God, you’re such a bitch, Grace. I internally admonish myself and try to give him a genuine smile.
“I need to get something for Lizzy to eat before school,” I say as I pull out all the change in my pocket and try not to look him in the eye. I know he doesn’t judge me, nobody from our neighborhood ever would, but still. Sometimes compassionate looks sting just as much as judgmental ones.
“Your money is no good here, Grace, you know that.”
“You’re gonna get in trouble one of these days if you keep feeding strays.”
“Nah, I get to eat for free while I’m working as shift manager, and after smelling it all day, eating it is the last thing I wanna do. No use in it going to waste now.” He winks and sends me a hopeful smile and I die a little more inside. If only I could feel something back for Frankie. He’s such a good person, which means he should stay far away from me.
“Thanks, Frankie.”
He grabs a tray and tosses a few breakfast sandwiches on it. I push one of the sandwiches back toward him.
“Just one is fine.”
“Grace, you need to eat.”
“I’m fine, really, just the one.”
“You have a fight tonight and you’ll need your strength. Eat it.” He shoves them both in my direction and turns around to keep himself busy in the back. My pride is well known in the neighborhood. I’d pretty much do anything for Ma and Lizzy but refuse anything for myself. I grab the food and set it in front of my sister.
“Eat up, I’m late for my shift. Can you make it to school from here?”
“Come on, Grace, give me a little credit. I’m fifteen. I’m pretty sure I can manage three blocks.” She rolls her eyes at my protectiveness, and then rips into her wrapper like a rabid animal.
“Okay, hurry up and don’t be late.” I kiss her forehead and grab my backpack, shouting a goodbye to Frank on my way out the door.
* * *
On the bus I think about my upcoming fight, and how I ended up on this one-way track.
I think back to the situation that started it all, and I wonder if I never would have left that day, or maybe left just an hour earlier, if my life would have taken a different turn.
“Remember, Grace Ellen, you go directly to the corner store, and come right back home. You don’t stop, you don’t talk to anyone. You get the food, then come straight home. I’m trusting you to help with this, yeah?”
I squinted my eyes as I tried looking up at my giant of a father, while the sun shined right into them.
“Yeah, Da. I know, straight to store and straight home, no stopping ta jabber or nuttin’.” Da gave me a small smile as he ruffled my hair. He checked the time on his watch and swore under his breath.
“Okay, little one, Da’s got to be off to work now.” He pulled out his wallet and my eyes went big. We’d never had much money, so I’d never had any of my own. This was the first time I got to hold some. I know it wasn’t mine but buying the food for the family made me feel real grown up, not like the little ten-year-old I was.
“Show me you deserve my trust, Gracie.”
“I will, Da.” I watched as he dropped some folded cash into my little palm. I closed my fingers over the money real tight, not wanting to drop any of it.
“Okay, off I go. Make sure to stop in and check on your Ma as soon as you get back. After this fight I should be able to get the medicine she needs, but until then, just make sure she’s fed and warm. Yeah?”
“I will, Da, I’ll get the food and keep her warm.”
“Good girl. Okay, off wit ya.” He gave me a gentle shove and off I went.
I walked as fast as my little legs would carry me on the uneven street that had more cracks than pavement. I was small for my age, so my legs had to work twice as much as most, but I didn’t let it stop me. Every small step filled me with pride. I hated being treated like a baby needing to hold someone’s hand and having to be watched all the time. I took a short cut through a smelly alley—gah! I couldn’t tell if the smell was old meat or pee. But whatever it was, it smelled like freedom to me. I took a second to close my eyes and feel the warm sun on my face. It was nice to feel the warmth, it had been freezing lately. The kind of cold that sunk deep into your bones, and no amount of blankets could get rid of it. I heard horns honking, people yelling, and dogs barking, and I smiled as I got lost into my new world of freedom.
“Oy, Chris, look what we’ve got ’ere, it’s a tiny little waif.”
I refused to look over at the local wanna-be thugs as I sped up. Only two more blocks and I’d be at the little market. I could make it two blocks.
“Aw, Jimmy, looks like you scared ’er. Come on, little waif, where ya goin’?”
I walked as fast as I could go now, and I was thinking about running, but Da said not to show your fear. I squeezed the money tighter in my hand and I prayed my legs could make it, even though it felt like they were on fire. I made it to the end of the alley and could now see the store. I smiled, until someone grabbed the back of my ponytail and I screamed. It felt like they pulled my hair right out of my head and my eyes started to water. A dirty hand covered my mouth as I was slammed right up against one of those boys, so I blindly punched.
“Chris, lookie here, we got us a live one.”
“You let me go right now!” I spit out, after the hand let up. The one named Chris just laughed and sneered down at me.
“Or what?”
“Or I’m gonna tell my da, and he’ll kill you.” They found this even funnier.
“Can’t tell your Da if you’re not breathing, now can ya, little waif?”
The other one hit me in the tummy so hard and fast that I didn’t even see it coming. I was on the ground, holding my belly with my free hand while squeezing my other hand tighter around my money.
“Look, Jimmy, seems like we've hit the jackpot. Open your hand, little waif, let’s see whatcha got there.”
“Leave me alone,” I gasped out, sill squeezing my hand shut.
“Give it to us now or you’ll be sorry.”
I went to scream, but I didn’t get a chance before I was sucker punched again. This time I covered my head like my da taught me. The whole time I kept praying they wouldn’t get my money. We needed that money for food, and Ma had to have her medicine. They wouldn’t get my money; they’d have to kill me first.
Chapter Two
Of course I’m late getting to work again, but I keep my head down and avoid the manager as much as I can during my shift. I eye the clock one more time and sigh. Watching it doesn’t make time go by any faster. I eye the half-eaten plate of f
It isn’t always this bad. We aren’t at our worst, and that’s something to be proud of. No, those years aren’t worth remembering, so I block them out. It’s why I broke my father’s promise to my mother, which still haunts me every single day.
We don’t have health insurance since my mother didn’t exactly come over here legally, and her medicines are expensive. Her hospital visits are even worse, so it’s important that we keep up with her meds, so she doesn’t have an episode. It’s why I work three jobs and still can’t manage to keep my belly fed, or my head up.
“Hey beautiful, wanna fill me up?” the creepy guy over in the corner booth asks while grinning like an idiot. He doesn’t mean the coffee and he knows I know it very well, but I fix my glare on him and head over with the pot anyway.
I don’t give him a chance to harass me as I snatch up his chipped brown mug, top it off, and move on to the next booth, daring him with a final glare to call out to me again. Seeing Bernie shake his head and swear under his breath, I know I’m going to get another talking to at the end of my shift.
Apparently, you have to be Miss freaking America to be a waitress here. Nowhere in the requirements to work here did I see having to let the customers grope you, but apparently Bernie doesn’t care. I cash out my last few customers and count out my tips for the day. It’s enough to get some food before my fight tonight, so I’m happy with it. I remove my apron as I head to the back to close out my tabs for the day. Sure enough, Bernie is waiting for me by the computer.
“Grace, when you’re done, meet me in the office please, I need a word.” I roll my eyes when he turns his back, earning a giggle from Tina. I toss her a smile before I head back to get a tongue lashing.
“What can I do for ya, Bernie?”
“Grace, you are a beautiful girl, and it’s good for business.” I have to clench my fists at my side, so I don’t clock him.
“A smile goes so much further than a scowl. Your tips would be better too…how many times do I have to tell you this?”
“And how many times do I have to tell you that I sell food, not myself!” I bite back. My temper is always getting me in trouble. I know this, yet harnessing it is a task I’ve yet to accomplish.
“You know very well that I don’t expect you to sell yourself, Grace MacIntyre. But offering a pleasant smile and ‘have a nice day’ wouldn’t kill you!”
There’s no point in arguing so I just nod and wait for him to finish. It’s not like what he’s saying is wrong. Tina makes double what I do in tips every day. But she is made of sugar and honey, and I’m made with piss and vinegar. Even when I try to smile it comes off looking like I’m constipated, or so Tina says anyway.
Bernie gives me a close inspection, touching the side of my face, and moving my chin to the light.
“How many times have I told you, I don’t want you coming in here black and blue? It puts the customers off. You need to leave the bastard once and for all!”
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. If Bernie knew how I really got these bruises, I’d be fired in a heartbeat. I do my best Tina impression and place my hand on his arm.
“You’re right, Bernie, I really should, but it’s so hard for a girl to take care of herself these days, ya know?” I bat my lashes at him, and he melts right in front of me into a pile of goo. Hey, maybe there’s something to this sweetness thing after all.
“I know, Honey, but even you can do better.” Well, there goes the smile. Even me, huh? Thanks, asshole.
“I’ll make sure to put more makeup on next time,” I say as I turn to leave. I already wear enough to make a Kardashian proud, but it looks like I’m going to have to go for full on drag next time.
“Hold up there, Honey, I’m not done.” He starts rubbing his neck, and the nerves pouring off of him in waves cause the blood in my veins to turn to ice.
I slowly turn around and look straight at him, only he’s looking at the floor.
“If it was just the attitude, or even just the bruises we could work on that…but you were late again this morning, Grace.” It comes out almost as a question, but I refuse to make up an excuse or plead with this spineless man. I was late because I have real freaking responsibilities at home, like making sure my baby sister is fed, and I refuse to feel bad about that.
“So that’s it, huh? I’m fired?”
He squirms in his seat again, causing anger to boil beneath the surface. He could at least man up about it and do it with authority.
“Yes, I’m so sorry, Grace.”
And I’m so screwed.
Chapter Three
I hop on the overcrowded bus, squeezing myself in to make my way to my second home, Carl’s Gym. I practically grew up there, watching my dad train every day. When I’m not waiting on tables, or cleaning corporate offices, I’m at the gym. Carl is like a grandpa to me, not to mention to half of the Bronx. He’s a good man who does his best for the community and I love him dearly for it.
The outside of the gym has seen better days. You can say the same for the whole neighborhood, really. Every business around here could use a coat of paint and a bit of TLC. But where it’s shabby on the outside, the inside is well loved. Carl sank every single dime into this gym. It may not be pretty, but it is functional.
I pull the rusted door open with a squeak. I’m assaulted by humidity and the thick smell of sweat that hangs heavy in the air. Carl calls it the smell of success. I shake my head at the thought and make my way to his tiny little office.
“Hey old man. You keeping outta trouble?” I kiss his cheek as I come up behind him.
He’s the only one besides my family who knows I have a soft side. If it wasn’t for Carl, I’d be dead by now, so he’s earned his place in my inner circle.
“Hey Darlin’, you ready for tonight?”
“Do you even have to ask? I was trained by the best, of course I’m ready.”
He smiles, then takes a moment to scan me from head to foot. It’s something I’m used to now, but it’s still a bit off putting every time he does it. It tends to make me feel a bit like a racehorse.
“You need to eat.”
“There’s no way you can tell if I’ve eaten or not with just a look, you crazy old man.” But somehow that’s exactly what he can do. Every freaking time he’s always right on the money too.
“Shut your trap and sit down. You have just enough time to eat and let it settle before you condition.”
I stand there glaring at him for a moment, but we both know I won’t fight him. I promised long ago that his word was law. If he took me on and trained me, I’d follow everything he said without giving him any lip. So far ten years later, I’m still obeying. Not liking it, but still doing it. I make my way to his desk, and see two large burgers sitting there, along with a salad and water. I shake my head and smile at the crazy old man I’ve come to love so much.
The food smells like heaven and I don’t waste any time before I tear into it. Carl comes over with a scowl on his face.
“You need to eat, Grace, I’m not telling you again. That comes first, before your training, and damn sure before any fight. You know the rules.”
“The price of Mom’s meds went up, Carl, I’m doing my best.” I hate the weakness that slips into my tone. This is the only place I allow myself to feel vulnerable. Maybe it’s because Carl is like a father, or maybe it’s because he’s known me since I was so small that I allow him to see me like this. He’s already seen me at my lowest, so what does it matter?
“We need to get you out of the underground world. You gotta go legit, it’s the only way to make enough consistent money to stay afloat. You can’t keep killing yourself with all these jobs.” We’ve been here before, so he already knows my answer.
