Bad Rep (Southern Ink Book 1) Read online

  ARC COPY **NOT FINAL EDITION**

  Bad Rep

  SoIn Series Book I

  By S. N. Garza

  Copyright © 2016 by Stephanie Nicole Garza

  Cover design by Airicka Phoenix @ Airicka’s Mystical Creations

  Photo by: Sara Eirew, photographer

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the work of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1514832264

  ISBN-10: 1514832267

  Published by Stephanie Nicole Garza

  Other Titles

  Available Now

  Bound Hearts

  Bound

  Sweet series

  My Sweet Temptation

  SoIn Series

  Bad Rep

  Second Chances

  His Second Chance

  Hot Houston Nights:

  Graham & Isabella, 1-3

  Grant & Pippah, 1-3

  Single Titles

  Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend

  X-Treme Measure

  Served

  Coming Soon

  Cross My Heart

  Writing as Stephanie Nicole Garza

  Pyro-Princess Design and Style series

  Love Came Back

  Perfect Storm/Brad Paisley

  Only a Memory/Icon for Hire

  Brave Heart/Hilary Duff

  My Baby’s Guns n’ Roses/Brantley Gilbert

  Run/Nicole Scherzinger

  The Right Kind of Wrong/LeAnn Rimes

  I Don’t Dance/Lee Brice

  Can’t Help Falling In Love/Elvis or Haley Reinhart

  Touch/Josh Abbott Band

  SONGS BY TAYLOR SWIFT

  Bad Blood

  Style

  All You Had to Do Was Stay

  I knew You Were Trouble

  Red

  Sad Beautiful Tragic

  This Love

  22

  Chapter 1

  Penny, freshman year

  I missed the bus, again! Great. This has been a regular occurrence since the beginning of the school year. Which was oh! Only three months ago! This is the seventh time I’ve had to stay late for an assignment. I wasn’t even in the smart classes. I’m an average student. Actually, I’m a borderline B student. I didn’t know why it was hard for me to learn sometimes, but I always ask a million questions. I don’t think I’m slow. I'm sure if I applied myself in my studies, I'd make better grades. Although other kids did make fun of me sometimes. I don’t let most of it get to me. I just easily get distracted.

  The only thing I was good at was playing my flute. Band was the only class I had an A in.

  I had a decent home life until two years ago when my dad got laid off from the chemical plant he had worked in for the past twenty-five years. My mother didn’t have to work then. He had to find another job and the pay cut was more than my parents were used to, which led to my mother having to find a job herself. She worked as a night cashier.

  So I stayed home most nights by myself. Since they both worked the evening shifts, I usually just fended for myself. I had a Netflix addiction like crazy.

  I had an older brother, Patrick, but my parents disowned him when he came out of the closet. Yes, my older brother was a homosexual and my parents; being die-hard Catholics thought it a travesty and at the young age of nineteen was told to pack his things and move out. That was six years ago. We had been pretty close, but I haven’t talked to him much since he moved to Houston. I didn't even know what he’s doing there. When he writes to me, all he ever mentions is how he was doing fine. And that he misses me. Not my parents. Me. He had always been an awesome older brother. Even though he was ten years older than I was, I missed him so much. He always had a way of making me feel good about myself.

  Except for the picture I had of us when I was eight, I could barely remember what he looked like. Maybe he’s changed drastically as he went to go find himself and live his life. My parents removed all pictures of him. As if he didn't exist anymore.

  I’m what my folks call a surprise baby. My parents were in their late thirties when they had me.

  That's how our small town was. A little bit on the religious side.

  Ha! A little?

  I did my best to stay the quiet, little nobody I was and stayed firmly under the strict thumb of my parents. They aren't bad people. But their views were so old-fashioned, and no one could sway them. The man ruled the roost and the little wife did as she was told. BAH!

  Our home was modest. A three bedroom, one bath home that was just enough room for us.

  Our little town of Lilton, Texas was so far out in the country that if you couldn't find it at the local general store or 7-11, you had to drive forty-five minutes to get to the outskirts of Houston to even find a Wal-Mart.

  Lilton was made up of three types of neighborhoods; which anyone could figure out. There’s the neighborhood that was deed restricted. It’s a gated community and had a guard and everything. Then there was where my parents lived. We’re your typical basic middle-class family. Maybe a little less than middle class because our home use to belong to my dad’s parents and then theirs before them. It's not the nicest home and it's the closest home to where the few trailer parks resided.

  Walking home from school was not what I had in mind today, but I didn't have a cell phone, so calling and asking for a ride was out of the question. Unlike a lot of other kids my age, we couldn't afford one.

  I didn’t have many friends. Well. One. I had exactly one friend. Sasha. We had been in band together since the sixth grade. Yeah. I’m a band nerd. Music was the only thing I never got wrong. Although trying out for the marching band…did not go well. I’m clumsy. Really clumsy.

  I loved being in band. I play the flute. It came to me naturally when I tried out way back then. Music was my thing. My passion. Music and reading. But not boring old text books. I loved mysteries. I watched every episode of Criminal Minds, NCIS, and Law & Order: SVU. Hence—the Netflix. Not that I’m in any way nerdy or techy, but I loved a good mystery.

  Sasha is one of the five black families that lived in our town. They lived in the trailer park a few streets down from my neighborhood. Her mother was a nurse at the hospital, and she worked all the time. She said her dad died when she was little and lived in Houston. He had been a cop and killed in the line of duty. They couldn't afford living there so her mother transferred to Lilton General. They moved in with Sasha’s grandmother.

  Sasha began to get popular when we hit high school and tried out for cheerleading. Then we kind of went our separate ways. She was always nice to me. We used to hang out sometimes after school to practice our instruments. But now? Not so much since high school started. She didn't snub me like most girls did though. I was the band nerd. The nobody. The loser. I never really understood that logic because there were a lot of chicks in band that were popular. I didn't think I was a nerd because I wasn't a part of the marching band. That was a little too much for me.

  But then the band geeks had their own group and I’m not really a part of that either. I kept to myself a lot.

  I was walking through town when I came up on an alley that cut off half the time it
took to get home. I turned onto the back alley, saving me the extra twenty minutes of walking. Only problem was, even when it was sunny and bright, this alley was dank and dark. A little creepy because it rained so heavily yesterday, so the walls are slimy and slick and the ground is riddled with puddles. But I didn't have a problem with that. The crime in this town was minimal and I wanted to get home.

  I was half way down ‘Knockturn Alley’ (Heeheehee, Harry Potter humor) when I heard multiple footsteps behind me. Not close enough to worry about, but I moved just a bit more quickly. I looked to the side to see what shop I was behind; Southern Ink tattoo parlor. I was turning my head to see if it was just some other kids taking a short cut too but instead it was three tall, dark figures shrouded in darkness. I paused for a moment and when they were twenty yards from me, I recognized them as the most popular guys in the senior class.

  I only knew that because every Friday we had a mandatory pep rally, and those three were on the football team. They’re always loud, obnoxious and hollering like Neanderthals. One of them had a little brother, Jimmy, and he was in band with me. So why were they following me? I don't know. The only thing I could think of was the incident in eighth grade. Jimmy and I were friends in fifth and sixth grade and joined band. Then eighth grade happened and he started trying to be more. When I didn't want more, he started with the name calling.

  Looking at these guys, they suddenly stopped when I looked at them and each one of them had a sneaky, snake-like smile on their faces. I turned and began running down the alleyway. I heard heavy their footsteps running and splashing, laughing along the way.

  “Wait up, Blondie!”

  Oh, crap. They were gaining on me. I was almost to the end, and could see rays of sunlight peeking out when I was tackled from behind.

  My hands hit the pavement hard and I could feel the uneven gravel pressing and scraping across my skin as I flew down. My hands protected my face, but I landed really hard and tears burned behind my eyelids. I let out a scream and hoped someone heard me.

  The guy on top of me grabbed a hold of my hair, which became damp from the muddy rain water on the asphalt. It was wet and smelled…not clean. He pushed my face down, and I felt the skin tear on my cheek.

  “Hey, retard. My little brother told me that you’re a big lesbo. You sure you don't like dick?”

  “Get off me.” I muffled, struggling to free myself but it was useless. The other two boys were standing back laughing and enjoying me being beat up on.

  The older brother, I didn't know his name, had turned me around, my floral blouse that my mom made me, was muddy and wet and plastered on my body. I shoved my palm upward on his nose.

  The only real self-defense I knew was from what I saw off TV. But it was good enough for the moment because I hit his nose hard and heard a crunch.

  “Fucking bitch!” The guy landed backward on his butt. I scrambled up and unto my feet and tried to run when he said. “Get her!”

  I began running as fast as I could but it was fruitless because they were bigger, stronger and faster.

  I felt a hand grab a fistful of my blouse, and pull me backwards until I was shoved up against the alley wall. My head met the brick none too gently, and I felt the wind get knocked out of me.

  “Hold her.” The guy I hit had blood running easily from his nose. “I like a fighter.”

  “Geoffrey, I don't think that's a good idea.” The one on my left said.

  “Then fucking leave. Pussy out if you have to.”

  Geoffrey.

  “We were just going to scare her.”

  “You too? Fucking leave then.”

  “Let's go.” The guy again on my left said.

  Geoffrey growled and then punched my stomach hard. Then I felt a punch to my ribs. I cried out. Toppling over.

  “HEY!” A deep voice yelled out in the darkness.

  “Fuck! Let's go!”

  Then Geoffrey leaned in, licked the shell of my ear (gross!) and whispered, “Until next time, lesbo. Oh and if you tell anyone, I promise you’ll regret it.”

  Then I looked to see them running down the alley way as feet ran past me. I fell to the ground, clutching my side. My face hurt, my hands hurt. Heck. Everything hurt. Tears were already falling from my eyes, and the sobbing that came from between my lips was coarse and uncontrollable.

  I tried to get up but my body just gave out. I just wanted to hurry home—oh, no! My dad and mom were going to freak!

  That seemed to make me cry harder. They would demand who done this to me, and then there'd be hell to pay when those boys found out. I didn't hear the other guy’s names but that didn't matter. My parents would not be pleased.

  I heard sloshing noises as feet ran back towards me and I just curled into a fetal position hoping it wasn’t Jimmy’s brother and those goons coming back for more.

  I felt a hand gently land on my shoulder but that didn't matter. Something snapped and I started kicking and fighting. Praying they'd just leave me alone.

  “Hey, easy there, brawler.” A deep, southern drawl pierced my ear drums and I took my hands away, opening my eyes. “That a girl. Easy, now. Ain't nobody gonna hurt you anymore, babygirl.”

  When I looked into the boy’s eyes, I was lost. They were a sparkling grey like a winter storm. His jet black hair was shorn on the sides, leaving thick hair long in the front and slicked back. He was the most beautiful boy I've ever seen. And he saved my life.

  I've seen him around before. He had a horrible reputation. Or so the rumors around this small town led me to believe. I let my eyes graze over him. He lived in the poor side of town. I never got to see him up front and personal before. I couldn’t help the heat that crawled up my face. He was so handsome and cute. A few years older than me at least and he looked at me like I was a human being.

  On his left arm was a tattoo sleeve of thorns that went down to his wrist and went up and underneath his shirt sleeve. He had high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and full lips.

  “Let me help you.”

  He reached out to me again and I jerked back. My heart began racing like crazy and then it was like I was in a cloud of fog.

  “Shit. You're hyperventilating. Breathe. You gotta let me help you.”

  I started to shake my head when his hands cupped my cheeks, and our eyes locked.

  “Breathe. Just breathe. I got you. No one will ever hurt you again. I promise. You’re so brave. My name is Deke Morgan. I work over at Southern Ink. Shit, honey. Your shirt is ripped. You're coming with me, little brawler.”

  The next thing I knew, he scooped me into his arms and told me to hold on. The only place to put my arms was around his neck and I held on for dear life. For the first time in so long, I felt safe. I felt the corded muscles that were drawn tight on his neck like he was straining.

  “I can walk. I know I'm heavy.”

  Deke looked down to me and smiled this charming, dazzling smile that showed off his white teeth.

  “Heavy? You're what? A buck twenty?”

  A what? The look of confusion showed on my face when he shook his head and explained.

  “You can't be over 120.”

  A small gasp escaped. “I'm more than that. But thanks.”

  “How much?”

  “You aren't supposed to ask girls that.”

  “Why not?”

  “It's inappropriate.”

  “Thank God I don't do appropriate anyway.”

  I don’t know why but that made me laugh. When my face scrunched, the pain that had melted away with Deke sprung to life and made my face hurt.

  Tears came back into my eyes and he cursed underneath his breath when he used his foot to open the back door to the parlor. It had been propped open.

  “We'll get you all fixed up.” He walked through a cool hallway and into a room where a couch, table and chairs sat with a TV. “Sit tight. Oh, uh, what's your name, little brawler?”

  “Penelope Handleman. Penny.”

  “Nice to meet you, Penelope
.”

  “Penny.”

  He chuckled and sat me gently on the couch. Then he was gone. And I knew this boy just ruined me.

  Chapter 2

  Deke

  Finally. I was at the place I could call home. Southern Ink. School was a drag and I’m glad to say I got early release to go to work. I was repeating my senior year at Lilton High and this year, the kids were even worse than the last bunch. Did kids just get dumber or was it just me? I was apprenticing at SoIn (what most of the people called the tattoo place) and learning the craft. I loved the atmosphere in here.

  I’ve been working here since I turned seventeen. I didn’t get the job by any normal standards. I was what this town called, the bad boy. The trouble maker. I’ve been to juvie more times than a person could count on their fingertips. Hence, why I was repeating my senior year. Absent too many days. I had been vandalizing this shop when the owner, Johnny, had caught me red handed with the spray paint in my possession. I didn’t think anyone was in the building. It was three in the morning and I hadn’t seen any lights on up front.

  So there I was, spray painting my version of the night sky when I heard, “With a little bit more practice, you could be a great artist.”

  The deep, rumbling voice scared the shit out of me and when I was about to make a run for it, he said, “Don’t bother running, son. I know exactly who you are.”

  My shoulders slumped, knowing exactly what was going to happen. I was seventeen now. I was most likely going to end up in jail this time. Charged as an adult.

  Fuck.

  “Turn around and look at me, boy.”

  I did reluctantly, knowing the guy wasn’t going to let me off the hook. The man before me was massive. Big broad shoulders, tats covering both arms and curled around his neck. A greying mustache and beard that made him look like a total badass. I couldn’t make out most of his face though. He was hidden deeper into the alley. Like he had been watching me.