Tutus and Tinsel

By Rhys Ford

A Half Moon Bay Short

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
• Release date: Dec 21, 2018
• ISBN: 9781644051511

Rhys Ford

 Rhys Ford is an award-winning author with several long-running LGBT+ mystery, thriller, paranormal, and urban fantasy series and is a two-time LAMBDA finalist with her Murder and Mayhem novels. She is also a 2017 Gold and Silver Medal winner in the Florida Authors and Publishers President’s Book Awards for her novels Ink and Shadows and Hanging the Stars. She is published by Dreamspinner Press and DSP Publications. She shares the house with Harley, a gray tuxedo with a flower on her face, Badger, a disgruntled alley cat who isn’t sure living inside is a step up the social ladder, as well as a ginger cairn terrorist named Gus. Rhys is also enslaved to the upkeep of a 1979 Pontiac Firebird and enjoys murdering make-believe people. Rhys can be found at the following locations: Blog: www.rhysford.com Facebook: www.facebook.com/rhys.ford.author Twitter: @Rhys_Ford  

Book preview

Table of Contents

Blurb

Dedication

Acknowledgments

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

More from Rhys Ford

About the Author

By Rhys Ford

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Copyright

Tutus and Tinsel

By Rhys Ford

A Half Moon Bay Short

Zig Reid-Harris has everything an eleven-year-old girl could ever want—a great home, two fantastic fathers named Deacon Reid and Lang Harris, and all the books she could possibly read.

When a school assignment about holiday traditions unexpectedly broadsides her, she discovers burying the past isn’t as easy as it looks, and the stark reality of her life before her adoption sinks in. Ashamed of the bleakness and poverty she came from, Zig struggles with the assignment until an epiphany strikes the whole family—it’s time to start their own traditions.

Zig and her fathers plunge into the insanity of holiday joy, exploring everything the season has to offer and learning how precious family truly is along the way.

To everyone who has secretly longed to don a tutu and pair it with thick, heavy combat boots. Embrace your inner Zig.

This book is also dedicated to my road trip crew, Bru and Erin, who I was glad to share SoCal food, coffee, ink, and freeways with. May your coffee always be ready when you arrive and your char siu ramen bowls forever full. That said, I have STILL not forgiven both of you for tapping out on the Great Asian Dishonor Apocalypse. I shall have my revenge. Or at least another round of spicy ahi on crispy rice.

Acknowledgments

TO THE Five—Tamm, Lea, Jenn, and Penn—for contributing bits and bobs to Zig’s personality.

And to my beloved sisters in all but blood, Mary, Lisa, Ren, and Ree. A special thank-you to Michelle Mary Taylor for steering the boat a few times.

And as always, a massive thank-you to Elizabeth, Lynn, Liz, Naomi, and the rest of the Dreamspinner staff who not only make my mud pies look fantastic but keep me company as I walk along the edge.

One

SCREW IT! Everyone can go to hell! A door slammed somewhere in the front of Reid’s Auto Shop and was followed by a stomping frenzy worthy of a brontosaurus. There was more cursing, this time in a mangled Spanish, and then Zig returned to her tried and true favorites. Fucking shit!

One of the young mechanics—probably Eli—mumbled something, but it was hard to hear through the cinder block walls, despite the open double doors that led to the main shop. Hunkered over a ’71 Norton Commando, Deacon tightened down another gauge, counted to five, and grinned when Zig groaned loudly.

Shit! He’s supposed to be at Angel’s fixing something. Her dramatic sigh was worthy of a hippo in love with a crocodile prince. I already owe him two bucks when I get my allowance this week.

Maybe if you throw yourself onto the mercy of the court. Abe, Eli’s boyfriend and fellow mechanic chortled. The beefy young man passed the open door, carrying a box of parts to the car he’d been working on. You’d think you’d learn.

The oncoming storm muffled most of what they were saying, but Deacon figured Zig needed to vent a bit of steam before she made her way to the back of the shop, where he was working. Eli and Abe would hear her out, but neither of them would offer up much in the way of how to fix what was wrong. They’d make sympathetic murmurs, and when Zig reached a point where she was willing to listen, she’d come find him.

In a lot of ways, the auto shop was her home away from home… well, one of them. Lang’s bookstore, a few doors down, got a lot of Zig traffic as well. She earned money at the auto shop doing the odd job and then turned around and handed her hard-earned cash to the book store to satisfy her reading addiction. But as close as she was to Lang, she always sought out Deacon when life threw her a curveball.

Reid’s was busy with a constant flow of customers and cars that needed work. He’d brought on a few more mechanics, made Eli and Abe senior technicians, and hired a retired librarian named Mabel to man the front desk and answer calls. Mabel’s prim and proper exterior masked a woman with the heart and mouth of a pirate, and she ran the place as tightly as though she were the captain of a ship. She kept the sales books in order and warmed up the reception area with endless coffee and bright chatter.

All the growth in the front of the shop meant Deacon could concentrate on the work he did in the long bay attached to the back of the building.

As much as cars were the foundation of Reid’s success, his love of restoring and customizing classic motorcycles satisfied his soul. He loved the research as much as he did the tinkering and consulting with a bike’s owner on its specs and looks. Most of all he loved the relative solitude of the workroom of his own shop and bringing life back to beautiful machines.

The stomping continued and then stopped at the door, but Deacon focused on the bike and reached for one of the filters he brought with him from the front office. In the years since he’d adopted his niece and married his husband, Lang, he’d learned a few things about how to handle Zig, especially since she was more like him than her deceased mother. Where his sister would take the easy way out of things or con someone else into taking the blame, Zig met life head-on, ready to do battle with any and all obstacles.

Even the ones she should walk away from.

Deacon had learned a lot of hard lessons, some in prison for receiving stolen goods or in the rough, mean Long Beach neighborhoods where he and Zig grew up, but the most difficult thing he’d ever done was walk away from everything he knew and move to Half Moon Bay to start his life over.

The little girl standing at the double doors that connected the auto bays to the long receiving bay he’d converted to a cycle shop was worth every agonizing moment and every dollar he’d spent to make the move. He knew it the moment he picked her up from her foster home and put her into the sidecar of his motorcycle, and he vowed to be as perfect of a dad as he could, although he knew he’d fuck it up something fierce along the way.

He had, no question about it, but she kept coming back to him, and she held on tight when the world got too sharp and she grew brittle. They’d come a long way together and went even further when Lang joined their family. Still, it was hard to look into Zig’s enormous too-adult green eyes and not see the little girl who’d once needed a nightlight to fall asleep.

You heard me, right? Zig muttered, a bit of challenge in her voice. And I hate that the swear jar’s back. Sometimes I just want to say bad things.

At eleven and a half, Zig was getting tall. She was a coltish stretch of golden-skinned, smart-mouthed young girl on the verge of womanhood, and it broke Deacon’s heart a little bit to find the top of her head was getting a lot closer to his chin with every passing day. He’d been weak-willed one hot afternoon a few weeks ago and agreed to let Zig shave the underside of her head. He helped her parse out the line and then took a pair of clippers to her soft tumble of caramel curls. Lang came home to what he thought was a dead poodle on the kitchen floor and a sobbing Zig now shorn around her ears and filled with instant regret.

The tears lasted for an hour, and after two bowls of ice cream, Lang helped her even the line out while they both shot evil glares at Deacon as he sat quietly at the kitchen table, refusing to point out that the clippers and mane cut were Zig’s idea. He mentioned that no one could actually see her shaved skull under the wealth of hair she still had left, but the response he got was less than friendly.

A trip to the movies and a dinner at Zig’s favorite pizza place soon smoothed