Daddy Ink

by Ali Lyda

  The bane of being friends with such a sexy man is that a mind, unbidden, can turn anything into an innuendo or fantasy. A flash of how I’d rather be fulfilled by Gordo danced quickly across my mind before I managed to smother it down. “N-no, thanks.”

  Reagan popped out at that moment, though, and took one look at Gordo and me. “He likes vegetarian pizza, extra green olives, and artichoke hearts if you get it from someplace fancy.”

  “Ohhhh,” Gordo teased. “Such bourgie tastes in pizza! That’s okay, I like a man who knows what he wants.” He waggled his eyebrows at me, and my blush spread its prickly fingers up my scalp. “I shall return, dearest artist, with sustenance. Go and mark the people with your fine craftsmanship. Thank you, Benevolent Overlord, for the pizza tips.”

  He bowed to Reagan, who said, “Name’s Reagan. I’ve heard about you, Gordo—all good things. You should run before Javi here goes apoplectic.”

  Ever a good listener, Gordo was gone before I could protest. I shot a quick middle finger at a too amused-looking Reagan.

  “Uh, so you seem to have really hit it off with Gordo,” Mike said, a question in his tone.

  “Just g-good friends,” I said. “Oh, look at that, I have another tattoo.”

  Trinity led me to the customer, and I was all too happy to lose myself in listening to what they wanted, making it work with some of the flash tattoos we had ready, and getting them prepped. The hum of the machine kicked into gear, and I sank into the headspace I always did when starting a fresh tattoo.

  “Your boyfriend is so cute,” Trinity teased as she leaned nearby and watched me work.

  Her hair was currently a vibrant blue and green, curled in loose ringlets to her waist. My art might bring people into the studio, but Trinity had her own kind of appeal. If only people knew she also had a black belt in Judo and liked to read astrophysics articles for fun.

  “Not my boyfriend,” I growled.

  Dane barked a laugh. “Only because you’re a world class idiot, my boy. World. Class.”

  “He sure looked at you like a boyfriend is all I’m saying,” Trinity added. Sometimes she and Dane fought, but other times they egged each other on.

  “Well, s...s-say a little less.”

  Perhaps it was the stutter that told Trinity that I wasn’t up for teasing, or maybe she just felt like going easy on me today. Whatever the reason, she walked away and began to set her own station up for a fresh customer, leaving me to dive into my tattoo. As I started outlining, I had to work to keep my breathing level and my hand steady. Their ribbing shouldn’t bother me. They’d been giving me a hard time about Gordo for weeks now.

  So why was it setting me off this time?

  Probably because some small slice of me wished it was true. I kept trying to ignore it, and most days I managed to be thrilled with what I had. But since we’d found a good space in our friendship, Gordo hadn’t seemed interested in me at all the way he used to. Hell, the only time I’d been completely certain he had more in mind was when he’d been too drunk to know better.

  My coworkers liked to tease, but they couldn’t understand. Gordo knew me better now, and he’d made it clear where our relationship lay.

  I was just about to start the finer details of the tattoo’s outline when Reagan sat next to me.

  “Looks good,” he said gruffly.

  “Thanks for the g-gold star,” I huffed back, trying to stay focused. I hadn’t forgiven him quite yet for telling Gordo my preferences, though I didn’t know why it bothered me so much. I guess it felt a little like he was conspiring against me, even though I knew that was stupid.

  Reagan crossed his arms in front of his barrel of a chest. “Tell me about Gordo.” It was a demand, not a request.

  “He’s my friend. And neighbor.”

  “He came today to see you, to get you lunch, and to stare at you like you were made of gold and stardust.”

  My heart skipped in my chest. “That’s b-bullshit. Just. Friends.” I was clipping my words, a sign Reagan usually understood to mean I was feeling upset. A cue for him to back off. But apparently not today.

  “So you’re just friends. Why not more?”

  My chest felt tight, like a belt kept cinching around it, knot by knot until it was a struggle to breathe. I had to put my tattoo gun down for a moment and roll my shoulders. Get a grip.

  “L-let me finish this,” I managed.

  “Nope. Dane! You just finished, yeah? Come finish this up.” Reagan looked at my now confused customer. “Come back in next week, and I’ll set you up for a custom of any size at a forty percent discount, okay?”

  The customer smiled like he’d won the lottery and gave Reagan a thumbs-up. Reagan missed it, too busy staring at me. “You, office. Now.”

  Fuck.

  How was I thirty-three years old, and it felt like I’d been called into the principal’s office? When I got inside, Reagan barely waited for the door to be shut before he lit into me.

  “I have a feeling you’re about to give me an ultra-lame reason why you won’t consider dating Gordo.”

  My skin felt hot and too tight. “He has a b-baby girl. S...s-she’s his world. I c-c-can’t be a part of that, not like that!”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because I’m n-not good with families,” I said, hedging. My heart hammered in my chest.

  He grunted. “Not good with families? We’re a fucking family here, and you’re great. Did you not want kids?”

  Oh, I wanted them. I knew I did because of how quickly I had to shut down any time I started to dream about being able to have them—it hurt too much, knowing it would never happen. “It isn’t b-because of Gi-gi-Giuliana. She’s p-perfect.”

  “Gordo’s a secret asshole, then?”

  “N-n-no—” The stuttering was starting to take over as panic swarmed in on me.

  “So you can’t date a nice, good-looking guy with a perfect daughter because of what exactly?”

  It bubbled up on its own, before I could stop it. A lifetime of self-hatred and doubt that had been validated by all the doors slammed in my face. “I’m n-not g-good enough for him! S-something’s wrong with me, Reagan, and if I d-d-date him, Gordo will s...s-see it!”

  Hearing it said out loud—even though I was the one who said it—hurt almost more than thinking it, and without pause, I turned and punched the wall just hard enough to hurt a bit. The burn and sting across my knuckles helped focus me. Not for long, though, because when I turned back around, Reagan had moved to stand right in front of me.

  When he grabbed my shoulders, my gaze dropped submissively to the floor, so he let go and cupped my face in his hands instead, forcing me to look at him.

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Do you think I am a complete imbecile?”

  I was shaking. “N-no.” And I didn’t. Reagan was a man with a heart of gold and a sharp mind.

  “Do you trust me?”

  “W-with my life.” It was true.

  “Then listen to me—and I don’t ever, ever want to have this conversation again. You are smart, Javi. This event? It was your baby, and look how much good it’s doing. You’re an unbelievable artist who makes me fucking proud to have in my shop. You’re loyal. You’re observant. You make clients see what they want before they knew it themselves.

  “You make me laugh and you make me think and you are like family to me. You are so goddamn special and amazing and anyone would be lucky to have your love. Do you get that? Your love would be a gift.”

  He released my face and I leaned against the wall, scarcely able to hold myself up anymore.

  Reagan wasn’t finished. He poked a finger in my sternum, right over the shield. “If you think there could be more between you and the man who volunteered to get you your fancy-ass pizza, then go after it, Javi. Fight for it. Open your heart for once and let some love in, because you deserve it.”

  Then Reagan left me there, door slamming on his way out. I slid down the wall until I was crouched, k
nees tucked like it could prevent my heart from spilling out of me. Because that’s what it was threatening, to just leave my body and melt into a puddle, overloaded by too much—too much—

  I couldn’t bear to even think it.

  No one tells you that love can hurt so, so much more than loneliness. Reagan had just showered me in love when I hadn’t been prepared for it. And now I was in danger of believing him.

  Of thinking that maybe Reagan was right.

  And if he was, what would that mean for me and Gordo?

  15

  Gordo

  I was waiting at the restaurant for Javi’s pizza to finish baking when my phone began pinging me with an incoming onslaught of text messages. Worried it was Mason and something was wrong, I checked it, only to wish I hadn’t. Kyle again.

  Kyle: It’s important we talk.

  Kyle: You can’t shut me out like this.

  Kyle: There’s too much history between us.

  Kyle: Please, Gordo.

  Kyle: I just want to talk to you.

  My ex-husband hadn’t spoken one word to me since the divorce papers had been finalized, until that day when Javi brought over his impromptu picnic. Couldn’t Kyle understand that our relationship wasn’t a light switch that he could turn off and on whenever it suited him? I had given up so much for Kyle.

  When we’d graduated from college, he was the first boyfriend I introduced to my family. The one that pushed my father firmly into “you’re not my son” territory. Kyle had been there for me as I reconciled a new life that didn’t include my dad in it. When we’d married, I’d hoped the permanence of my relationship might thaw my father’s resolve. After all, I was in a devoted and legal marriage. Instead, my mother had called me to let me know how upset my dad was, and Kyle had been there to pick up the pieces again.

  When he’d walked out on me, I’d been able to hear my father’s righteousness in my mind. I just knew he’d heard the news and laughed, my failed marriage more proof of the wickedness of my sexual orientation. And I knew that some part of me would always hold that hurt over Kyle’s head.

  But the biggest hurt of all, the thing I could never forgive him for, was walking out on Giuliana. It was impossible to think of choosing a life without her in it. That he’d done it and been able to do so without looking back said enough about Kyle’s character to help me know I could never let him back in my life—or Giuliana’s. Ping.

  Kyle: I’ve spent a lot of time with a therapist, Gordo.

  Kyle: I really fucked up.

  Kyle: All I can think about is how badly I need to see you and talk to you.

  God, it was too much. I wanted to call him and chew him out, or to block Kyle and erase his name from my phone and life forever. But Giuliana had been up from 3:00 a.m. to 7:00 a.m., ready for bed just as I needed to start getting ready for work. I was tired, and if Kyle had been there…

  So much of this would have been easier if Kyle had been there. But he hadn’t been and nothing can ever change that.

  The guy behind the counter brough out Javi’s pizza, and I took it, glad to be reminded of my purpose. Feed friend first. Existential crisis after. But each step I took as I walked back to the tattoo parlor was an effort, my feet like lead. I didn’t want to go in there with Kyle on the brain. So I stopped at a bench and sat to call Christian.

  “What’s up, Gordo?”

  I didn’t waste any time getting to the point. “Kyle’s been texting me.”

  There was a pause. “For how long?”

  “On and off for the past two weeks. He’s in town, and he wants to talk.”

  “And you’re only now telling me this?”

  “You’ve been busy with Dane,” I said, but I knew that even if Christian hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have said anything until it got to be too much.

  “I’m always going to be here for you, even if I’m dating someone. You know that, right?”

  I sighed. “I know. I just don’t know what to do about it.”

  “I’ll tell you what to do: You tell Kyle to set himself on fire. You can’t let him screw things up between you and Javi.”

  My brows pressed together. “Javi and I are just friends.”

  The laughter I received in response was so long and hard it was almost out of character for Christian. I chewed on my cheek until he finished. “What?” I demanded.

  “When you wake up, who is the first person who isn’t Giuliana that you think about?”

  “Javi, but only because he usually hung out with us the night before.”

  “Uh huh,” Christian said, his gloating carrying like a banner through the phone line. “Which leads us to: who have you been spending all your time with?”

  “He’s my neighbor, Christian—”

  “Who do I hear about all the time? All those cutesy moments between Javi and Giuliana? About how happy it makes you to see someone make her laugh? I don’t even know my neighbor’s last name!”

  By that point I was concerned that hyperventilating was next for me.

  “I gotta go,” I said before hanging up. I couldn’t listen to it anymore. It felt impossible to even my breaths. Each was a ragged pull, my body starved not only for oxygen but for calm. Rather than helping me figure out what to do about Kyle, the call evoked in me feelings that were growing, thick and viscous, filling all the nooks and crannies of my soul.

  I had feelings for Javi.

  Not just wanting to jump his bones, not thinking that he’s sexy and someone I’d like to have a good time with in bed. Christian had been spot on. I thought of Javi when I woke up, hoping I’d get a chance to see him that day. I loved when he came over for lunch or dinner. It was a joy to see him play with Giuliana.

  Javi slid into our life seamlessly, knowing when I needed help or when I just wanted another adult to talk to at the end of a baby-filled day. His smile… his smile was often the highlight of my day. It boosted me, lifting me up and making me want to be more.

  And now his pizza was getting cold. I was going to have to bring it in and face him, knowing what I knew now. That things would never be the same for me. This wanting hadn’t snuck up; I’d been wrestling with wanting more with someone for too long. But what had slipped in when I wasn’t paying attention was the who. Because it was only Javi’s face in my mind, now.

  The line to get into the tattoo shop was still long, but Trinity was at the front desk, and she waved me in. “Go sit at his station, he’s just finishing up.”

  I wound my way over, taking the seat next to Javi. When he finished a line of color, he looked at me and smiled. My insides began to burst like fireworks, and I was thrilled and terrified and totally, completely smitten.

  “Got you food,” I said.

  “It smells good. I can’t eat while I’m gloved up and tattooing, though.”

  I looked down as I asked, timidly, if I was allowed to feed him bites.

  “Yeah, I think we can do that if I swivel away from my station.”

  So we did just that. He’d focus on an area of color, trying to explain to me what he was doing for the tattoo. After a few minutes, he’d wipe the skin and turn to lean so that the food wasn’t close to his hands or client. I’d poke a piece of pizza in his mouth, wishing his tongue would dart out to lick my fingers. It didn’t.

  When I glanced at the clock, I wanted to growl in frustration. I wanted to stay, to be close to him. Watching him work, so confident and talented, added new dimensions to the already complex idea of him I had. “I have to go,” I said dejectedly. “I have a video conference with a new client.”

  “No shit? A paying one?” Javi sounded so genuinely pleased, it made my mouth dry. As we’d gotten to know each other, I’d let him in on the fact that I was doing the center’s work basically pro bono in an effort to start a portfolio.

  “Yep. First paying client, and they come with a lot of networking potential.”

  “I’m so proud of you, Gordo. We should c-celebrate soon.”

  “How about tonight
? Come over after all this and we can toast both of our successes?” I’d invited him over plenty of times. But this time it felt different...and I suspected it sounded different to Javi, too. I knew it was because of the talk with Christian.

  Javi blushed briefly and for a quick second I thought he might say no. But instead, he smiled.

  “S-sure. See you tonight.”

  “Fuck. Yes.” My video conference had ended and somehow I’d not only nabbed a full half a year of work with them, but they were going to send some other people my way, too. It was a dream of a call, and I’d scoff and call it luck, but I’d been busting ass for it. I had made it happen, and I relished the moment even more because of it.

  There was a knock on my front door about a half hour later. Mason was there, Giuliana in his arms. “I don’t want to give her back,” he said. “Don’t make me.”

  “I’m pretty sure kidnapping is against the law. I’d have to call you to arrest yourself.”

  Giuliana giggled as Mason passed her over. It struck me how big she was getting. Only a few hours away, and it felt like I was seeing a whole new baby. Just weeks ago she’d been struggling to do tummy time, her arms and head floppy. Now she was this ball of energy and strength, her blue eyes turning dark. They’d most likely end up brown, like mine, which made me want to explode in pride and love.

  “Thanks for watching her, Mason.”