House of Payne: Ice

by Stacy Gail

“Marinated fish tacos with my super-secret Baja sauce. It’s California cuisine at its best, and you’re going to love it,” she added when she saw her mother’s face, before heading for the door. Brisk cold air and bright sunshine hit her hard enough to make her blink a moment before she focused on the mailman. “Yes?”

  “I’m looking for a Sunny Fairfax to sign for a certified letter?”

  “That’s me.” Baffled and trying to think what it could be, she quickly scrawled her name and nodded her thanks as she was handed a plain envelope. There was no name, only an address, but that handwriting…

  “Sunny? What is it?”

  “He didn’t,” Sunny muttered, even as her mother joined her out on the wide front stoop. “I told him I wasn’t interested. I swear, if he did…”

  “If who did what?” With all the nosiness that only a mother could get away with, Claire peered over her shoulder as she ripped open the envelope.

  A check made out to her slipped into her palm, showcasing a staggering amount of zeroes. And that signature…

  Claire’s intake of breath was sharp. “Does that say Atticus?”

  “I will kill him.” Pushing past her mother, she grabbed up her jacket. “Go on without me, I’ll be back before you know it. And don’t order anything in for dinner behind my back,” she added, shoving the check back into the envelope and stuffing it into her jacket pocket. “By this time tomorrow, you’re going to be a big believer in fish tacos.”

  House Of Payne tattoo studio was easy for Sunny to find. She’d studied every last detail about it for years, even its location in the heart of the business district. Since she’d moved back to Chicago she’d driven by it a couple times, but she’d always managed to quell her curiosity. The tattooing world wasn’t a part of her life anymore, so dropping in for a fact-finding mission was a step backward, not forward.

  If there was one thing she made sure she did, it was to always, always move forward.

  That was the only way to survive.

  But of course, stopping by House Of Payne now was the only way to find Ice so she could kill him.

  Grim-faced, Sunny pushed through the revolving door and into the cavernous lower level of House of Payne, then came to a halt. Though she told herself not to fangirl, she was helpless to stop herself from taking it all in—black marble flooring, touchscreen kiosks to browse through the multitude of exclusive tattoo designs, a bustling, well-stocked gift shop, and off to the left a maze of white modular walls showcasing body art in a gallery-like setting. She’d seen pictures of that area online, during all sorts of press conferences. She even recognized the space where the pressers were held, right at the edge of the open-plan art gallery between twin towers of high-def flatscreens stacked about twelve feet high, flashing the pictures and bios of all the tattooists at House Of Payne. Each one of those tattooists were legends in their own way, but there was a time when she would have proudly pitted Skull and Bones Ink’s tattooists against the House’s any day.

  That time was long gone now, of course.

  And it still hurt like hell.

  “Oh my God, it’s you. Sunny Fairfax. It’s really you.”

  Surprised, Sunny looked around to find a tall, curvy woman heading toward her, wearing a kickass black ‘50s retro dress with a metric ton of red petticoats that didn’t quite hide her baby bump. Her two-toned platinum blonde and brown hair was up in victory rolls, and the skin exposed by the dress’s square neckline was brilliantly decorated with floral tattoos. Her makeup was so perfectly gorgeous and on-point that Sunny immediately felt like one of the dust bunnies she and Hannah had joked about up in the attic.

  Worse, she knew exactly who this woman was.

  Her idol.

  Her personal goddess.

  The organizational powerhouse behind House of Payne’s epic success.

  Scout Upton-Fournier.

  “Oh. Hi.” In the presence of the greatest business brain that had ever roamed the earth, Sunny could say nothing more. She was lucky she was able to come up with that much.

  “Hello.” Staring at her as if she were a ghost, Scout reached out perfectly manicured hands and grabbed hers. “I can’t believe I’m finally meeting you. I’ve wanted to meet you, talk to you, for so long, and now it’s happening and I’m probably freaking you the hell out by grabbing you like this, but oh my God, I’m such a fan of yours. I mean… you’re Sunny-fucking-Fairfax. My hero.”

  Sunny couldn’t believe her ears. “I-I am?”

  “Oh hell, yeah. Do you remember that one episode where those drunken frat boys came in and you wound up using a postcard rack like a frigging ninja stick to shove them out all the way into the ocean? You clocked them as trouble the moment they came in, and while everyone else was oblivious, you took care of business. Then when they started bleating about how important they were and that you couldn’t treat them that way, you told them that being wealthy and entitled didn’t prevent them from also being epic assholes.” She sighed dreamily. “I love that line.”

  “It wasn’t a line,” Sunny said with the beginnings of a starstruck grin. “In that moment I was just trying to channel you, because you’re Scout Upton, and when it was just you and Payne in the beginning, you had to play bouncer a time or two yourself. In fact, you’ve filled just about every position there is in order to build House Of Payne up to what it is today. I deliberately tried to do the same, because I felt that working every job was the only way to learn all the odd little nooks and crannies of Skull and Bones Ink. You were my inspiration to do that.”

  “No way.” Eyes wide, Scout stared at her for about a second before she tackle-hugged her, causing Sunny to stagger back. “Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Uh, really?” Stunned, and genuinely relieved she was still on her feet, Sunny awkwardly returned the hug before backing up to smile at the other woman. “Why’s that?”

  “Because I’m surrounded by off-the-wall lunatics masquerading as artists. Honestly, not one of them has a normal brain like we do. At this point I’m pretty much assuming you have to be crazy to be an artist.”

  “Wow, that’s amazing. I’ve often had that exact same thought.”

  “See? You’re normal. Oh thank God, you’re normal.” She gasped suddenly and clasped her hands prayer-like under her chin. “Are you here because you’d like to return to the world of ink and you want to work at House OF Payne? Please tell me that’s why you’re here, because that would be awesome.”

  Aw. “Anyone would love to work at House Of Payne—and I’m probably going to be looking for a new and more challenging job in the New Year—but I’m afraid I have to decline. Thank you, though. It’s nice to be appreciated.”

  “You’re more than appreciated. You’re needed. If you’re on the lookout for a new job, why not come here?”

  Well, this was awkward. “Uh, well…I could never work under the same roof as, um, your newest tattooist, unfortunately. I did that once and I’m not exactly anxious for a repeat performance.”

  Something flashed in the other woman’s eyes, a kind of understanding, before she waved a dismissive hand. “I’m in charge of scheduling. I could work it so that you and Ice would never even be in the building at the same time. You’re the one who put Skull and Bones Ink on the map because you’re a freaking genius at targeting your audience, in addition to being a great manager. I’ve got my third troublemaker on the way,” she added, putting a hand to her baby bump, “which means I’m going to need a lot of help in the near future. The last time I went on maternity leave, Payne managed to lock everyone out of their own schedules, freeze up the all the cash registers in the building, and in trying to fix all that, he somehow uninstalled our accounting software. I’m not going to go through that insanity again.”

  Horror shot through Sunny at the nightmare Scout described, but she could only shake her head. “I can’t imagine coming back to the world of ink, even though I adore it, to the point where I keep thinking of ways to market tattoos while
working the job I have now. Monthly subscription boxes,” she explained before Scout could ask. “They’re so hot right now that everyone seems to be getting into them. Does House Of Payne have one yet?”

  “No, but that’s a frigging killer idea, though I’m not sure how to set up something like that. Payne,” Scout called over Sunny’s shoulder, gesturing. Automatically, Sunny turned and watched Sebastian Payne step off a flight of metal and retro glass-brick stairs. Thanks to Sunny’s dedicated research on House Of Payne, its founder was as familiar to her as own family—spiky brown hair, hazel eyes that were heavy-lidded in a sultry, Elvis Presley kind of way, and dark scruff that underscored the most spectacular set of cheekbones the world had ever seen. Seeing him in person wasn’t quite as mind-blowing as it was meeting the great Scout Upton-Fournier, but it was damn close.

  “Look who it is.” Beaming from ear to ear, Scout gestured toward her with the finesse of a game show hostess. “It’s Sunny Fairfax, former manager of Skull and Bones Ink. Let’s tie her up and keep her that way until she agrees to work for us.”

  “I’m game if she is.” Despite the genial smile Sunny had seen a dozen or more times on the internet and TV, it never seemed to reach his eyes as he searched her face. “Sunny Fairfax, daughter of Archibald Fairfax. My mother adored your dad. She even worked as a volunteer for one of his campaigns for mayor when she wasn’t working herself to death cleaning other people’s houses. It’s good to finally meet you.”

  “Likewise.” Not quite sure what to make of him, she slipped her game face on and dipped into her purse. “I know how busy you both must be, so I’ll get right to the point. Would it be possible to drop this off for Ice? I don’t know where he lives or what his work hours are, so—”

  “Don’t you have his number?” Payne asked, surprising her. “As far as I know, he didn’t change it.”

  “I don’t have it anymore.” Not for anything would she admit that while she may have deleted Ice’s number from her phone, there was no way she could delete it from her memory. “Would it be all right if I left this up at the front desk to be delivered to him whenever he’s in?”

  “He’s in now, but he’s in a session with a client for another couple hours.” Scout held her hand out. “I can take it for you. I’ll put it in his box for him to pick up later.”

  “Take it up to him now, Sunny.” Before Sunny could give Scout the envelope, Payne caught Scout’s hand and gently eased it back down. “I’m sure he won’t mind if it’s you.”

  Sunny gaped at him, and she took some comfort that Scout was pretty much doing the same thing. “Um, if Ice is working… I’m sorry, it’s just that there was a hard and fast rule at Skull and Bones Ink that if a tattooist was working, they weren’t to be interrupted unless the place was on fire or a tsunami was about to hit.”

  “We have that same rule—well, not about the tsunami part, which is understandable, since the House isn’t sitting on the edge of the Pacific Ocean.” Scout sent Payne a speaking glance, but when he merely shrugged she heaved an irritated sigh. “But whatever. You’re the boss.”

  “Scout, on rare occasions, rules were made to be broken.” Payne pointed toward the upstairs mezzanine overlooking the bustling first floor. “Go on up, Sunny. Ice’s cubicle is on the left, all the way to the back. Each door has a light over it, and they’re lit up if there’s work going on inside. But just ignore that and give a quick knock before sticking your head in. I’m positive he won’t mind.”

  He must not know Ice all that well, Sunny thought as she climbed the stairs, and with each step her nerves ratcheted up all the more until her stomach was in knots and her mouth was like the Sahara. Ice loathed being bothered when he was working. No doubt he would bite her head off the moment she knocked, but this had to be done. She wanted nothing more to do with Skull and Bones Ink, not even the money from its sale that Ice believed she deserved. She’d moved on to a new chapter in her life, and while she wasn’t sure how that chapter was going to go, she was sure Ice and his money weren’t going to be in it.

  She just had to make him understand that.

  Once Sunny reached the second level, she spotted a dozen or more frosted glass tattoo booths, with the glass etched with House Of Payne’s famous logo. The majority of the lights above the booth doors were lit, which was to be expected on a busy Saturday. Her attention latched onto the light at the farthest booth on the left, and immediately her stomach executed several somersaults.

  Nope. Not gonna do it.

  She told herself she’d been trained to never interrupt a tattooist while they were at work, and she almost believed it as she headed down the long hallway of tattooing booths. But deep down she knew the truth. She didn’t want to see Ice again because she was a spineless coward. If she gave him so much as five minutes of her time, she might forget he was the worst thing in the world for her and give in to whatever he wanted.

  Playing hopscotch in the middle of Michigan Avenue was probably less dangerous.

  With that in mind, she slid the envelope resolutely under the booth’s door, then turned on her heel and headed for the stairs. There. Done. No muss, no fuss, and no freaking Ice. That should be the end of it once and for all.

  Behind her, the sound of a door opening reached her ears. “Stay right where you are, Sunny. Don’t you fucking move.”

  Shit.

  Chapter Seven

  With the envelope clenched in his fist, Ice looked back into the booth. “Five minutes, brother. I got a woman giving me a situation.”

  “I hear ya.” His client, a Route 66 devotee, patted his impressive gut, on which a colorful image of the Grand Canyon was partially done, before pulling out his phone. “Take your time, dude. Gonna take some kickass selfies while y’all have it out. Hashtag House of Payne.”

  “Great, thanks. You,” he added, pointing a finger at Sunny as he let the door swing shut behind him, “don’t get to pull this kind of shit—dropping crap you don’t want on my doorstep and then walking away without a word.”

  He was glad to see she had the grace to look ashamed. “I didn’t want to disturb you while you were working.”

  “Is that what that was? Or was it that you didn’t have the guts to give this to me in person?” Satisfaction bloomed when she flushed. “Never thought I’d see the day when you wouldn’t have the fucking spine to do something you know you needed to do. Getting pretty damn cowardly in your old age, Sunny.”

  “Cowardly? I’ll show you cowardly, you jerk.” With that serious, kiss-me-until-I-smile mouth of hers set in a grim line, she stomped toward him, snatched the envelope from his hand and stuffed it down the front of his Henley shirt. “I’m telling you to your face, just like I did last night, that I don’t want your damn guilt money. You feel bad for firing me after all the loyalty and devotion I showed you? Good. Deal with it like a man. But don’t you dare throw money at me just so you can make yourself feel better.”

  “The last thing I feel is guilty when it comes to making sure you’re protected from all the goddamn dark and dirty bullshit in this world.” Without a qualm, he snaked an arm around her waist and hauled her up against him. In an instant her warmth sank into every pore of his skin, and he almost groaned out loud. “My God, you feel like a miracle. How are you doing that?”

  She arched back against his arm. “Doing what?”

  “Making it so I can’t stand the thought of ever letting you go.”

  “Oh, sure,” she muttered, and the slight tremor in her voice made him smile. “Blame me for your problems.”

  “You’re reading me all wrong, Sunny day.”

  “How so?”

  “It’s no problem being addicted to the feel of you. I’m just amazed at how fast I’ve gotten hooked.” Like the addict he was, he took his time savoring her warmth and the feel of her body molding perfectly against him. When she hesitated in blasting him like he’d expected, he gently caught her hair in his free hand and looked unblinkingly into her eyes. “Go on, Sunny. Prove
you’re not getting hooked just like me. Tell me to let you go. Tell me not to get hard when I’ve got you pressed against me. Tell me to stop wondering if you’re getting wet because you love the feel of me, just as much as I love the feel of you. Tell me not to kiss you like I’m getting ready to spend the day fucking you.”

  “There are times when I really hate you.” Ignoring the list of options he’d given her, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders while her free hand went to his chest. “Now is one of those times.”

  “Because you can’t tell me any of those things?”

  “That’s it in a nutshell.” With that, she stood on tiptoe for a kiss he was already delivering.

  Yes.

  Fire ignited in his blood when she dived into the kiss without holding anything back, matching him hunger for hunger, need for need. He could feel her straining to get closer to him, something he understood all too well. He wanted to become a part of her, to crawl right into her skin, because nothing short of oneness was going to satisfy him.

  He wanted to be inside her.

  That was the bottom like.

  He wanted to be inside her.

  Fiery lust flooded through him, tightening his muscles and making his dick pulse so fiercely the ache became a kind of sweet agony. He tightened his arms and turned, taking her with him as he pushed her back up against the wall of his booth.

  Kissing her was extraordinary. It was sex. It was life and death. It was a promise of so much more.

  It was one promise he was determined to keep.

  “Ice.” She turned her head slightly to break free, but not away. That was promising. With her back up against the thick glass and his body pressing hungrily against hers, he knew she could feel not just his hard-on, but the furious beating of his heart. “What are you doing?”

  Jesus. “You can’t tell I’m kissing you?”

  “This isn’t just kissing. This is something else.”

  That was his Sunny. “You always were too damn smart for your own good. That brain of yours is part of what makes you so fucking sexy.”