Inky

by J. B. Hartnett

I laughed, “Not yet.”

  “Good. You look beautiful by the way. Your dress is going to cry from jealousy.”

  “We need to eat something before we get dressed. Anthony, come join us.” Trish led us into a sunroom. I guessed that’s what you call it. It was like a great big enclosed patio. I could have happily lived in just this room. A longer table was filled with all sorts of goodies from finger sandwiches to little quiches and fresh fruit. What I needed was something to calm my nerves to be honest.

  After Anthony had politely eaten, he set off to ready our dresses and accessories. Or that’s how it was explained to me. Trish and I were alone and I was trying my damnedest to not only relax, but not ruin my makeup.

  “Anika, relax! You’re even making me nervous.” She, on the other hand, was a vision of calm and beauty.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t want to mess anything up.”

  “You won’t. You’ll need a chisel to get the face off and I don’t think a tornado could move that hair.”

  I tried to drop my shoulders which I hadn’t realized were up near my ears. “I should’ve worn it down.”

  “What? You’re hair?” I assumed her eyebrows had shot up but whether it was the amount of makeup or use of Botox, I couldn’t be sure. I could hear the surprise in her voice though.

  “Yes. It would cover my back better.”

  She put down her cup of coffee and reached over to take my hand. Just as she did, I felt it important to ask, “Please don’t make me cry again.” And force a small smile.

  “Don’t hide it. You know what the difference is between you and them? The great divide is money, plain and simple. Some of them earned it, some of them have stolen it, some of them were born with it and some of them worked their asses off. It’s very easy to get caught up in it all but it’s a façade and nothing more. As long as you remember that…in fact, just try to picture them in their underwear. That’s what I do.” She made me laugh, which was a totally welcome emotion for my nerves.

  “At the risk of you telling me to mind my own business though, I do have a question for you.”

  “Ask away.” I prompted.

  “Where are your parents?”

  I let out a big breath. Then I let out another one. “That’s a very good question, Trish.”

  “Would you like me to find out?”

  Was she serious right now? She spent all that wasted effort on making me calm and serene and just undid it. “That won’t be necessary.” I said it with more bite than I intended to.

  “I’m sorry. I only know what Cole told me which is that you haven’t had contact with your mother in over ten years and you father has been absent since you were young.”

  “Trish, at the risk of having another little episode right here and now, I’m willing to take that risk because if anyone can get me out of it, I know you can so here goes. I don’t know why my dad left but he did. I also don’t know where he is either. My birth certificate doesn’t list a father. My mother is no longer living in the condo I grew up in with her. She used to date this guy with an accent, Joe. I always thought they’d eventually move in together but now I think he must’ve had a family. He was well dressed and I can only assume my mother was his mistress or something. I’m not sure. I don’t know anything else and I don’t want to.”

  I made my voice softer before I continued. “Trish? She could throw herself in front on me and beg and plead and I would not forgive her. I try to find peace in the assumption that she was sick but I’ve enacted a thousand scenarios of revenge in my head over the years, it’s hard to narrow it down to just one. You don’t even know what I’d do to her boyfriend. As far as my dad goes, he walked out and left me in the care of pure evil and even if he didn’t know…I’m not sure I can ever forgive that either.”

  I could feel my heart thudding in my chest but I knew I was safe from panic, for now anyway.

  “And you explained this to Cole?”

  “For the first time in my life, yes. I haven’t kept anything from Cole. If he asks me a question, I answer it without hesitation.”

  I hated to lay it all out there with Cole but he’d asked. He wanted me to tell him everything, holding nothing back and explain all my leaves. He listened, sometimes flinching, sometimes his jaw would twitch but I told him everything. We had pizza and beer, dedicating the night to me letting him in completely and letting as many of my demons out as I could. I knew he wouldn’t share all of that with Trish, not that I would have minded really. I just didn’t want to talk about it.

  She let go of my hand, but not without giving it a gentle squeeze. “I don’t want you to have any more surprises, dear. If I can help protect you from any more pain I will do just that. Your involvement with Cole will make you more and more visible to the public and eventually someone might decide to be opportunistic because of it. People talk, especially the nasty pieces of work I hob nob with. I want to protect you from not only them, but I want to make sure the likes of your mother never harm you again. That’s the reason I asked. I needed to know how you felt about your family.”

  “I don’t have any family, Trish.”

  She put the tips of her fingers just under my chin so I would look at her, “You do now, dear.”

  Chapter 30

  Cole’s fingers laced through mine and he hadn’t let me go all night. He even waited for me when I went to the restroom, right outside the door. If I hadn’t stopped him, I think he would have gladly joined me.

  “Are you always this possessive?” I asked, teasing him.

  “No, but when you look like you do tonight, I think I need to keep you close. Oh, and Mr. Drago Jr. has been eyeing you like you’re a juicy steak or something.’

  “Don’t worry. I like being your arm candy, Cole.”

  “Arm candy today, trophy wife tomorrow.”

  I smiled, knowing he meant every word. “I like the sound of that. Well, the wife part. The trophy part makes me picture my head on an Oscar statue.”

  “That doesn’t sound very feminine.”

  “No, not so much. Although, I feel like a princess in this dress.”

  “You do look beautiful.” His arms gripped into my side. “Did you pick this out or did my mother take over?”

  “Well, the designer girl, it’s her creation.”

  “She did a good job. Come on, let’s get out of here. I want to take you home.” He pulled me away and I could feel my long gown swoosh along behind me.

  Olaf and the boys were going to see to it that Trish made it back to Newport so Cole and I had the limo to ourselves. We’d already been at the event for a few hours and hadn’t run into his father, until now.

  “Cole.”

  I felt him tense at the sound of his name behind us. He slowly turned around but never let my hand go. “Father.”

  “Leaving so soon?” He asked, scotch in his hand.

  “We’ve been here for several hours. I left the bidding to mom.” He turned us to continue walking. “Goodnight.”

  “And what did you donate?” This stupid man still hasn’t acknowledged me but succeeded in stopping us.

  “Anika donated a painting on behalf of Trinity.”

  “I know she did.” He said, taking a sip.

  “Then why did you ask, father?”

  “Because I can.” Asshole. “Giuseppe’s son bought it for twenty-five.”

  Holy crap!

  “Do you know the Drago family, Anika?” He asked me. Apparently he did know I existed.

  “Not that I’m aware of. It’s a good cause though. I’m of the opinion you could pay that much for a scented candle at one of these things as long as it’s tax deductible.” Cole snickered at my comment.

  “Scented candle, unknown artist…much of a muchness.” His pinkie lifted from the glass as he made his snide remark. I had my own remark going through my head. Fuck. You.

  “I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure, father, but we really must be going.” Cole turned to lead us away again and I couldn’t h
ave been more grateful. Twice I’d met this man and twice he’d insulted me.

  “Your mother was right. She is quite good.”

  Do my ears deceive me?

  I turned back around and walked up to Richard Carlyle, leaving only a foot between us, “Do you do that on purpose?” I asked in a calm, even voice.

  “What do mean?” He asked.

  “You know exactly what I mean. Are you intentionally trying to get a rise out of me, Cole or both?”

  “Ms. Redding, in my experience with my son, he’s a terrible judge of character. I can’t say anything about you as a person but as an artist, his judgment is quite good.”

  “I think you’re a bully, Mr. Carlyle, which is probably how you came to be the powerful man you are today, but I will not be affected by you. You can say whatever you want about me, call me trash to my face, say my art is terrible…I don’t care. But I have the love of a wonderful man and that’s something you can’t buy or bully to get. Goodnight.”

  ***

  We sat in silence for what seemed like forever. “Can you ask the driver to pull the car over, Cole?”

  He picked up a phone and the car slowed to a stop on the side of the freeway. I walked onto the small embankment, my feet crunching into the ice-plant ground cover and proceeded to hurl my guts out on the side of the 405 freeway.

  “God, Anika, are you okay?” Cole ran to my side, carefully moving my dress and rubbed my back while I dry-heaved whatever was left in my stomach. The driver appeared with a bottle of water and a box of tissues, handing them to Cole. “Here,” He said. “Have a drink.”

  “It’s the adrenaline. I’m so sorry, Cole. I may have overstepped again. I shouldn’t have said that. That’s between you and your dad. I should’ve kept my feelings to myself.”

  “Are you done puking?” He asked.

  “I think so, yes.”

  He pulled me into a tight embrace, right there on the side of the freeway with cars rushing past, some honking every now and then. “I love that you did that. Nothing you say or do will change the relationship I have with my father but the fact that you said those things to him, it just makes me love you even more. You have an amazing, willful spirit. You’re so much stronger than you think you are. You’re…” He stopped for a moment, taking in my face. “Come on, I have plans for this dress.” He said pulling me toward the car.

  “Does the dress know what the plans are?” I asked, amused, even if a bit shaky.

  “Let’s just say the dress and I have an understanding.” His grin told me the dress wouldn’t be on for very long.

  ***

  Cole had to go out this morning so I took advantage of beachside living and went down to enjoy it. I watched the swells move across the vista, took deep breaths of the salty air and dug my toes into the sand and waited. Then I waited some more. Then I went upstairs and changed into my painting clothes and began flipping through Cole’s CD collection. I decided on Chris Isaak’s Forever Blue. I chose it because his voice moves through me like my own blood and only one other thing has ever made me feel the same way, Cole. I knew he’d find me here, he’d lay on the bed behind me and watch me paint but I needed to get outside my head for a little while. I also wanted to do something I’d never done before. I only hoped he would be a willing participant.

  I could feel the electricity in the room. I still found it odd that this happened between us. Just like that day at the bar when he held my hands. Without turning around, I decided to give him instructions.

  “Take your shirt off.”

  “It is off.” The raw timbre of his voice resonated through my chest, arousing me so much so that I almost lost my focus.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

  I could visualize the scene I wanted to paint; all I need was my model to complete it. I turned around to see he was naked, sprawled on the bed in a tangle of white sheets, the sheets we’d made love on only hours before. I moved to the mattress and arranged his arm to rest under his head and pulled the sheets just over his manhood. I wanted the painting to be sensual, not pornographic.

  “What are you doing, Anika?”

  “Okay. Can you stay like that for…a while?” I giggled.

  “Only if you kiss me first.” And I did. The deepest, most intense kiss I could to leave him filled with desire. It would make the painting even better.

  “There. You’re ready.” I stood back and imagined the scene before me on canvas. Perfect.

  “I’ll say I’m ready. Should I be worried? You have that intense look.”

  I turned the easel so I could paint without having to turn around, then hopped onto the bed next to him. “I’m gonna paint your portrait, the way I see you…with a little help from my other muse, Mr. Chris Isaak.” I gave him a wicked smile and a quick peck on the lips.

  “You know if I ever meet him, I might just have to kick his ass to prove I’m more of a man than he is.”

  I took my place in front of the canvas and picked up a brush, “That won’t be necessary. I’ll always come home to you.”

  “I’ll never get tired of hearing that.” He didn’t say anything at first. I waited. “Oh, I see what you did there, Anika.” I blew him a kiss as reassurance.

  “Okay, just relax. Let me know if you need a break.” I turned the little boom box up and continued painting. Every little nuance and detail of him: the movement of his dark brown bangs, the little lines on his forehead made more pronounced by his time spent in the sun, his lean muscular arms and torso and the contrast of his sun-kissed skin against white sheets…I wanted to capture his beauty and hang it above his bed, our bed.

  A few times through the CD and I was finished. I used a special product that made the paint dry more slowly when I was blending flesh tones. When I stepped back, as was always my habit, I felt his long fingers slide under the hem of my shirt, lightly brushing my skin. “It’s amazing, Anika. Just amazing.”

  “You like it?”

  “Like it? Baby, I love it. Where should we hang it?”

  “In your bedroom.”

  “You don’t think having a giant painting of myself hanging above our bed isn’t just a little self-absorbed? It doesn’t scream out, ‘I’m a God! Look at me looking at myself!’” He chuckled.

  I turned completely around and wound my fingers through his now messy hair. “We’ll find another place for it then. But no, in answer to your question. This is how I see you. When I picture you in repose, these are my feelings for you.”

  “In that case, you put it wherever you want. I’ll have to get someone to do one of you now, so my painting won’t get lonely.”

  “Or you could do it.” I bravely said.

  Apparently I said the wrong thing.

  His jaw tensed and twitched, the same way it did when he spoke to or about his father.

  I crouched down in front of him and tipped his chin to meet my eyes. “Hey. Look at me, Cole.” I waited until I knew he was back in the moment with me, out of the shadows. “I’m not asking you to do anything you don’t want to do, okay? But you’ve helped me get the hate out and what better way than to have something you can touch and see. But whatever you want to do is…” He left. He got up and walked down the stairs and left me at the foot of the mattress, taking his jeans with him. This was something I wasn’t used to. For a split second I thought about calling Trish and asking for her advice but I thought better of it. I needed to sort this out myself, with him, together.

  I looked out the windows onto the beach below and saw him walking up the coastline. I didn’t know how much time I should give him but thought, not too much. I didn’t want him to get so deep into his darkness that it made it harder to get back out. I did a quick rinse of the brushes I’d used and laid them out on a rag.

  I’d intended to go after him but on my way downstairs, something caught my eye lying in the center of Cole’s large bed: a sketch pad was situated smack dab in the middle opened to a rough white page with the sentence,

&nbs
p; For you, my Anika.

  The first page was a sketch of a hand, a woman’s hand. I assumed this was Cole’s sketching and Trish was right, he was good. Very good.

  The following page had writing again, Keep going, it said. I flipped it to see a female’s face, the neck and jaw and lips just visible with strands of hair across them. These were beautiful, absolutely incredible. I flipped the page again. For you, my Anika. Me. My face. Sleeping. I had no idea when he did it but these were all of me. I flipped the page again and read: Look to the pillows and come back with your gift.

  On one little black, velvet pillow was a small black velvet box.

  Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!

  I took the box in my hands and went back to the sketch pad. I hadn’t opened the little box yet. I was waiting for instructions on what to do next. I quickly looked around the room, just to see if he’d come back yet. Anxiously, I flipped the page and saw a sketch of my left hand. I flipped again and the page read:

  The next time I sketch your hand, my darling Anika, I hope what you find in that box will be on it.

  Oh yeah, I opened that freakin’ box. Inside was the most beautiful, elegant ring I had ever seen. I knew very little about diamonds. I didn’t care about cut or clarity or anything else. This ring could’ve been a cubic zirconia and I wouldn’t have cared but I knew it wasn’t. I knew this was special. A single band of inlaid tiny white diamonds with a pale blue diamond on top. It was a perfect round stone encased by its little tiny white diamond pals. It was beautiful. It was perfect. It was for me.

  Now that is what I call a proposal.

  My cheeks ached. Why did my cheeks ache? Oh yeah, I was smiling. I needed to go to him, right now. I slipped the ring onto my finger... perfect fit of course... and ran through the doorway with my heart beating out of my chest. I stopped mid-stride when my phone started ringing, wiping happy tears from my cheeks... I knew it had to be him. I ran to my bag and it stopped as soon as I reached it. Damn. It chirped that I had a message. I fumbled through my bag and took it out but not before admiring my hand adorned with the beautiful ring on it. I glanced down and saw a text message.