Spark of Desire ; All for You

by Sheryl Lister

  “What she’s saying is, Dad should be the last person to pick your dates.” Ian turned to him. “It’s time to put a stop to that.”

  “Okay, everyone, can I have your attention?” Aria said, drawing his focus back to her. “We’re going to work on the Detroit River now.” Tina chose that moment to rejoin the group. “We’re going to use varying shades of blue and a little purple to bring out the detail in the water, give it a realistic quality. But in order to make purple, I want you to take a little bit of the red paint and mix it with blue.”

  Tina gasped. “Wow! I didn’t know red and blue made purple! I have to post this on my page.”

  Aria paused, her paintbrush midair. Her incredulous gaze met his. “Oh, damn,” she muttered.

  “What?” Mel deadpanned.

  Love tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked away from him. “This is awkward.”

  Myles punched both of his fists against his thighs, hoping to relieve his growing frustration with Tina, with his family, with the entire situation. But especially with himself. Ian was right. He’d spent far too much time being the good son, the one who didn’t rock the boat, the Jackson who did what was expected. No more. Strike three.

  * * *

  Myles walked into the restaurant later, loosening his tie. Sip and paint was finally over, and Tina was safely at home. The hostess led him to the private dining room El had reserved for Avery near the back of the building. He’d run into a few paparazzi outside, one of the downsides to having a famous Hollywood producer in the family.

  Inside the glassed-in space, his family sat around the table laughing and drinking. When he entered, they all paused mid-conversation.

  “What’s up?” He took a vacant seat next to Mel. “What did I miss?”

  “Where’s Tina?” Mel asked.

  “At home. I dropped her ass off.” The room erupted in a round of applause. Myles couldn’t help laughing at their antics. “Y’all get on my damn nerves.”

  El clasped his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Good job, bruh. You didn’t disappoint me. Tell my brother to stay out of your love life.”

  Ian slid a shot glass full of what Myles hoped was tequila. He needed a drink. After he’d dropped Tina off at home, she’d tried to entice him with sex. When he’d turned her down, she went crazy, calling him all sorts of names he’d never heard of but attributed to her age group. Then, after she did a weird neck roll and flicked him off, she stormed into her father’s house. Because, yes, she still lived with her parents.

  After he took the shot, Myles motioned to Ian to refill the glass. “Thanks, bruh.”

  They were at the newest night spot in downtown Ann Arbor, a restaurant that had recently been featured in Food and Drink Magazine. Located on Main Street, the restaurant had three different levels of privacy and experience. The private dining room El had reserved was on the third and top floor.

  Known as one of the best areas to live in the country, Ann Arbor had established itself as a place to meet, a place to be and a place to grow. It was home to the University of Michigan, a melting pot of different cultures, and a large city with a small-town feel. Myles had lived in the area for more than half of his life.

  Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, he watched people mill around, enjoying the setting, the nightlife and the June breeze. He’d seen a change in the area over the past several years. More and more businesses catering to the growing millennial population had set up shop in the downtown area, offering a wide variety of experiences from art galleries to wine bars to medical marijuana dispensaries. Although, he’d spent several years in Las Vegas as a child, he couldn’t call any other place home.

  “Are you good?” Ian asked.

  Myles nodded. “Yeah, I’m all right. It’s been a long day.”

  “Anything interesting happen at work today?”

  Myles and his brothers all worked for Michigan Medicine, formerly known as the University of Michigan Health System. Being a surgeon for one of the nation’s leading medical and research institutions was an honor. He’d worked hard in school, put in many hours of studying to become who he was today. Nothing and no one could take that away from him. But if he were being honest, his schedule had been wearing on him. He’d gone straight through undergrad to medical school, then through residency to a competitive and demanding fellowship. Now he was poised to open up a private cosmetic surgery practice with his father, one of the most sought-after plastic surgeons in the world. And Myles couldn’t help feeling unfulfilled.

  “I’m tired,” he admitted. “Work seems to get busier every day. My patient load is picking up, and the new practice logistics have taken a lot of my time.”

  Myles hadn’t intended to mention any of this to his twin. It wasn’t too long ago that he and Ian had argued over the control their father had on Myles’s life. As they’d grown into adulthood, each brother had carved out his own niche in medicine, going against Dr. Law’s plans for their lives. When El became an emergency psychiatrist instead of a plastic surgeon, it had seemingly set off a chain reaction of rebellion in his brothers. Drake followed, declaring cardiothoracic surgery as his specialty. Ian had never enjoyed plastics, preferring to help patients beyond the walls of the hospital. His twin had spent over a year volunteering for organizations such as the American Red Cross and, most recently, Doctors Without Borders. It wasn’t until Ian realized that he wanted to marry Bailee that he’d decided to stay close to home and become a trauma surgeon.

  That left Myles with the sole responsibility of carrying on their father’s legacy. It wasn’t something he took lightly. And it wasn’t something he didn’t want to do, despite what his family thought. While his father had turned his focus toward the more lucrative aesthetic aspects of the practice, Myles had chosen to concentrate on the reconstructive facets of his specialty. He wanted to improve the function of the body by correcting impairments caused by traumatic injuries, burns, disease, and congenital or developmental abnormalities. For some of his patients, the difficulties they faced due to abnormalities often lead to depression or worse. Helping his patients obtain true quality of life, after a corrective surgery, was extremely fulfilling for him.

  “When you say you’re tired, are you talking medicine? Or Dad? Or both?” Ian bit into a buttered piece of bread.

  Shrugging, Myles said, “Everything. I don’t know, I just feel unsettled, like my life isn’t mine.” It never has been mine.

  Things had been strained between all of them and their father, but lately Ian and Dad had come to an understanding of sorts, which led to more improvements in all of their relationships with Dr. Law. In recent months, his dad had attended several family events and had actually had fun and interacted with the family, dropping his all-business approach for fleeting moments. There was a long way to go, but it made Myles hopeful for more lasting change in the family dynamic.

  “I told you it—”

  “I don’t want to get into a deep conversation here, bruh. I just...needed to get that out.”

  Ian eyed him for a few moments before he sighed. “Okay.”

  He knew it took a lot for his brother to drop the subject. They were both stubborn as that damn day was long. But he appreciated his brother’s acquiescence, even though he was sure Ian would bring it up again sooner rather than later. It was just the nature of their relationship. Still, he couldn’t say it bothered him, because his twin brother was his best friend, the only person who knew mostly everything about him and never judged him.

  Before Myles could share the wild end to his “date” with Ian, he was rendered speechless yet again by the lovely woman approaching the table. Aria Bell had just joined the party, and Myles’s night had just looked up.

  Chapter 2

  “Shit.” The pain had intensified over the last several minutes. Aria should be used to it by now, but she wasn’t. “I feel faint.” She gasped. “I think you
’re doing it too hard.”

  “Don’t move,” Brent ordered, smacking her butt with his free hand. “It’s possible that you become more of a crybaby with each tattoo, Aria.”

  She let out a tiny giggle, followed by a growl. “Shut it. It hurts.”

  “Almost done,” he murmured.

  The low buzz of the tattoo gun was the only sound in the room for several more minutes as Aria’s best friend, Brent, finished the design she’d created. Soon Aria felt a soft washcloth against her side.

  “All done?” she asked, unable to hide her excitement at seeing her newest tattoo.

  “You’re all set.” Brent helped her up off the table, and she hurried to the full-length mirror he kept in his shop.

  From the moment she’d met Brent during her junior year in high school they’d been inseparable. They’d bonded over their love of art, ink and horror movies. He was the one person she felt comfortable being herself with. And even when she moved to New York City to pursue her art after high school graduation, he’d remained one of the most important people in her life.

  Aria took in the intricate details of the phoenix now lining her side. Her friend was a genius, and the only person she’d ever trust with a tattoo gun. “You’re amazing, Brent.” The orange, red and black design was perfect, just as vivid as the painting she’d created for her upcoming exhibition at the Charles H. Wright Museum in Detroit, Michigan.

  It was the culmination of a career that had seen devastating lows and amazing highs. Aria’s work as a professional artist spanned over a decade, and she had worked hard to get to this point. She’d spent hours in her studio creating paintings that she hoped would transcend time and evoke emotion in the observer. She’d presented her work in over thirty-five galleries, exhibitions, and other venues or mediums, including television and print. Her latest collection had received rave reviews from respected curators around the nation, with offers to show in several galleries. And it was an honor to exhibit in one of the country’s greatest museums of African American history.

  Tears threatened to spill as she met Brent’s smiling eyes in the mirror. She swallowed past the huge lump that had formed in her throat. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “No, thank you for letting me do it.” When she’d asked him to do the tattoo, she’d expected Brent to balk at her request to duplicate her own painting on her body. But he’d surprised her when he told her he would give it a try. It had taken a few sessions, but the finished product was worth the hours in the chair.

  “You’re the only one who could.”

  Brent had chosen not to pursue art in the way she had, but he created wonderful works of art every day as the owner of InkTown Tattoos. Although his parlor was located in Ann Arbor, next to her studio, the title of his shop was a play on their hometown of Inkster, Michigan.

  She twisted her body, still in awe over his work. “I’m so glad I’m back. Missed you.” Aria had recently moved back to Michigan for a change of scenery. Twelve years in Manhattan had taken a toll on her art and her life. She’d hit a wall creatively. So, when Brent mentioned wanting to purchase a new building for his shop, she started making plans to move. She approached Brent with the idea to partner with him on the purchase of the building, and now they were sitting in the newly renovated space that housed both of their businesses.

  Although she’d spent years honing her craft, she was ready to give back to the community, to teach art to others. Cocktails and Canvas opened to rave reviews a little over two months ago, and she couldn’t be happier. Next, she’d realize her dream of opening an art school.

  Brent pulled out his cell phone and winked. “Missed you, too.” Aria lifted up her arm, stretching so that Brent could take a pic of the design. He snapped a few photos. “But you’re seriously cramping my style with the ladies. For some reason, they don’t believe me when I tell them we’re just friends.”

  Aria laughed and shoved him playfully. “Which is a good thing, because that last chick you brought around should have stayed where you found her.”

  Brent owned a duplex, and had offered Aria the smaller unit next to his until she found a permanent place to live. It had only been eight months and she was ready to move. She loved Brent and didn’t mind living close to him, but she needed more space.

  Over the last several months, she’d seen countless properties in Ann Arbor and other surrounding suburbs like Ypsilanti and Canton, but she’d yet to settle on anything. The only thing she knew for sure was she wanted to purchase a home with enough square footage for a dedicated art studio where she could work.

  “Don’t play me.” He pointed at her. “I can’t help it if I’m irresistible.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Don’t you ever get tired of the bachelor life? Beer, takeout, women. And repeat. Every day.”

  Brent had never had a hard time finding a companion, with his lean body, long dreadlocks and dark skin. Women from all around made throwing themselves at him a sport. They couldn’t really go anywhere without him being propositioned.

  “Hey, I love my life. Beer is good. So are women and takeout,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, you’re one to talk about romantic choices,” he continued.

  “Is that what they’re calling booty calls now? Romantic choices?” She laughed when he threw a towel at her.

  “Maybe if you found a romantic choice, you wouldn’t be walking around in sweatpants and fluffy slippers all the time when you’re at home.”

  “Ha ha. I’m not dating anyone right now. My focus is on my career.”

  He frowned, staring at her until she fidgeted under his pensive gaze.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” she said. “We’re not talking about my love life. But seriously, Brent, you’re so intelligent. And you look good. You can do much better than the women you’re dating. It’s just like the paint party I did for Avery last week. Her brother in-law was fly. He’s a surgeon, very intelligent, intense... But then he brings an airhead who didn’t even know that red and blue made purple.”

  Brent barked out a laugh. “Who over the age of ten doesn’t know that?”

  She smacked her palms on her legs. “Exactly.”

  The room descended into silence for a moment before Brent said, “Aria, are you going to tell me what happened with Holloway?”

  “No, I’m not. We’re not having this discussion.”

  He approached her and tipped her chin up to meet his concerned gaze. “Listen, I’m glad you’re back. But I’m worried about you. You spent years building a life for yourself in your favorite city, and all of a sudden you pack up and move. I understand your parents are here, but—”

  “You’re here.”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever. I know how to book a flight and come see your ass.” He instructed her to hold still.

  Sighing, she let him place the plastic wrap over the tattoo to cover it. “I know. But, really, there is nothing to talk about. I came home because it was time.”

  Holloway had been her boyfriend for three years. They’d met when he offered to set up a show for her at a prominent gallery in Harlem. He’d done a lot to help her career early on in the relationship, but Aria soon realized his intentions were never really pure. He’d stolen earnings and art from her. Not only was he a thief, he was a lying cheater who’d paraded a string of women around the city while she’d been holed up in her studio working. Even though it wasn’t the deciding factor in her move, she couldn’t deny the drama with him had contributed to the stress that had marred her last year and a half in New York. But no one needed to know the sordid details of their breakup. Holloway Gray was in her past, and no longer a factor in her life.

  “Fine. I won’t push you. I never have.” He gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “But I want you to know that I’m here for you whenever you’re ready to talk about it.”

  Pulling him into a tight hug, she bu
rrowed into his warm embrace. “Thanks, babe. I love you for it.”

  “I love you, too. And if I need to use my fists on that asshole, I’m more than willing.”

  She pulled back and smiled up at him. “That’s why you’re my bestie.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Ugh, I hate when you call me that.”

  Giggling, she asked, “What should I call you then?”

  “Homie. How about that? Better yet? Brent? That’s even better. This is why you need some girlfriends. I’m so glad you joined that ladies-night-out group.”

  When Aria moved back to Ann Arbor, she’d met up with Avery Montgomery, a friend she’d worked with on occasion. Avery had invited her out for dinner one evening and introduced her to her sisters-in-law. Since then, they’d done several activities together, from winery tours to movies. Aria truly enjoyed the budding friendships. All of the women were a hoot and fun to be around.

  “I’m glad, too,” she said. “I especially love that they are so down-to-earth.”

  Avery produced one of Aria’s favorite television shows, but never flaunted her fame. When they got together, they didn’t discuss work or celebrities. The focus was to let loose, to have fun and to cultivate a sisterhood. Conversations were thoughtful and timely, not portentous or formal. There were no petty rivalries or shady overtones in the group. All of them, despite being married or related to one of the wealthiest families in Ann Arbor, and successful in their own right, were straightforward, fun and genuine women of color. And Aria felt blessed to have connected with them.

  “I get to pick the next activity,” Aria announced. “Tattoo party?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. If you hook me up with Mel.”

  She sliced a hand in the air. “Not a chance. She’s a good girl. I don’t want you loving and leaving her like you do everyone else.”

  “I should be offended, but I’m not.” He chuckled. “She’s fine as hell, though.”