Ink Slapped

by A. M. Jones

  “I’ve dubbed that one The Smart Ass.”

  A woman steps beside me. She holds a cocktail out much like Taylor holds her cigarettes. I cringe from Taylor’s mother and look to see who she’s talking about. The stocky guy next to Taylor is covered in tattoos and sports a floppy Mohawk, and she’s smiling at him. They look like a nicely paired couple, as if they belong together.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because he’s a smart ass. I don’t like him, but then again, when do I ever like them?” She laughs.

  “She’s dating him?” I ask, because why not make this the most miserable night of my life?

  “If you can call it that.”

  “Eli.” Mom smiles as my dad twirls her under his arm while coming my direction. They glance at Taylor’s mom with questions in their eyes.

  “This is…” I motion to her not having a clue what her name is.

  “Eileen,” she says, holding out her hand in a refined way.

  “Taylor’s mother. This Gina and John. My parents.”

  My mom smiles at Eileen as they exchange pleasantries. This is not how our parents should meet.

  I sip beer, resisting the urge to chug. Eileen looks amused, but it’s obvious she doesn’t know how to respond to the current situation. “The procreators of The Coward.” Maybe she does.

  Beer goes up my nose as I choke. Mom swats my back, handing me a napkin as she releases a nervous laugh.

  Dad studies Eileen. “I concur.” He raises his glass to her, and she laughs. Him agreeing only makes me that much more uncomfortable.

  Just because I can’t help myself, I turn to Eileen. “What have you dubbed Adrian?”

  This earns me a glare. I shift my weight so I don’t turn into a statue. “Adrian who?”

  “Right.”

  She leans in. “But if you must know… The Cheater, The Liar, The Manipulator, The Controller, The Fuckin’ Asshole.” Downing the rest of her cocktail, she winks and walks toward the bar.

  “I would’ve been able to tell that woman is Taylor’s mother without the introduction.” My mom muses and glances at me. “How are you holding up?”

  “Good. I think I’m gonna head out.”

  A smile softens her eyes. “Of course.”

  “How about in the bathroom?”

  I glance at Gavin. A man who gets the job done and doesn’t want or need much else, except spontaneous romps where ever and whenever. Plus, he minds his own business, which is why coming here is out of character for him. “No, I’m at a function, and I’m not having sex with you right this second.”

  “It’ll be worth your while,” he breathes close to my ear and leans away as another body approaches the table to look at Tainted District stuff.

  “Is there anything with Maddie on it?”

  I force a smile. “Just Tainted District items tonight. I’m sorry.”

  I stand, needing a cigarette. The alcohol hits me a little too hard and the world tilts. Letting Amy know I’ll be back, I find the back door after grabbing two tubes of shots. I’m not sure what they are, but they smell tasty. The freezing air hits my skin and goose bumps erupt. Taking one shot, creamy sweetness spreads across my tongue as I down it. It’s good. What is that? Butterscotch? I release a shaky breath as the door opens, slinging into my back.

  “Ow!”

  “Taylor?” I rub my lower back and glance at Eli. The light in the alley beams across half his body as the other half stays in shadow. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was standing in front of the door.”

  “Not a big deal.” I go to step by him, but he stops me.

  “I wasn’t following you. Just leaving.”

  I nod, stepping around him again, and he tries to move but ends up in my way. We go back and forth for a second before he laughs.

  I laugh, too. “This isn’t awkward or anything.” The words might be a little blurred together.

  “You don’t say?” I almost glare at his obvious enjoyment of my obvious intoxication.

  Lifting the shooter in affirmation, I put it to my mouth, but he takes my wrist.

  “What are you shooting?” He brings the tube to his nose. “Ah, a Buttery Nipple.”

  “It’s a what?” I glance at the shooter. “Buttery Nipple,” I try the name out and resolve it sounds as good as it is.

  “Yes, butterscotch liqueur and Irish cream. Can make you sick if you’re not careful,” he finishes with a foggy whisper into the chilly air.

  Shrugging, I down the shot anyway. He pulls a hair out of my mouth, brushing strands over my shoulder. I close my eyes as his hand skims my neck. I snap my eyes open and smack his hand away. “No taking advantage of my drunken state.” Meeting his gaze, want and other things flare in his eyes. I continue, “But maybe that’s what we need.”

  Clutching the waistband of his jeans and belt, I jerk him toward me. Soft hair tickles my knuckles. His eyes widen, either in surprise or because of my cold hands. “What do we need?” he asks, regarding my hand halfway in his pants. His gaze switches to my cleavage when I press against him. The warmth emitting from him makes me want to wrap him around my body.

  I put my lips on the corner of his mouth so he’ll feel them move. “Go have a fuck somewhere. You know, get it over with so you’ll lose interest. I know I will because I sure as hell admire you a lot more since you put on your big boy panties to work things out with your wife. Maybe if we went ahead with an affair, I’d lose respect for you.”

  My back hits a wall. My grip slips from his jeans. I close my eyes, not wanting to see his face since I’ve spoken my mind. His body presses into mine.

  “Maybe we should, but I’ll tell you, I doubt I’d lose anything for you,” he huffs into my ear and pushes away from me. We stare each other down. The alley light reflects in his eyes. “Do you think that’s all you are? Something I can’t have? Don’t you think if that were the case, I’d have already had you?” His voice is harsh and low, but the rocky tone bounces off the walls of the alley like steel pinballs.

  “Eli?” A voice calls—the sound unwanted and ill-timed. The tapping of heels grows closer. Madison steps into a brighter area, glancing between the two of us. When she spots me, her demeanor changes. She stares at Eli for so long, I automatically know they’re having a conversation without speaking. I swallow an unfamiliar feeling like bitter cough syrup. She glances at me. “Old lover’s spat?”

  I consider not acknowledging her, but not when I have much to say. “Eli and I have never been lovers. You made sure of that when you threatened to sue me.” I step closer to her, but she’s not paying me any attention. She has a stricken look on her face. Before I can even steal a peek at Eli, he opens the door, pushes me inside, and slams it closed in my face.

  I stagger and people stop to watch me. When I straighten myself, I hurry back to my seat. Amy says something, but I don’t catch it over the music and just smile. The crowd seems to thin in the booth area and thicken on the dance floor. Gavin takes a seat, handing me another beer. What in the hell just happened? I blink through my dry eyes.

  He laughs. “You’re looking googly eyed.”

  “Such is life.” I lean backward, sniffing my beer and sipping like a fine wine. Not even a minute later, Eli’s voice floats through the speakers. Something about a special treat. I narrow my eyes as the dreaded notes start from his guitar. Oh no. They’re going to sing the duet—the epitome of my continuous torment. I go to drink more beer, but the glass is empty. “Who the fuck drank my beer?”

  Gavin raises his brows and bites his lip, looking from Amy to me. “You did.”

  He smiles. I let my gaze linger before traveling along his tattooed-arm that’s draped over the back of his chair. Standing, I pull Gavin with me. “I think I’ll take you up on your offer now.”

  This seems to spur him into action. I let him lead, and he finds somewhere in record time. Although, I can still hear everything else going on. I can still hear the two people on stage sing about undying love and a
ll that bullshit. Gavin’s hands roam my body and his lips attack mine. Where ever we are, it’s pitch black, but I close my eyes, anyway. I take myself to a place where it’s just Gavin and me. Gavin, me, and the tears he can’t see.

  The overhead lights are bright as we pack the booth. I’ve sobered some and can’t bring myself to look anyone in the eye. Gavin grabs two boxes at once. “I’ll take these to your car.”

  “Uh, those go to Tainted District’s van. It’s parked in the loading area.” He goes in the direction I point.

  I bump sideways into a body.

  After meeting my gaze, Eli scans my body and then my face, lingering on my lips. His nostrils flare and his mouth tightens. I turn from him as he backs away and places two books on the table. “I need these.” One is the final of the Death to Demons and the other Turmoil.

  “You can have them.”

  He clicks a pen and hands it to me. “Sign them.”

  I sign in a rush. “A-are you okay?” My question comes slow and reluctant.

  He bends to my ear. “No. No, I’m not. You should’ve come to me when Madison threatened you.” He pauses like he has more to say and unsure if he should say it. “And it should’ve been me devouring you in a closet.” He grabs the books and walks away without looking back.

  The next morning, I’m distraught over my behavior. My resolve to keep everything to myself went out the window, shattering glass on its way out. All because I had a little too much to drink.

  I keep begging myself to be fine—to move on. Time has healed nothing because the wound was sliced back open. Some say the first cut is the deepest, but that’s not true. It always hurts more if scars are already there.

  Tainted District is rising in popularity, bursting beyond the indie music scene because of Highway. I’m proud of them, even if it costs me my relationship with Eli. They deserve it. Crockett deserves it. Not to mention, and despite his parting words, Eli has a happier and lighter look to him. Healthy and well-rested. He’s been taking care of himself.

  I sigh and look at the hussy in the mirror before scrubbing my face with a micro peel until I’m raw. Keeping on my PJs, I doubt Gavin will make an appearance since I took advantage of his suggestion as soon as Eli and Madison hit the stage. And then Eli—my hands shake as I think about his anger. He never ceases to split me wide open.

  In all honesty, I half expect Eli to show and talk about what I said outside. It obviously bothered him. Hours creep by, but he never shows. This is good. I don’t need his distraction.

  I go through the bible. Not the Bible, Bible, but T.M. Dabney’s bible. My composition notebook packed full of all ideas for plots, characters, settings, prosed sentences, and dialogue scenes. I replace it on the shelf and finger The Death to Demon series bible before leaving it in its place on the shelf.

  Since I’ve completed the demon series, I’m at a loss for what I want to get started on next. I miss writing Zara and Jaxon, but it’s time to let them go. Their story is satisfying, and it’s over. I’ve spent the last few weeks getting out of this funk I seem to be in about it. It’s time to move on.

  I have several ideas in mind, but my heart isn’t in any enough to get started. I spend a few hours staring at a blank screen before hopping on the elliptical machine I purchased about a month back.

  I’m on the stability ball when a knock sounds. Knowing who it is, I open the door to let Crockett in. We had set a time to go over earnings for his charity of choice.

  “Hey, luscious. You’re looking… sweaty.” He kisses my cheek on the way in. I glance at the clock, realizing he’s late. Not that I care or anything, but… “Sorry, I’m late. Eli called a practice. He wrote a new song.”

  At least he can write something. I sigh. “It’s fine. I wasn’t watching the clock or anything.”

  “Apparently.”

  “Mind if I shower real quick?”

  He waves me away, and I take a quick one, dressing in something a little warmer. When I come out, Crockett shuts the front door with a vase of flowers in his hand.

  “Wow. Gavin must be stepping it up,” he says, but something in his tone is off-putting.

  Looking in the middle of them, there’s no card. “Where’s the card?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe they forgot to put it in there… or you have a secret admirer.”

  “We know it isn’t Gavin. He’d take credit for something he’d never think of doing.” I take the vase from Crockett and set it on my breakfast bar. It brightens the space. The flowers look wild, and I’m not sure what they are. I’m afraid I know who sent these flowers, and it doesn’t bode well.

  Giving the flowers one last look, we go about our business.

  About a week later, I’m into a new series. It’s slow going as I get to know my characters, but I love them already. I have a simple outline of important series events, and this time there will be four books total. The research on this will be fun since it’s set in a dystopian world with a Gothic style. I hope I can pull it off. I will certainly try.

  A knock pulls me from the flow. I’m already irritated about it, so when I see who it is, anxiety causes my body to tense.

  “I know. I should’ve called.” Adrian peers at me with puppy dog eyes. “Give me five minutes.”

  Scrubbing my face with my hands, I say, “I have nothing to say, Adrian.” I want to ask what he’s doing here, but I refrain. Getting into a conversation with him will be a mistake.

  “Did you get your Christmas present? And the flowers?”

  I’m saved from answering right away when my phone buzzes. I yank it from my back pocket. “Yo.” Silence. “Hello?”

  “Taylor.” Eli clears his throat as my stomach sinks. I should’ve looked at the name. “I need to talk to you.”

  I chew my finger, looking away from Adrian still standing in my doorway. I watch a plane come in from the west toward the airport from my balcony window. My handprints are smudged on the glass. I should clean that. “So talk.”

  “In person. Can you meet me?”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “Look, it’s taken me days to work up this nerve. It’s important. Please?”

  The way he says please pierces my heart and sends currents through my already stricken nerves. I walk to my desk and pace back and forth, biting my lips together for a second. “Okay. Text me where.” After all, it’ll get me away from Adrian. When I click off, I say, “I’m seeing someone, Adrian. So whatever you have to say is moot.”

  His face twists in a wince. “It’s Eli, isn’t it?”

  I blink, hating that he thinks he has a right to ask me anything. “No. He’s married, remember? And anyway.” I grab my bag from the hook on the back of the door and throw on a coat. “I need to jet.”

  “Okay, but will you at least talk to me before I fly back to New York?”

  I pinch my lips together. “Fine. You can talk on the way out.”

  “Thank you,” he says as we walk toward the elevator. When we get in, he studies me. “You look great.” At the look I give him, he takes a step back. “I didn’t come here to grovel. I mean, I miss you. I do. I hate throwing away five years over a stupid mistake.”

  I stroll out of the elevator as soon as it opens. “About that—”

  “I love you, T. Always will. I want you to know I’m waiting on you to cool off and maybe we can see where it takes us down the line.”

  “I told you I’m seeing someone.”

  He scoffs. “Probably just some rebound guy with tattoos.”

  Blood races to my face. I hate he guessed on the first try. I stop when I get outside. The ground is wet from melting snow. “I had no idea about you and Savannah until you gave yourself away.”

  It takes a few seconds for that to sink in and his face falls. “So it wasn’t over my stupid mistake.”

  “No.”

  He shakes his head. “Like mother, like daughter.”

  “Fuck you.” With that, I turn and walk away, more shaken
than I want to admit.

  After the scene with Adrian, and now, I’m a nervous wreck walking into a small sports pub where Eli can have semblance of anonymity. The wood paneling makes the pub extra dark. I walk past someone with a huge plate of Nashville hot chicken and biscuits, making my mouth water.

  Eli sits in a corner booth when I find him. As I slide in on the opposite side, I can feel him assessing me as I remove my coat.

  Why can’t I tell him to fuck off? He even warned me to tell him to fuck off, but I’m drawn to him. There’s no denying I want him in my life and the same for him if last night was of any evidence.

  “Hey.” His voice tumbles over me. He rests his elbows on the table and folds his hands under his chin. The sleeves of his worn shirt are rolled up his forearms. Leather cuffs wrap his wrists and are tied with little straps. The bottom layer of hair around his neck and jaw is curlier than the rest. I’ve seen his hair this way before, like he didn’t brush it after it dried from the shower. It makes me want to run my fingers through it. When I lick my lips, his gaze flicks to them.

  I pull my ponytail tight and bring it around my shoulder to fiddle with it. Not saying anything, I give him a tight smile.

  “It’s just me, Taylor.” A pained expression rolls across his face. “I wish you wouldn’t be so anxious.”

  “Easy for you to say, Mr. Rock Star.” This comes out more bitter than I intend.

  “Don’t say that. I was telling the truth when I told you I didn’t want to do it.”

  “Yeah? Then why’d you do it?”

  A tightness forms around his eyes—suspicion. “Why did you?”

  “You think I’d throw you away to save me legal problems?” I snort and shake my head. “I can’t do this.”

  When I stand, he grabs my arm and heaves me to his side of the table. The smell of him hits my nostrils, and I try to pull away. He glances across the pub, but no one is paying us any mind. “Fucking hell, Taylor, she threatened you. I didn’t know she’d already threw it at you. It was this or have her label sue you.” He puts his forehead to my temple and his breath caresses my jaw. “Believe me when I say, the last thing I wanted was to hurt you. I’m empty and numb. And god, I know I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I miss you.” He takes a trembling breath I feel in my bones. “Am I the reason you changed your book covers?”