Ink Slapped

by A. M. Jones

  Grinning, he pats the space beside him. “My mom likes you. Hard not to though.”

  When I sit, I grab the sandwich and we both eat a few bites before we make conversation. I love how I can just be at ease and comfortable with him. He tells me about Tainted District’s newest member, Kevin, a keyboard player.

  “You’d like him, I think. He’s reserved. Keeps to himself, but we’re slowly bringing him out of his shell.”

  I laugh. “You guys are good at that. I wonder what he thinks of Crockett.”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. I think he was surprised by his sexuality… when he found out, that is.”

  “He couldn’t tell?”

  “Crockett was open with you. He hides it sometimes, and he’s good at doing so.” He laughs. “I never know if someone knows or not.” Now that he says it, I guess he’s right.

  I clear my throat. “So we’re doing this?” By the look on his face, we aren’t doing what he wants to be doing. “The friend thing.”

  “What’s with women and their trick questions?”

  “It’s not a trick. I have no ulterior motives.”

  He searches my face for a long time. “I want to, yes.” It seems to take everything he has to say it, but he smiles. Although, it’ll be hard, I’d rather be his friend than nothing at all.

  I nod. “Okay. I’ll send you a wedding invite.”

  The slight smile falls, and he puts his half-eaten sandwich back in the baggie. “That’s not funny. And besides, I’m sure you won’t marry Gavin.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? He’s available.”

  He flinches, making me want to take back my jesting. “Because he’s an idiot.” The sandwich baggie crinkles as he plays with it. I don’t say anything because he’s right. “I thought you let those kinds of thoughts go with Adrian.”

  Leaning back on the couch, I answer honestly, “I’m in my thirties. I’d be lying if I said I did. And besides, I mentioned it because that might happen one day, you know?”

  He rolls his eyes and ignores my last insinuation. “You’re thirty-one,” he points out, taking a huge bite of an apple.

  “It’s not a goal or anything.”

  Humor dances across his face and he smiles with a mouth full before swallowing it. “Good. But just in case, I’ll send you a cat lady start-up kit.” He ticks off his fingers. “Two kittens, catnip, and a litter box.”

  We both burst into laughter. His tone hums in my ears as our laughing calms down. “Thanks for looking out for my wellbeing.”

  “What are frie—hey, speaking of friends, they go to each other’s birthday parties.” His pointed look and statement serves to spike my anxiety.

  “I think we should move forward at a slow pace or else we’ll be right back where we were.”

  “I have big news for you, Taylor. Well, you probably don’t want to hear it, so I’ll change the subject. Do you have another pair of glasses with you?”

  What an odd thing to ask. I guess he sees my confusion because he grins. “Yeah, I always keep a spare in my car,” I say.

  “Good, I’m borrowing these.” He takes my nerd specs from my face and he becomes a blur.

  “Why?” I squint as he puts them on.

  “Wow. You’re blind. I'll wear them for luck, but if it’s all right with you I’m gonna pop out the lenses.”

  I wish I could see him better. His head moves as if he’s looking around. “Sure.”

  Pulling out my phone to check the time, I realize it’s dead. I stand, “I should get going.” And buy another bag of Blow Pops while I’m out. Oh, what the hell, I’ll grab two bags.

  He slips the glasses off, stands, and encircles me with his arm. “I’ll walk you out.”

  The whole way home I can’t help but think of his big news comment. I shouldn’t have let it go, I should ask him. Searching for my phone, I realize it’s missing. It’s not like I can locate it by the ring. After another thorough search of my car, I climb in to go get it at Eli’s shop.

  When I get there, Eli’s truck is still the only vehicle parked to the side. I make my way through the shop, which is still empty. He hasn’t gone back to work. The office door is closed but not clicked shut, and when I reach it, I freeze from the sound that comes from inside. I slap my hand over my mouth as desire shoots through my body, warming my face.

  I should leave, but what the fuck, why not? I nudge the door and it cracks open. It’s not what he’s doing that gets to me. It’s that it’s him, lying on the couch with his hair sprawled across the back. His breathing is deep and seductive as his stomach rolls with the movement of his hand. With his closed eyes and an open mouth, I think this is the best I’ve ever seen him and it has nothing to do with him being naked or how his body has a thin sheen on it. His unoccupied hand strokes his thigh, following the hair on his stomach and chest. How many times have I imagined him like this? In his loss of facial expression and control? Not to mention the circumstances. I was just here with him. His timing gives me a good idea of what’s on his mind.

  When his movements slow and breathing becomes faster, he groans and spurts onto his skin. The visual scene causes a need that hums between my legs and my stomach clenches in response. Fucking morals. This is the most erotic thing I’ve ever witnessed that I’m not part of, and hell, do I wish I were a part of it.

  He stares at the ceiling as his breathing returns to normal in his afterglow. A pained look crosses his face and he rubs his hand—the one he wasn’t using—over his face before dragging it through his hair. When he sits, I back away and leave. My imagination is awesome, but it doesn’t do Eli justice.

  I only get so far outside when I see Crockett. I hurry forward, shaking my head and watching the grease-stained gravel crunch under my boots.

  “Taylor?”

  “I gotta go, Crockett. Call me later.”

  “Why are you all red-faced?” His expression turns into utter delight. “You naughty girl!”

  “Shh!” But my pleading isn’t heard. We both turn as the shop door opens behind us. Eli steps out—unfortunately, but fortunately at the same time—clothed and his hair is out of his face. He goes rigid when he sees me. I’m sure my face couldn’t get any redder.

  “Naughty. Both of you! Sneaks. Getting birthday nookie? How long has this been going on?” Crockett waves his finger between us. “I have writing to do,” he mocks me in a high-pitched voice.

  “It’s not what you think.” I wish I’d drop dead right here. “I left my phone.” I explain to Eli and when I look at him, he’s grinning from ear to ear. The heat coming from his hooded gaze sears me to the spot.

  “You don’t say? It probably got shoved into the cushions of the couch.” The implications don’t go unnoticed. Fresh heat pumps through my cheeks with a vengeance. I’m busted.

  Crockett gasps. “You cheeky fuckers. I knew it.”

  I should be humiliated, but strangely, I’m not. By the look of Taylor’s mortification, I bet she enjoyed it. My only regret is not catching her myself. I’ll do it again if it gets her blood pumping like it is right now. She’s so red, it shows through her blond hair from her scalp.

  I ignore Crockett. “Want to go look for it in the couch?”

  “I—uh…” She squares her shoulders and pushes past me, her ass swaying in determination. Crockett eyes me with suspicion.

  “She caught me jerking off. I had no idea she was here. Well, she was here earlier…”

  His laugh echoes through the shop yard. “Oh. I’m never letting her live this one down,” he says through his cackles.

  When she makes her reappearance, Crockett has a renewed bout of laughter. She glares at me, but there’s amusement in her eyes. “I hate you both.”

  She cracks a smile as she walks past us. I grin. “You can come anytime,” I tell her.

  She bites her lip when she looks back over her shoulder. “I will.” Her eyebrows waggle once as she hops in her car. For the rest of the afternoon, my mind never strays from wondering if Taylor
is masturbating to her memory of me masturbating. It’s not until I’m showering for the party that I realize she did it on purpose. We’re already toeing the “friends” line. I wonder how we’re going to keep the line from getting blurry and wiped away completely. Cheeky fuckers indeed.

  “Ready for your present?”

  My fingers stop strumming my Martin. Madison is excited, so I raise my eyebrows. “Sure.” I pluck the melody one more time and decide I like it.

  She smiles, opening her leather backpack, and produces a notepad. She turns to a certain page and hands it over.

  I scan the words of a song and smile when I figure she wrote it, but my stomach drops when I realize it’s another duet. I hope my apprehension doesn’t show on my face.

  She bounces on the bed next to me. “I figured you can get the music to it and incorporate Kevin and his awesome keyboard. And… We’ll record it with the label.” Her smile is bright as she claps. “They’ve approved it already, since Highway is doing fantastic and my record sales are better than ever.”

  “Wow. I don’t know what to say.” Especially since this isn’t a present for me.

  She stares, crossing her arms. “What’s been wrong with you? It’s because you saw her, isn’t it?”

  My phone chimes, saving me from having to reply.

  She flips her hair over her shoulder. “Milo and Jack must be on their way for dinner.”

  Dinner. Right. And she’s correct. “They are.”

  I feel her waiting on me to say something. She stalks into the bathroom to finish preparing herself. “Speaking of dinners, did you go to the last fitting for your suit?”

  “Uh, no. They called a few days ago. I should call them back.” After all, I invested in something tailored. I wouldn’t have without someone badgering me to get one.

  “What? The Indie Rock Fest Awards are next weekend.”

  My phone clobbers across the floor. “Next weekend?”

  “Yes, silly. Next Friday night.”

  My hand clenches in a fist so tight, my knuckles are white. You’re busy. Taylor knew and now I look like an ass for forgetting something important. “I have plans,” I blurt. I’m staring into space when she pokes her head out of the bathroom.

  “What could be more important than playing Highway, live, at an awards show?”

  I stand. “I’ll be right back. Tell the guys to wait.”

  “What? Eli,” she calls after me—her tone between a whine and a nag. I hop down the stairs and she reaches the banister above me. “I can’t believe this!”

  But I make it outside and breath in the fresh air.

  Halfway to my destination, I realize how this will look in Taylor’s eyes, but I’m way past caring at this point. Or maybe not. I drum the steering wheel with my thumbs. The last thing I want to do is make myself seem in need of a padded room. Dialing my phone, I slow and pull into a gas station.

  She answers before it rings a second time. “Shouldn’t you be at your party?”

  “I don’t know.” There’s a distinct line on where I should be and where I want to be.

  A long moment of silence ensues before she laughs and gives a small cough. “You should go to your party, Eli.”

  “I realized I have plans for next weekend.”

  She sighs. “I was wondering when you’d remember.”

  “Your signing is not until Saturday, right?”

  “No—”

  “Then I’ll be there.”

  Another long pause. “Playing at an awards show is a huge deal, you know? I mean, you haven’t once said anything to me about it. You don’t have to skirt around your successes. I’m happy for you. After everything that happened over my stupidity—” She stops and I swallow.

  “Why are you blaming yourself?”

  “If you can’t make it to the convention, I understand,” she goes on with emphasis. “I’ve been waiting for you to back out, anyway.”

  My chest feels tight as I watch people walk in and out of the convenience store. Taylor’s the last person I want to let down. I put my forehead against the wheel. “I’ll just fly into Atlanta instead of coming back to Nashville.” I’ll have to book my flight since the other one is already paid for, although I’m sure it’ll be an outrageous expense.

  “Go to your party. I’ll call you tomorrow night to work out the details better.”

  “All right.”

  “Happy birthday.”

  I squeeze my eyes closed and wish I’d gone over there instead of calling. I know one thing’s for sure, I have it bad and right now, it sucks.

  “I needed a breather. She wrote a song and wants us to write the music for it. She’s already got the backing to record it.”

  Crockett’s face turns to steel, shaking his head. We watch people wander the kitchen but aren’t paying attention to what anyone is saying. Probably the scotch. Spent helium balloons drift a few inches from the floor.

  He refills our glasses. “Shouldn’t have done Highway.” I focus on him. “Think about it… where are Tainted District’s sales coming from? Not the single. Yeah, we’ve had good promo opportunities, but—” He points to Madison, who’s in a drunken conversation with a friend of hers. “She needs us more than we need her. And with that contract, we’re stuck. At least until we pay back what they’ve put into it.”

  I shrug, not having an argument because I knew it would turn out like this. Most days, I feel like I’m floating outside my body, trying to pull the strings, but it’s on autopilot.

  “Don’t forget why we agreed to do Highway,” I slur.

  My stomach turns and I push the glass away. Boisterous laughter comes from the living room, and I glimpse Jack doing The Gator, Animal House style. Milo chants, “Toga, toga, toga—” Everyone soon joins in. When I stand, my knees don’t cooperate and I fall against the dining table.

  An arm wraps around mine. My mother’s worried eyes meet my gaze. “Your room’s ready. Come on, I’ll help you there.”

  I nod as a fleeting thought crosses my drunken mind, but it’s already lost.

  A wrapped box in black paper with a silver bow on the bedside table catches my eye as soon as I open them. I turn over and realize I’m alone. My mouth is dry and when I move, my body feels like a Mack truck hit it. Grasping the box, I shake it. It looks like a ring box. I take it with me to the bathroom and set it on the counter. During a shower, I get flashes of Madison and me in bed last night.

  My stomach turns and I dry heave, bracing myself on my arms as hot water cascades down my body. When I get out, I dry my hair as much as I can with a towel and never take my eyes from the box.

  After I’m dressed and ready to go downstairs, I open it. Cushioned inside is a silver guitar pick. Taking it out, I realize it’s meant to wear on a chain. It’s not like I can play an axe with it. I run my fingertip over the engraved letters, TD. It warms to my skin when I enclose it in my fist. I love the way the letters can stand for more than one thing. Clever vixen. Even though this is a subtle way to remind me of why we aren’t together, I doubt it’ll ever get cold again—not until I’m dead and buried with it.

  During breakfast, my phone rings. It’s Mick. “Hey man. Some delivery’s here for you. Want me to sign?”

  Mick rents my loft apartment for cheap, and in exchange, we still do our band practices there. “Yeah, we’ll be there at one. I’ll get it then.”

  “It’s fuckin’ huge.”

  “See you at one.”

  I click off as my mom sets a fresh pot of coffee on the table. Dad, looking rough, reaches for it and pours a generous portion for himself. When he dumps sugar in it, I get a flash of Taylor doing the same in the same chair he occupies.

  Rubbing my face with my hands, I groan. Crockett shoots me a knowing grin. “No worries, cupcake. I’ll take you back.”

  “She left me here. Maybe she doesn’t want me to go back,” I point out, hoping they’ll agree with my logic. “You’re sure she didn’t say why she was mad?”

  My m
om sighs and shakes her head. “Just that she had a trainer coming. You don’t remember anything you could have done or said?”

  It doesn’t bode well that my brain was on Taylor yesterday and I don’t remember shit from last night except for taking Madison in every possible way. The image of her ass in the air through the curtain of my hair flares through my mind. Our bodies smacking against each other pounds in tune with my throbbing headache. I gag with another dry heave as eggs and coffee battle in my stomach. More scenes burst through, of her crying, complete with puffy eyes and snot. “I fucking hate you.” Hiccup. Snot. Sob. “You don’t deserve me or anything I’ve given you.” Snot. Sob. Hiccup. “You resent me for signing with the label.” Sob. Hiccup. Snot.

  I swallow hard. I should’ve seen this coming. “Yes, she was upset.”

  Crockett drops me at Madison’s house. I think of it as hers because it does not feel like ours and I doubt it ever will. I stand outside the garage door, not knowing what I’ll be walking into, because I’m not sure what she was sobbing about last night. Checking my phone, I’ll only have to deal with it for an hour.

  After a few minutes of mentally preparing myself, I enter through the kitchen door. The marble counters, stainless steel appliances, and wood floors gleam mockingly. The house is all open space and I can look to the second floor from the family room.

  “Madison? You here?” I call. She’s here, since her own album is blaring through the house—one thing I don’t have in common with her. I can’t listen to my recorded self sing repeatedly. I hear myself enough and can’t help my own criticism. Madison, on the other hand, thinks she’s perfect every time.

  I narrow my gaze due to the smile that greets me over the banister as she struts out of the bedroom, fresh from a shower. Warily, I watch her skip down the carpeted spiral staircase in the foyer. “You all right?” I ask.

  She laughs and flips her wet hair behind her. Her face is makeup free and glows as if she didn’t stay awake drinking half the night. “I was just wondering when you’d walk in.”