Ink Slapped

by A. M. Jones

  “But you left me at my parents’ house.”

  Her arms wrap around my neck. “I told Gina I had a trainer appointment.” Cocking her head to the side, she scans my face—probably searching for any signs of what I remember.

  “But you were upset last night. I distinctly remember you telling me how much you hated me.”

  Her face scrunches. “I was drunk.” She looks at the floor, wiping across her forehead. “You told me you didn’t want to record another song and I let my emotions get the better of me.” When she meets my gaze again, she says, “I’m sorry.”

  I can only nod as I don’t remember telling her this but it makes sense. It had been on my mind. “I’m sorry, too.”

  Her chin trembles and she looks away. “It’s just—” She scoffs and licks her lips. “We’re getting older, you know? I’ve been thinking about setting a foundation. Plant roots.” Somehow, I know what she will say before she says it. “I think I’m ready to start a family.” I’m stunned speechless. And as the silence grows heavy, her face falls. With a look, she skirts by me. “I knew it. I knew you’d undermine my feelings.”

  “Wait a minute. What?” I grab her wrist but she doesn’t look at me. “We had a huge and a rather unhealthy night last night and you’re saying you want to bring a child into it. Excuse me for taking a minute to pick the pieces of my mind off the floor.”

  She jerks from my grasp. “More like they’re stuck up your ass, Eli. You act as though this is the first time I’ve mentioned it.”

  “It is.” Isn’t it?

  She stomps up the stairs, glaring at me the whole way. The bedroom door slams and the music rises in volume. What in the hell just happened?

  Am I going crazy? I could think logically about the whole thing. I could try to think of a conclusion to make myself feel better, but at this point, it’s impossible. She’s right. My head is in my ass. Especially since I don’t remember having the “family” conversation since before she went solo. No matter how much therapy we attend, nothing will get better if we don’t put what we learn into practice.

  I can’t help but think what kind of situation would we be bringing a baby into? Does she think having children will magically fix us? Or is this her way of gaining control over a situation she can’t control? There’s only one way to find out.

  I walk into my studio to the smell of greasy pizza. My stomach rumbles, but my appetite dissolves.

  “Man, what’s wrong with you?” Jack asks, shoving half a slice into his mouth. “You look pale as fuck.”

  Plopping on the couch, I put my feet on the beer-can-littered coffee table. I shake my head. “I think we should do the new song during the show.”

  This stops Milo and Crockett’s conversation. Kevin only raises his eyebrows but continues playing the board at a low volume.

  Jack throws his pizza crust on a paper plate. “You know it’s supposed to be Highway, right? I mean that’s the whole reason we were invited.”

  I laugh. “No, it wasn’t. We were invited because we’re an up-and-coming indie band to play at an indie award show. It’s our choice. Madison’s the one who went all, ‘Let’s do Highway.’ We have to let them know.”

  Milo shakes his head. “Whatever went down between you and Madison, it’s not something to take public. Especially with that song. A song we haven’t even uploaded, no less. Risky. And what would Dash Top say?”

  “It’s not their fucking choice. We were invited. Not the label. Not Madison. And really, she needs us more than we need her as I’ve been saying all along,” I seethe. “It’s killing me I’m stuck with—”

  They all look at me, but I catch sight of a large thin parcel leaning against the wall. After tearing down the packaging, we all stare at it, shocked. Kevin speaks first, “Damn. Who is that?”

  I clear my throat. “Taylor.”

  “You know her?” His tone is eager, but I nod as he turns back to the photograph—the same photograph that had been hanging in Marcus Demont’s office. “When can I meet her?”

  I glare at him as I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Marcus. “Eli,” he answers right away. “I was wondering when I’d be hearing from you.”

  “What’s with the photograph?”

  He laughs. “You don’t like it?” I’m not sure I want or need to answer that, but he continues before I do. “It’s a gift to celebrate your fifty-thousandth download.”

  “Wait. What?” I need to get on our accounts and check them. Everything seems to be at full speed.

  “You’re not keeping track of it? And I’m kind of shocked you’re surprised. I mean, you’re invited to a festival. That should’ve told you this was coming. Between all the sites, singles, and both your albums we’ve uploaded, you have fifty-thousand downloads as of yesterday. In five months, that’s a feat, but what’s better than that is, over half have been in the past two months. It’s climbing and after the show I expect it to multiply by ten.”

  All of a sudden, I wonder about Madison’s sales. She says she’s selling better than ever, but if that’s true, then why does she want to do another single? Glancing to the guys, they watch me. Except for Kevin, whose head is cocked, staring at Taylor. Heat springs through my chest. I’d love to smack the little punk on the back of the head.

  “Anyway,” Marcus goes on. “As I’ve said before, you need to think about making Tainted District its own brand and if you aren’t keeping track of sales, you need to think about hiring a manager. That way you can focus on making videos, go around the southeast to play shows. Make more music. Without Madison. It’s time to think strategy here.”

  He’s right. I have trouble managing the shop. “Good idea.”

  “In the meantime, you should celebrate and fly little caterpillars, fly.”

  When we click off, I stare out the window in a daze. “We hit fifty-thousand downloads. In five months.”

  After that, my morning with Madison is forgotten.

  When I open my eyes the next day, Madison is sitting against the headboard, staring into space. Which is odd. She’s usually ready for the day. Sometimes already gone. I blink at what she has in her hands. Taylor’s book, Turmoil.

  “Oh, good. You’re awake,” she says.

  “And you’re still in bed.”

  “Reading. Yes.” She closes the book, holding her thumb between the pages. “I’m not going to compete.”

  I throw the quilt back and stand, rubbing my eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  She wags the book. “What’s it going to take to move on from this?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean. Taylor and I are friends.”

  She doesn’t say anything as she follows me into the bathroom. “And if I asked you not to be?”

  I shoot her a look because that’s not happening. “I don’t know. Maybe impossible since she’s friends with the whole band. And my parents.”

  “We were doing great, Eli. With therapy, with us… until you saw her again. I dropped the suit.” Her jaw clenches as her composure slips.

  My neck heats. “You blackmailed me to get what you wanted. A single with Tainted District, right? Gee. I wonder why it’s not working out as you imagined?”

  “A single that’s helping you!” Her neck tendons pop when she huffs and looks away. “What if I can get her an agent?”

  I freeze. An agent? I can’t help but think of the first time I talked to Taylor. “And maybe one day I’ll write something I feel good enough about to snag me an agent.” An agent is definitely a goal for Taylor.

  “What are you getting at?”

  Madison smiles. “I’m saying, I can help get Taylor an agent. I’ve done a little digging. With the right one, Taylor could be published with a big house. Her books could be placed on a lot of shelves.”

  “In exchange for our friendship you mean.”

  She shrugs. “Maybe you just need to get her out of your system.”

  “Will you bend down like you’re smelling it?”

  The lit
tle girl smiles big and plants her face right into the cluster of buttercups. The early spring sun beats down, making the yellow flowers extra bright. Her mother laughs. I mean, it is kind of cute but after the fifth try, it’s frustrating not to get the shot I need or the shot the mother wants.

  “Here. Let me arrange her.” The mother steps through the field of buttercups. We spend the next ten minutes trying to get a good photo of her kid sniffing a flower.

  Maybe one day I won’t have to do this anymore. They both smile when I show them the photographs, satisfied. “You did great, Ashley.” I return their smile. “I should have these edited by Saturday.”

  “Oh great! They’ll look amazing as an Easter card,” the mom gushes.

  I follow them from the park to the parking lot and say our goodbyes. Ashley keeps yelling bye and waving her arm with fervid abandon until she’s out of sight.

  The smile on my face can’t be helped. I open my back door to toss in my camera bag when I spot a familiar form, running on the trail toward me. Like a train wreck, I can’t look away when she meets my gaze. I know the exact moment when recognition hits her. Her steps slow and her lips pinch ever so slightly.

  “Taylor?” Madison Hart-Gregor’s hair is in a ponytail and she’s glistening, barely huffing. She’s even attractive when she sweats. And who is she trying to kid with her fashionable “hip” bag? It’s a glorified fanny pack, but even I can admit it’s practical.

  “Um, hi.”

  “Wow.” Her laugh draws attention of male runners, racing by. “I’m glad to run into you.”

  “I can’t imagine why.” This woman doesn’t deserve my kindness. There are other things, a person to be exact, I don’t think she deserves but I have no say in that.

  She shrugs. “To apologize, I guess. And—” She bites her lip. “I read Turmoil.”

  “Oh.” Awesome. Just great. I can only imagine what she thinks.

  “You should see a therapist.”

  “Wow. What an apology. Consider yourself forgiven.”

  She laughs. “I’m kidding. It was good. And I mean it about the apology. Eli can make me feel like the most insecure person in the world. But things are great now. We’re getting ready to record a new song. I’m working on myself.” She waves to her fit body. “We’re working on us.”

  Oh, so this is a rub salt in the wound session. Got it. “That’s good.”

  “I was never going to sue you. I feel awful about everything. I’m not that kind of person.”

  I open my car door with a tight smile. “Forget about it.”

  She nods, like she wants to say more, so I wait. “Eli’s never going to want to stop being friends with you, is he?”

  Unsure of how to answer that, I stare at her. “That’s all we are.”

  “If you off yourself, will that be a clue to the lie you just told me?”

  My body jolts at the shock of her words. The hatred she holds just for me flashes in her eyes. She wants to shake me. Without responding, I hop in my car and slam my door. With that, she steps onto the trail and takes off at a sprint.

  Gavin laughs against my stomach. “You sure?”

  I take the lollipop out of my mouth. “I’m sure… I need to think about what I want next.” Sucking the lollipop in, I watch him kiss my midriff, inching my tank up. The sides of his head are freshly shaved, but for some reason he doesn’t spike his Mohawk, just keeps it shaggy, and it touches my stomach with each kiss. I’m sprawled on the couch with him between my legs, and I’m the only one in little clothing. His thumb teases the edge of my panties.

  “I want to expand this tree.” He traces the dormant tree on my upper thigh and hip. “I could wrap it around a little here.” His finger tickles the exact spot on my inner thigh, sparking desire.

  “Mmmm… Maybe.”

  “Maybe, hell.” He bites my hip, making me laugh aloud as I jerk from it. “You’re my favorite canvas by far, so it’d make my life if you’d let me go in a fantastic place.”

  “If you use your tongue, you can go anywhere you want,” I say around the sucker, but I doubt it sounds as sexy as I’d like.

  He meets my gaze with his own light skies surrounded by dark lashes, groaning. “Deal,” he says, removing my candy and sucking on my bottom lip.

  Things are great now. We’re working on us.

  “Let’s do another shot,” I say between our tongues melding.

  Another groan. “I can’t. Gotta client in two hours. One was the limit, remember?”

  I push him backward and he falls on his ass, but I’m right behind, straddling his legs and popping the button on his jeans. “Well then, I guess we better make the most of it.”

  A few hours later, I’m sprawled on the couch again, feeling somewhat mollified, eating lollipops, and watching the sky darken. Gavin just left, so I’m even more depressed and just drop alcohol all together. Even though I should just get drunk because thinking about anything at the moment is a pain. In the heart. It hurts to hear Eli spewing from my speakers—a song about taking a good look at yourself in the mirror to see who you really are. I envy how easy it is for him to expose his emotions. He will get big, not because of Madison, but because of him and the band. Madison leaving might’ve been the best thing for them. The music they make now can in no way be compared to Highway. In fact, if not for Eli’s voice, I’d have no idea it’s Tainted District.

  Which is why I don’t understand why they agreed to do another song. I suppose things are going great for them. I don’t like how I feel. I’m still in too deep, but now I’m so deep, I can’t stop digging the hole. I’ve allowed myself to hope, that time will pass, and things could turn out differently. I sigh.

  They don’t need Madison.

  Even a few of my own readers have connected the dots and have made comments about Tainted District and their music.

  A knock sounds and I yell for Gavin to come in, thinking he forgot something. When the door opens, Eli stands there with wide eyes. I sit, knowing I look like the hussy I am in my panties and tank.

  A big grin spreads across his features. “I hope you wouldn’t just invite anyone in looking like that.”

  “No, Gavin was just here. I thought he forgot something.”

  His face falls as his gaze switches to my blue tooth speaker, playing Tainted District. Then he scans my body, starting with my hair and stopping at the tattoo on my thigh. “I’ll, uh, just go in the kitchen.”

  He runs both hands through his hair as he leaves. I dash into my room, cursing when I stub my toe on a boot. After dressing and making sure my teeth aren’t a weird color from lollipops, I catch him looking at my art. This is the first time he’s been here in a while. My chest warms, watching him eye everything with keen interest.

  “How was your party?”

  “Fine.” He moves to my couch and sits with a stiff posture. I can’t help but wonder if he’s here to tell me about the single. I meet his gaze and it’s so beyond hurt like he’s living in his very own hell. I swallow and look away.

  “I want to ask you something.” I should ask him about Madison. Right now. After a quick minute, I decide to wait and think it through.

  “Shoot.”

  “I have the cover done. Do you want to see it?”

  A slight smile touches his lips as he nods. He usually perks up when I give him peeks of my artwork.

  Releasing a breath, I raise my glasses to rub my eyes. “Are you okay? You seem…down.”

  “Am I that transparent?” He laughs, shaking his head.

  “A little, yeah.”

  “Sorry, I don’t mean to be. You’re free to do what you want.” Oh. He’s talking about Gavin. I want to say something to make him feel better but he goes on, “I came here to tell you something. Something good. Amazing. It’s kind of surreal.” Searching my face, he continues, “You don’t know?”

  This obviously has nothing to do with running into Madison. “I don’t have a clue.” I situate myself better on the couch. He relaxes, sittin
g back.

  “We hit a milestone yesterday. Fifty thousand downloads.” He grins so big my heart hurts.

  I return his grin. So this is why they agreed on another single. The duet with Madison helped them. To cover any thoughts from showing on my face, I throw my arms around his neck in a side hug. “Congrats.” I notice a chain on his neck and my heart pounds.

  I squeeze him one good time before I let go and spy the outline of the guitar pick. He opens his mouth, but I cut him off. “We should celebrate. Call the guys and give me a few minutes to get ready.”

  “Actually, I’d rather just stay here. Plus, I have big plans for downtown Atlanta on Saturday night.”

  “Like what?”

  Another grin. “I guess you’ll have to wait and find out, won’t you?”

  “Okay… we can stay in.” I pick a piece of thread from the couch. “About Gavin, he helps me forget.”

  “Does it work?” he asks. At that, I feel blood drain from my face. “It’s okay. Everyone needs intimacy, Taylor.” He grins as his gaze lands on my speaker—now on a song about being driven to insanity. “I know what you need.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yep.”

  I laugh. “Are you going to tell me?”

  “Nope. I’m going to show you.” He stands, pulling me to the kitchen and opens my cabinets.

  “What are you doing?”

  “What’s it look like?” He shakes a can of powdered cocoa and preheats the oven. “I’m baking.”

  I laugh and help by locating a mixing bowl and measuring cups. “What do you want to make?” I ask, displaying my phone on the counter to Google a recipe.

  “Psssh. I don’t need a stinking recipe. I’ll just eyeball it.” He spots an apron I never use hanging on a hook, puts it on, and opens the refrigerator for more ingredients.

  I laugh at his pink and cherry print ruffles. “Eyeball it?”

  “Yeah. For brownies.” He cracks eggs into the bowl and shakes flour and cocoa in, stirring it. “I watched my mom do it enough to practice on my own. You’ll love them, I swear.”