Irresistible Ink

by Ranae Rose

  It took James a few seconds to get past his disbelief. “You sure about that? You’ve already helped out a lot. I know it’s more than I have any right to ask.”

  “Just give me a call tomorrow before you go in to work. I’ll give you directions to my place and you can drop her off. I’ll be there.”

  “You need a ride back to Hot Ink, right?”

  Arianna shook her head. “I called a cab while you were bringing stuff in from your car. You’ve got your hands full here – don’t worry about me.”

  She walked out, leaving James alone with a baby in his arms for the first time in his life.

  * * * * *

  Arianna breathed a sigh as she closed the door behind herself, sealing out the world in favor of the solitude of her apartment. Safely inside, she simply breathed. Her head spun with thoughts of James and the smell of baby lotion. What had she gotten herself into, exactly?

  She’d promised herself she’d step out of her shell. Well, she’d definitely done that … in a way. When she’d imagined how she’d do that, though, she hadn’t been thinking of anything like what she’d just offered to do. Not even close. She’d been thinking more along the lines of getting out more – trying new things, meeting new people. Spending less time slaving away in front of her computer screen and more time being part of the world. James’ invitation had seemed perfect.

  Heat still smoldered deep in her core, embers of desire that warmed her from the inside out instead of dying. There was no question about it – she missed what she and James had come so close to doing. Missed it, but the pain of unfulfilled desire was overshadowed by another ache – one that radiated from the very center of her chest and into every fiber of her being.

  No problem – she’d told James it was no problem for her to help him care for his niece.

  She’d lied.

  Deep down, she knew it was a problem. Then again, maybe that was exactly why helping him out with his niece was the perfect way to meet the challenge she’d set for herself. Taking care of the baby while he was at work would be tough, in some ways – after today, she had no doubts about that. But if doing something that set her that far outside of her comfort zone wasn’t stepping out of her shell, what was?

  The thought leant her a little confidence, even if the idea of babysitting the next day was still daunting. Really, she hadn’t offered for her own benefit – she never would’ve worked up the courage to do that. No, seeing James hold his niece in his arms was what had prompted her to volunteer.

  Bringing a date to a screeching halt to rescue a baby left on his doorstep, rushing to the store and bringing back a cartload of expensive supplies, planning to care for a child that wasn’t even his … how many guys would do that?

  He hadn’t even considered calling the authorities and surrendering his niece to the state. In fact, he’d seemed pissed when she’d mentioned the possibility. He’d shocked her with his reaction, and now that shock remained, manifested in the form of an attraction even deeper than what she’d felt before.

  Too bad that attraction was layered with guilt now, laced with the knowledge that he was a better person than her.

  That was what it came down to, wasn’t it? Before they’d discovered the surprise on his doorstep, they’d been equals – two people united by a mutual attraction, with no real plans beyond that night. The responsibility he’d been burdened with and the ease with which he’d accepted it had changed all that. There was no question: he was exceptional.

  Of course, she’d known from the beginning that he was exceptionally hot, but the evening had added a whole new dimension to her perception of him – one that left her achingly aware of her own shortcomings.

  * * * * *

  11 Years Ago

  The girls’ bathroom next to the chemistry classroom was as cold as a meat locker, but sweat beaded on Arianna’s forehead anyway as she slipped a hand into her purse, extracting the item she’d hidden at the very bottom of a secret pocket in the lining, beneath a stash of tampons and panty liners. She knew no one could see her inside the locked stall, but she looked around anyway, her gaze sweeping over the graffiti scribbled on the divider walls. She couldn’t make out any of the words, couldn’t concentrate on anything except the nearly imperceptible weight in her hand.

  It’d taken all her courage to walk into a random dollar store, select the item and pay for it with a crumpled five dollar bill. She’d had to force herself to walk rather than run out of the store, deathly afraid of glimpsing a familiar face. Now, she was finally alone, hidden from view. Slowly, she unwrapped the plastic stick.

  She had to force herself to concentrate long and hard enough to read the instructions that’d come with it. It took her several minutes, but the gist was simple: pee on the stick.

  Actually doing it wasn’t quite so easy, thanks to shaky hands. Slowly and carefully, she lifted her uniform skirt, holding onto the pregnancy test with a one-handed death grip.

  She stared at the dark green plaid of her skirt, visually tracing the intersections and squares formed by the pattern, unable to bring herself to look at the test. The instructions had said to wait for a full minute before reading the results, and she couldn’t bear the idea of watching them form, sweating through every second. When she was done, she sat still on the toilet, the porcelain cold against her thighs as she kept her eyes firmly shut.

  After what seemed like an eternity but was probably more like thirty seconds, the door swung open, and the noise of breathless gossip and laughter invaded Arianna’s sanctuary. She jumped, shoes squeaking against the floor tiles, and lost her grip on the test.

  Her heart slammed painfully against her ribs during the split second it took the stick to fall, and then the plastic clattered against the tile, the sound impossibly loud. Arianna barely stifled a cry of horror as it bounced, spinning like a tiny helicopter blade, the results window a blur.

  The group of girls who’d entered the bathroom had to have heard. The noise had been so loud, practically deafening to Arianna, and everything that happened in the bathroom echoed. Through the cracks between the stall door and its frame, Arianna could see a blur of legs and bodies, tartan skirts and hair in shades of brown and gold. The girls had apparently entered to preen in front of the mirrors, though every painful beat of Arianna’s heart told her that they weren’t looking at their own reflections now.

  “Oh my God,” one of the girls said.

  Swallowing the bile that’d crept into her throat, Arianna reached down with a trembling hand and retrieved the test. Holding it tightly again, she hid the window inside her hand, not daring to look until she was alone.

  The girls lingered for what seemed like an eternity, whispering things that would stick in Arianna’s mind for the rest of her life. She wasn’t sure what would come first: the ringing of the bell signaling the start of third period, or her own inevitable sickness. She’d been feeling nauseous most mornings for the past week, and today was no exception. She hadn’t actually thrown up yet, but now it was all she could do not to puke on the floor in front of her giggling audience.

  Finally, they left. Arianna released a long breath that came out half-sob, then inhaled. For a while, she simply breathed. The bell rang, but she didn’t move. Finally, when she was sure everyone else had settled into class and wouldn’t invade the privacy she so desperately needed, she opened her hand and looked down.

  The two blue lines displayed in the test window blurred with the lines in her tartan skirt and the lines that divided the floor into thousands of tiny tiles. Arianna’s head swam, and she reached out with her free hand to brace herself against the stall wall. For the rest of third period she remained hidden in the bathroom, deeply aware of the silence she’d craved and how alone she was.

  * * * * *

  James had made it seven hours. During that time, several bottle feedings, intermittent crying fits and half a dozen diaper changes had worn down his will. He’d definitely embarked on a crash course on infant care, whether he
liked it or not. Now, with his niece finally asleep in her bassinette – which had taken him nearly half an hour to set up – he wandered out to the kitchen, where he could move around without fear of waking her.

  Slowly, he slipped a hand into his pocket. The corner of the envelope he’d stashed there earlier that day brushed his fingertips. He pulled it out and shoved a finger under the flap, tearing it open before he could second-guess himself.

  The contents that spilled out weren’t what he’d expected. Instead of his sister’s familiar scrawl, black type spanned the papers that skittered onto the counter. As he scanned the official-looking documents, a sinking feeling of disappointment filled him, followed by renewed anger.

  The first paper was a proof of birth letter from a hospital in Philadelphia. It identified Crystal Layton as the mother – no surprise there – and listed no information on the father. That wasn’t much of a surprise either, knowing Crystal. Apparently, the baby was called Emily Sophia Layton.

  He glanced toward his bedroom, where he’d left his niece sleeping in the bassinette. Emily. According to the hospital letter, she’d been born almost exactly a month ago, in April.

  The next several papers were stapled together and had come from the hospital, too. Discharge papers, it looked like. They included information on Emily – her birth weight and blood type, stuff like that – and basic care instructions for a newborn.

  Basically, the envelope was full of things no mother should ever give up. Of course, the same went for the baby, so why he was surprised, he couldn’t say. Maybe it was more the fact that Crystal hadn’t included a letter of her own that had caught him off guard. That was what he’d been expecting when he’d opened the envelope.

  The fact that she hadn’t bothered to write him so much as a note grated. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he flipped through the papers again. Moments later, he threw them down on the counter. He’d need them later, no doubt.

  He was midway through an elaborate string of obscenities when something on the floor caught his eye – a scrap of paper.

  He knelt, snatching it up. Did the torn notebook page include an excuse from Crystal? However flimsy, he wanted to read it – wanted to know how she’d tried to justify what she’d done, how she slept at night.

  Sure enough, her penmanship greeted him as he unfolded the scrap of paper.

  James, it read, I need you to take care of Emily for a while. There’s no one else I can turn to – you know that better than anyone. And it’s because of that that I know you won’t say no. Please, make sure she doesn’t follow in our footsteps. Sorry, Crystal

  The note was better than nothing at all, but it was still so short that he read and reread it, as if more words might magically appear on the page. He’d expected excuses – flimsy attempts at justification that he could rage over, throw in her face if and when he ever saw her again. So why hadn’t she written anything like that?

  Did she realize how wrong what she’d done was? And if she did … why had she done it?

  His jaw ached from being clenched so tightly. Laying down the note, he retreated to his bedroom.

  Emily was still asleep, one little fist balled above the edge of the receiving blanket he’d wrapped her in.

  He kicked off his jeans and sank down onto his bed, desperate for the oblivion sleep would provide, even if it wouldn’t last long.

  * * * * *

  21 Years Ago

  “I’m cold.” Crystal looked up at James. Her green eyes were huge and unusually shiny. He knew that look: she’d cry if he didn’t do something.

  “Here.” He pulled his sweatshirt over his head and handed it to her.

  She stood, carefully shrugged out of her My Little Pony backpack and set it down on the stoop. After she’d wriggled her way into his sweatshirt, she put the backpack back on. She was only five, and his sweatshirt, which was a little too big for him, was huge on her. It hung, tent-like on her tiny frame, and the sleeves flapped, hiding her hands.

  Sitting there on bare concrete as daylight began to fade, the October chill went right through James’ t-shirt, like he wasn’t wearing anything at all. He could feel it getting colder by the second, just like he could see it getting darker.

  “I’m hungry,” Crystal said.

  “I know.” He knew, and there was nothing he could do about it. Lunch at school seemed a million years ago, and his stomach was so empty it hurt. There might be food inside, or there might not – the only way to tell would be to get inside the house, and they were locked out. He’d spent five minutes knocking and yelling after the school bus had dropped them off, but no one had answered.

  “It’s getting dark,” Crystal said. “Mom said not to be out here after dark. She said that’s when the bad people come out.”

  “Mom’s not here,” James said. He wasn’t sure how long he and Crystal had been sitting on the doorstep, but it seemed like hours. No matter how long he sat in the same place, the concrete felt cold as ice beneath him. “There’s no way to get inside.”

  “She’s supposed to be here,” Crystal said, dragging her shoes against the concrete step so that they made a scraping sound.

  “Let’s play a game,” James said. “I spy… Something blue.”

  Crystal raised an arm and flapped the end of the sweatshirt sleeve in his face. “Your sweatshirt.”

  He shook his head. “Something else.”

  “Hmm…”

  Before she could guess again, a loud rumbling sound came from down the street.

  Crystal looked at James again, and her eyes got a little bigger.

  Mom said the reason dad’s car was so loud was because it had a diesel engine. James could hear it from several blocks away, and the closer it got, the louder it was.

  James looked back at Crystal and almost said ‘go inside’. He realized how dumb that would be at the last second though, and bit his tongue.

  Crystal didn’t say anything, just sat there and held on tight to her backpack straps.

  The car was definitely dad’s. It pulled into the driveway, and James could see the rusty spots above one back wheel, and the dent above the front one. Suddenly, his stomach didn’t feel empty anymore – it felt like it was tied in a million knots. He didn’t feel cold, either; all the things that’d been bothering him since he’d stepped off the school bus faded away as the car door opened. None of it mattered anymore.

  “What are you two doing out here? I’ve told you a hundred damn times if I’ve told you once not to be outside after dark. Get in the house.” Dad looked mad, but he wasn’t really yelling, so he couldn’t be that upset. Yet.

  “We’re locked out,” James said.

  Dad stopped in his tracks. “What do you mean you’re locked out? Where’s your mother?”

  “I don’t know.” James clenched his hands into fists. His fingernails dug into his palms, and he couldn’t help squeezing until it hurt.

  Dad started cussing and stopped standing still. He stumbled a little bit, but didn’t fall. When he got to the steps, he grabbed James by the arm and pulled him up, so that he wasn’t sitting anymore.

  “Where’s your damn mother?” He was yelling now. His breath smelled awful.

  James held as still as he could. If he tried to get away, that would only make his father more angry. Maybe if he didn’t freak out, he’d let him go. “I don’t know. Nobody was here when we got home from school.”

  The sound of a door slamming in its frame came from next door. James turned his head, but by the time he looked, the door was shut and no one was there.

  James’ arm started to hurt. Dad was squeezing it. It hurt worse when he shook him and leaned in even closer. His eyes looked red, angry. “I asked you where your damn mother was, boy.”

  James slipped off the edge of the step. He didn’t mean to, but he did. Dad didn’t let go, and pain tore through James’ shoulder. He hurried to stand up straight again, but dad was taller than him, and his heels didn’t quite touch the ground. The pain didn’
t go away, just got worse every second that he stood there with just his toes against the concrete.

  “Is she with Roy?” Dad shook him again. “She’s with that asshole Roy again, isn’t she? Fucking bitch! Fucking cheating, lying bitch!”

  Dad finally let go, and James fell for real this time. The edge of the step hit his back, and he forgot all about how bad his shoulder hurt. His mouth and eyes watered, and horror filled him as he realized he was about to cry, like Crystal – like a baby. He bit his tongue to hold it back.

  It didn’t work.

  Dad shoved a key into the lock and looked down at James. “Shut up, or I’ll give you a reason to cry!”

  James moved as quickly as he could, grabbing Crystal by the wrist and pulling her until they were both out of dad’s way. She dropped her backpack and started to cry too, much more loudly than James; she was too little to hold most of the sound back.

  Dad glared at them for a second, but it was mom he yelled and cussed at as he stomped into the house, even though she wasn’t there. He didn’t bother to close the door all the way behind himself, and a bar of light spilled out onto the concrete.

  The sound of breaking glass came from inside the house, and James knew it didn’t matter whether it was mom or him or Crystal who walked through that door: the results would be the same.

  He’d been waiting for so long to go in, but now he didn’t dare move. Mom’s words about the ‘bad people’ echoed inside his head, and a prickly feeling ran up and down the back of his neck. He looked over his shoulder, but there was no one on the street. He looked back at the house and couldn’t make himself go in.

  CHAPTER 4

  Given the fact that he’d texted her nearly an hour ago, Arianna should’ve been prepared to see James standing outside her apartment door.