Permanent (Indelibly Marked) (Volume 1)

by Kim Carmichael

  “What are you doing?”

  “Waiting for the ton of bricks to fall on me.”

  Ivan stood and watched the ceiling too. “Maybe with the kissing and the throwing up, she forgot to actually say it.”

  Shane shook his head. “Lindsay doesn’t forget where she put a paperclip.”

  “She was sick.”

  “No.” He let out a sad laugh. “You know you were right. Mainstream girls think we’re jokes.” He exhaled. “Or practice.”

  “Come on man, you’ve kissed plenty of girls.” Ivan slapped him on the back, his way of suggesting Shane give up.

  “If I wanted that I could have had it the first night I met her.” He dug his phone from his pocket. There had been no word from Lindsay all day.

  “I thought she lost her phone.”

  “Maybe she conveniently found it.”

  “Don’t test her.” Ivan shook his head in warning.

  “I think a test is exactly what she needs.” He called, willing the phone to go right to voice mail. If it did, he would point blank ask her when she arrived to work on the books. If she answered.

  “Hi there.” Her voice sounded shaky.

  He clenched his fist as he asked the next question, wanting to see what lie she came up with. Lindsay didn’t lose phones, what a pathetic excuse. “You found your phone?”

  Ivan walked away.

  “It was in my drawer at work.”

  “What time will you be here tonight?”

  “Normal time, unless something comes up.”

  She’d cracked a window of opportunity to not show. He knew that game. “Yeah, well accounting is unpredictable.”

  “It’s not supposed to be.”

  “Well, is there anything else?” He kicked the floor as he kicked himself for practically begging.

  “Oh yeah.”

  He straightened when her voice became animated for the first time.

  “I reconciled this month’s books.”

  She reconciled this month’s books? “That’s great.” In the background he heard a ruckus. “Lindsay?”

  “I have to go, I’ll see you later.”

  Before he said goodbye, the call ended.

  “Happy now?” Ivan returned.

  “I’m thrilled.” As the words exited his mouth a text message came through. No doubt Lindsay realized the error in her ways. “Hold on.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Time to heed my best friend’s words.” No, not Lindsay, but a sign. He typed back. “Angie needs her tattoo touched up. I think I can squeeze her in tonight and then I’ll make sure it heals quickly.” He pushed send and tossed his phone on the table. As he walked away he caught sight of the picture. “Do you want me to tattoo this on your ass?”

  Ivan shook his head, but held his hand out. “Let me have it.”

  “It’s garbage.” He crumpled it up, threw it at the wall and walked out of the shop.

  *~*~*

  Lindsay hung up the phone and stared at giraffe picture on her office wall. She loved that drawing. Shane made it just for her.

  Shane.

  “I just told him I reconciled his books.” Everything was a mess and she was the starring actress of her own play of horrors. An actress, the word described her perfectly, and she lowered her head to her desk when her stomach gurgled.

  Long before moving to California she’d planned, plotted, and mapped what she wanted, From day one, everything went awry. Especially the kiss. “Oh my God.”

  “You have a visitor.” Rick stuck his head inside her office.

  “What?” Her heart twisted. Had Shane come? Impossible.

  “A much more normal visitor than your last one.” He pretended he was pointing a gun at her.

  Disappointment settled in her chest like a stack of Shane’s paperwork. “Who is it?”

  “The black sheep.” Dillon slid past Rick into her office.

  Wrong brother. Lindsay pressed her fingers to her temple.

  “Thanks.” Dillon nodded at Rick and waited until he left. He pretended to shoot a gun at Rick.

  She forced a smile. Even as Dillon sat in front of her, her mind focused on Shane.

  “You’re probably wondering what brings me here.”

  Actually, she was questioning what she felt beneath her when she sat on Shane’s lap. Was the reaction for her or was it something that happened with any girl?

  Dillon waved his hand in front of her face.

  She blinked, attempting to focus. “Yes.”

  “I have a question for you.”

  “Okay.”

  “I have a work event tonight at a huge mansion, and the thought of going alone is horrible. Would you like to come along? You may find some potential business.”

  “You mean you need a ride.”

  “My entire office is on the way over there, I could get a ride from anyone.” He tilted his head.

  “I’m not sure.” She stared down at her desk.

  “I’ll give you a minute to think about it.” He lifted his wrist to his face and grinned.

  Lindsay weighed her options. She could go to the shop and tell Shane she wouldn’t go on a date with him, or she could join Dillon at his work event. Neither sounded good and she wanted to crawl into a cave.

  “You seem like you need some distraction.” He stood. “This will be a really classy cocktail event, exactly what someone like you needs.”

  “Someone like me?” His words caught her attention. A smile crossed his face, gorgeous but less playful and mischievous than his brother’s. Shane always smiled like he got caught doing something naughty. It would be easy to become lost in Shane’s smile and in his world, stay for as long as they allowed her.

  “You’re a young up-and-coming professional.” He stepped around her desk and took her arm.

  Yes, a young up-and-coming professional, exactly what she wanted. Dillon understood.

  “It’s time to get to know a few different crowds in Los Angeles.”

  The ledger opened. Going to the shop to talk to Shane, ending up in the red. The other, going with Dillon and getting a peek into the world she wanted, looked like a winning investment. “All right.”

  “Great.” He gave her arm a squeeze. “Can you leave now?”

  “Sure.”

  Dillon raised his eyes. “Looks like my baby brother did some decorating in here.”

  She swallowed and glanced over her shoulder at the pictures. Shane would most likely never give her another one. “Yeah.”

  “You don’t want it to look like a tattoo parlor in here with all the flair.”

  “Flash.” The word rolled right of her tongue. “It’s called flash.”

  “Whatever, it’s just garbage he got from a book.”

  “No.” She paused. “Shane doesn’t do that much flash. He does mostly custom work. Most of the guys do flash, but Shane tells customers if they are marking their body for life it should be with something unique.” She stopped, before she rattled on and on.

  “The ink over there is getting to your brain.” He put his hand on the small of her back. “Well, maybe this week we’ll go down to an art gallery and get you something more to your tastes.”

  “Shane’s pictures are my taste.”

  Dillon chuckled. “Whatever.”

  She let Shane’s brother lead her out of her office. Unlike when Shane and Ivan came to get her, the stares weren’t of shock or disbelief. Dillon netted appreciative nods. One of the other female accountants actually winked at her, confirming she’d made the correct decision. If that was the case, why did it feel like she’d betrayed Shane?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Standing in the main foyer of a multi-million dollar mansion in the heart of Beverly Hills was something everyone should do at least once. Designed to be grand, the beautiful room lived up to expectation. The light from the enormous crystal chandelier sparkled off the peach marble floors and walls, giving the space a warm glow while still maintaining its auspicious air.r />
  The event matched the house to perfection. A caterer set up a station of rare cheeses and the accouterments, and servers in white and black uniforms glided through the area carrying trays of wine filled glasses.

  “This house is up for sale.” Dillon took her forearm and guided her to the food. “Our firm has the listing and we’re holding this shindig for a select group of realtors.” He waved to someone.

  “I thought you sold commercial real estate.”

  “Right now I have to do whatever they want.” He handed her a plate. “I’m sort of stuck.”

  “I understand.” In fact, she never understood anything more.

  With Dillon there was a level of connection. She took a moment to study him, wondering if he understood her as well. He personified the type of man she pictured herself with, at least the self who arrived in California. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.” He waved down a waiter and took two glasses.

  “Do you ever feel like everything is out of balance? Like nothing you planned is working?”

  He held a glass to her. “No.”

  She didn’t want wine, but let him put the glass in her hand.

  He took a sip and gave her a wink.

  “Never?” She glanced down at the golden liquid in her glass and then back up at Dillon. “Not even when you sell something?”

  He rubbed his chin and shook his head. “Do you prefer a different wine?”

  Actually, she wanted a beer. A tall cold one, followed by another one. Not wanting him to go on about the wine she took a sip and fought grimacing when the sour liquid made its way over her tongue to join the sick sensation in her stomach.

  “I can see you have another question bubbling.” He leaned down.

  “Did you ever feel the need to reinvent yourself?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “You know, did you ever feel you needed to change?”

  “You ask interesting questions.” His facial features hardened. “I wasn’t the one that needed to be reinvented. People like you and I need to reinvent others to fit us, we’re not hicks or wannabe’s. People who change for others are losers.”

  A slap across the face would have stung less and her cheeks heated. Before she got a chance to reply, they were interrupted by a group of two men and two women.

  “Dillon Elliott, you decided to show yourself.” A blonde laced her arm in his. “Finally decided to return to the superior coast.”

  “Start spreading the news, I’m back in L.A.” He mock performed a little soft shoe and the group laughed.

  The men shook his hand and the other woman gave him a hug, then everyone’s focus turned to Lindsay.

  “You big bad jerk, did they give you an assistant to come back?” The brunette tugged his arm.

  If she thought she was regaining her composure after Dillon’s remark, she was dead wrong. How could anyone think she was an assistant? Dillon just called her an up-and-comer.

  “Come on guys.” Dillon shook his head. “This is Lindsay Stevens, she’s a corporate accountant at Sebastian and Peters.”

  The blonde put her arm around her, bumping hips playfully. “We didn’t think you were an assistant. That’s how he met his last girlfriend.”

  The group laughed, but Lindsay wanted to disappear into the marble floor.

  “Tell me about this rat trap.” Dillon interrupted the cackles.

  The conversation filled with talk of cost per square foot, mortgages and escrow. This was Lindsay’s language. Accountants and real estate merged where it counted, in the wallet, and she’d always envisioned being involved in that type of dialog.

  “Aren’t these adorable? Are they antique?” The brunette who thought Lindsay was an assistant pointed at the string of simple pearls around her neck.

  Her hand instantly went to her neck. “They’re my grandmother’s.” She put the pearls on that morning, needing a connection to home. “She gave them to me before I left to come to California.” Her necklace was a far cry from the jewelry those women draped on themselves, and completely opposite from the jewelry Shane’s crowd wore. The men around her displayed huge gilded watches and diamond cufflinks that didn’t seem nearly as stylish as Shane’s worn leather watchband and eclectic rings.

  “That is so sweet.” The other woman elbowed her. “I just buy what I want, I don’t have any hand-me-downs.”

  She wanted to say that the pearls were about the only thing she owned that wasn’t brand new, but the brunette struck again.

  “And your suit…” She looked Lindsay up and down. “How did they get this fabric to fit so well?”

  “It’s critical a suit fits well, everything I read about it told me that’s the most important thing.” She smiled, to have something to say about fashion.

  “Really?” The brunette put her hand to her chin.

  She straightened. “I have tons of articles on achieving the proper fit. You can make any inexpensive outfit look custom made if you have it tailored properly.”

  “What do you look for?” The other woman leaned in. “I want to know what to ask my tailor.”

  “You need to make sure the shoulders are straight and not tight, that nothing bulges out when you sit down. On your pants or skirt, you should be able to put one finger in the waistband.” Lindsay narrowed her eyes and thought. “It seemed like I spent hours with the tailor when I bought my suits to make sure everything was perfect, and on a couple of them he changed the buttons for me.” She took a deep breath. “I have a check list, maybe I can email it to you.”

  Both women stared at her as if they were about to crack up. “Did you get a whole new wardrobe when you came out here and plan each outfit? How precious.”

  Her throat dried and she froze. The sensation wasn’t new, and she kicked herself for not seeing it before she gave them a dissertation on proper tailoring. They weren’t really interested, how could they be? They wore suits that cost four times the price tag of the one she wore that moment. They didn’t care about changing buttons, and they certainly didn’t care that she did in fact buy a whole new wardrobe and planned every outfit.

  “Well at least you’re not wearing a pocket protector.”

  That comment resulted in another round of giggles.

  She tried to smile and not picture her father’s pocket protector. Yes, he had them and wore them. He said they protected his pockets, what more could he want?

  As the women laughed, a numbness overtook her whole body. Lindsay realized where she wasn’t welcome and certainly didn’t fit. Something in her equations went amiss. She should have seamlessly melded in, but that only happened at one place, a tattoo shop off of Hollywood Boulevard.

  What were they doing now? Deciding on dinner? Wondering where she went?

  “So, you’re the funeral director of the financial set.” One of the men finally acknowledged her.

  “What do you mean?” She glanced at Dillon, who simply stood there with a fabricated smile plastered on his face.

  “No one ever gets good news from accountants.” He laughed once and everyone else joined in.

  “It depends.” She glanced around. How did she become the butt of their jokes? “Garbage in, garbage out.”

  “I suppose if you get a good accountant you get garbage in and riches out.” The man nodded. “Is that what you’re doing for his brother?”

  “What?” The numbness turned to fire.

  “You know Shane?” The brunette charged for her. “Dillon didn’t tell us.”

  “You were too busy blabbing about girl stuff.” The man shook his head. “Dillon said his brother suckered you in to working for him. I don’t know why he needs anyone. He’s a star and his fame will protect him.”

  “Being on television does not a success make.” Dillon stepped forward. “He’s teaching an entire generation how to be delinquent with him as the king of his world.” He waved a hand as if he was reading a billboard. “Soon they’ll give him his own show. It’ll be all fanfare and
flair, all sizzle no steak.” He glared at her.

  “Flash.” She inhaled wanting to thank him for making so many things clear for her. “It would be a show with fanfare and flash, and rather than sizzle and steak, he would have sushi.”

  “Do you work for him?” The blonde asked. “Do you know Shane? Why didn’t you tell us?”

  At that moment it hit her, what her life could be if she wasn’t a coward. Instead of answering questions about knowing Shane, she could have said they were dating. She could have told them that just last night, Shane Elliott sat in her bathroom with her while she threw up. That later, he kissed her in a way that made her do insane things, like not take him up on his invitation.

  “He’s my best friend.” She averted her eyes. “We help each other out. He’s my best friend.” She cleared her throat and adjusted her purse strap. “If you would excuse me, I need to find the ladies room.”

  “Lindsay.” Dillon reached for her arm.

  “I’ll be right back.” She smiled and stepped away from the group. She pushed back against a door, and closed her eyes when she entered an unlit room. How come everything she wanted became crystal clear in the dark?

  *~*~*

  “You’re quiet tonight.” Angie laid back and showed Shane where she wanted her tattoo fixed.

  “You don’t like the strong, silent type?” He tried a smile, but he couldn’t get it up, literally. There he was, staring right at an attractive woman’s inner thigh, getting a peek at her silk red panties, and his jeans weren’t even a tiny bit tighter. Lindsay honestly wasn’t going to show up. Was she going to blow him off entirely or at least call with her new found phone?

  “I like your type.” She spread her leg a little wider. “Is this okay?”

  Angie was what he needed, a woman who point blank said he was her type. He swallowed the acid in the back of his throat. Apparently he wasn’t Lindsay’s type. She was the kind to sample the goods and vanish.

  Ivan stepped close. “Is our business manager coming tonight or not?”

  “Why don’t you call and ask her?” He rubbed his gloved hand over the tattoo in question. Practically feeling Angie up, he still felt no reaction. But yesterday, just a touch of Lindsay’s lips nearly sent him into a stupor.