Nine: A pINK Novel (A pINK Series Book 1)

by K. S. Thomas

  “Oh my God!” She wrings the dish towel in her hands, completely distraught now. “I didn’t know you guys were there unsupervised!”

  “Relax.” I rub her shoulder. “It’s not like anything happened. Well, nothing with any lingering side effects at least. Not to mention, it’s a little late to be worried about high school stuff now.”

  But I can tell she’s going to let it all simmer for a bit longer so I take this moment to make my exit. “I’m just going to go grab a shower. Memphis and I are meeting up in a bit.”

  “Yeah.” She nods absentmindedly. “Memphis. Did he go hang out at Derek’s too?”

  “No.”

  “Well, at least one of your friends had some morals.”

  Memphis had morals, but that wasn’t keeping him from spending every waking minute with a girl he was completely consumed by. He just wasn’t doing it at Derek’s house.

  I’m nearly out her sight when she reels me back. “You still haven’t told me.”

  I turn back, but I stay put. You don’t give up when you’re this close to making your getaway. “Told you what?”

  “Where you’ve been spending all your time.”

  “Ma.” My eyes dart all around this kitchen, hoping something will catch. Anything other than her. I can’t lie to her face. She’s still my mother. “Can’t you just let me keep this to myself for now? I promise, when it’s serious, I’ll tell you.”

  “Oh my God,” she gasps, her hand covering her mouth, her eyes widening as if she’s just seen a cow flying by the window, like in that movie, Twister. I don’t know why, but that scene always stuck with me. Anytime someone takes on that expression of disbelief and horror, that’s what I imagine them seeing. Only, it’s sunny out and there’s barely a breeze. Zero percent chance of flying cattle today.

  “What?”

  “No.” She’s tossing her head back and forth so hard, her usually perfectly placed hair is going wild. “No!”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  One shaky finger comes out to point at something. A barstool. The one she always sits in.

  “It’s Olivia,” my mother hisses through her teeth. And she’s not so much having a psychotic break as much as she’s pissed the fuck off. I don’t remember the last time I saw her this furious about something. Wait. Not true. The night I told her I joined the army she looked alarmingly like this.

  “Why would you say that?” Because there’s no way in hell I’m just admitting it now.

  “You were avoiding eye contact. And you chose that spot.” She jabs the air above the empty stool. “You were lying to me and your mind went straight to the thing you were lying about. Her.”

  Fuck it. “Fine. Yes. You’re right. It’s Olivia. I’m with Olivia.”

  “End it.” Her words are cold and final. “Now.”

  “Ma, I’m twenty-five. You can’t tell me what to do anymore.” As angry as she is, it’s impossible to take her even remotely seriously when she’s throwing orders my way. She hasn’t been in a position to tell me to go to bed or do my homework or ground me in years. The concept of having her exert any sort of control over my love life is laughable.

  “As long as you live in my house, I will have my say!”

  And here we go. The conversation has reached the place I never wanted it to go.

  “That’s fine. I’ll move out.” Problem solved. Argument over, at least as far as I’m concerned. I might as well start packing.

  “Don’t you walk away from me, Lucas. This is far from over.” I can hear her heels snapping hard on the tile as she stomps after me.

  “You don’t get it, Ma. It is. You don’t want me seeing Liv while I live in your house, I won’t live in your house. End of story.”

  “I can’t believe you would choose her over your own family.” Guilt. She likes guilt. Thing is, I’m already carting around more of that than I can manage, so I’m not really in the market to take on any more. Especially not the manufactured kind that has no basis in reality.

  “Stop. You can’t put me in a position to pick one over the other and then be mad when I don’t choose the way you want. I’m not choosing her over you. I’m choosing being with her over living in your house. They’re not the same, and frankly, living here was never going to be permanent anyway. Hell, maybe I shouldn’t have move back home to begin with.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have come back at all,” she says bitterly. A quiet coolness settles in around us. The heated fight is winding down and moving into the more manageable, but usually hurtful and calculated part of the process.

  “I was always gonna come back, Ma.” Maybe it’s time she heard it. All of it. “I know my leaving caused you pain and that was never what I wanted. That’s why I came back here, to this house. That’s why I moved back in. To give you back some of the time I took from you when I ran out. To try and make right what I did wrong back then. But I came home...for her. I was always coming back for her. And somewhere deep inside you, I know you knew that all along.”

  “But...she’s...her.” The anguish in my mother’s face is the first genuine thing I’ve seen there since this turned ugly. I hate this. Hate that this is hurting her. The only thing I hate more is that my feelings for someone so incredible can bring out such horrible emotions in my own mother.

  “Yeah. She is.” I don’t know what else to say. “I guess we both just have to live with being disappointed in the other, Ma.” I shake my head at her and start down the hall for the third time.

  “I’m not disappointed.” The clarity of her words strikes me. They’re no longer shrouded in hurt or anger.

  “Could have fooled me.”

  “Clearly.” She catches up to me. “Fine. Olivia’s not the first woman I would have chosen for you, but you’re right. I did know. I was there. I saw you. Saw the way you were captivated by her even when you were just a kid. I expected you to grow out of it. Expected your teenage fantasies to give way to real girls – girls your own age – but they didn’t. You adored Liv. When you came back here for Mateo’s funeral, I knew then, she was always going to have a hold on you. If years apart and distance couldn’t help you forget, nothing was ever going to. I get that. And I don’t disapprove. Liv is a remarkable woman. She makes me crazy a lot of the time, but often it’s out of envy more than anything. I’ll never be as brave or bold as she is.”

  I’m speechless. It’s like I’m talking to a complete stranger. A complete stranger who knows me inside and out. It’s surreal.

  “Then why?” I motion toward the kitchen. The scene of her outrage. “Why did you say those things?”

  “Because I’m scared.” Tears well in her eyes in an instant and I realize she’s been holding them at bay this whole time. I’m a shit son. “Liv’s family history scares me. The idea of having another person I love involved with a Badilla...scares me.”

  I could defend Liv. Could insist on my mother seeing the difference between her and Marcus. Myself and my aunt, my mother’s sister, but I don’t. I get it. Fear is irrational. Hurt is hurt. She’s entitled to her feelings. She has good reason to have them. They don’t have to be logical, or even based on truth. No matter what the reality is, her feelings are equally real, and I’m not going to disrespect her losses by insisting otherwise.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumble. Empty words because they won’t change anything. I won’t change anything.

  She just moves her head up and down, pressing her lips together and dabbing at her eyes with her fingertips so not to smear her perfect makeup.

  And I do something I haven’t done nearly enough since I showed back up on her front door step. I hug her. I hold her tight and tell her I love her. I’m never going to be the son she wants me to be, but she’s always going to be my mother, and I’m always going to love her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Heartbreaker

  Shampoo. That’s the reason this happened. I ran out of shampoo. I could have just sucked it up and used my shower soap until th
at runs out too, but no, I wanted to have new shampoo. My shampoo. The kind that smells pretty and makes my hair all shiny. That’s really all it’s got going for it anyway. Shine and scent. It’s unruly and even unkind under certain weather related conditions. I wasn’t prepared to give up the scent and shine. Not now. Not when Lucas comes around and likes to smell it and stare at it for no apparent reason other than it seems to put a goony looking grin on his face. I like knowing he got it from looking at me. Maybe shampoo isn’t the reason. Maybe his goony grin is. Either way, here I sit.

  My tire blew out halfway between my shop and Walmart. All because some idiot didn’t tie down his ladder and it came flying out of the back of his pickup, just to land neatly in my lane, where I ran over it. My little car is not equipped to handle such obstacles. Speed, that’s it’s strong point. Stupid debris in the road, not so much.

  I guess I can blame the ladder too. Shampoo, grins and ladders. All three are dead to me.

  “Hey, why isn’t Sketch answering her phone?” I ask as soon as Cherry picks up the shop line.

  “Probably because you have a rule about not having phones on while needles are out,” she replies dryly.

  “That’s a stupid rule. What if there’s a fucking emergency?”

  I can hear the tapping of keyboard keys. She’s only half listening, half handling the office crap she hates but I make her do anyway because she’s the closest thing we have to a manager. “Do you have a fucking emergency?”

  “My tire blew out. I’m stuck on 44. You know, the road with nothing on it except and an end and a beginning? And I’m nowhere near either.”

  “Shitty.”

  I groan loudly. “You’re not helping. Is Princess around?”

  “Yeah. Everyone’s here.”

  “Is she also with a client?” The words come out of my mouth in slow motion whale speak. Cherry is driving me nuts today. Serves me right for asking her to redo the calendar and reschedule half of our appointments. Not like I wanted it any more than she did, but I’m still not the one stuck making all those calls.

  “Yes. Everyone is with a client. Except me. I’m with the phone. And the computer. And the typing. And the calling. And the angry people who hate to hear no.”

  “I get it. I gave you a sucky job. I’m sorry. And thanks for nothing.” Then I hang up. Pathetic or not, I’m about to call my niece. She’s the only other person who comes to mind when I think cars. She’s a little badass. Even had her change my oil last month. She’ll know how to fix this.

  “Where you at?”

  “Casa McNealy. What’s up?”

  “I have a flat tire and Sketch is busy. Can you like, talk me through this or something?” I mean, it can’t be that hard. People deliver babies over the phone all the time on TV, I can definitely apply the same method to changing my tire.

  “Oh no, not baby blue,” she cries into the receiver.

  “I like how you care about my car and all, but where is the concern for your aunt?” I huff.

  “What, you called me, right? Talking. Breathing. How much concern should I show?”

  I’m about explain just how much when I hear that undeniable baritone I’m becoming so attached to and it sends a quiver through my core in an instant. “Is that Liv?”

  There’s a brief exchange between the two. Then, Lucas is on the line. “Where are you?”

  “44. Halfway between the interstate and Walmart.”

  “I’ll be there in fifteen. Sit tight.”

  And then it’s back to waiting.

  Lucas beats his own estimations and shows up in nine minutes instead of fifteen. It still felt like nine hours, but I’m not an ungrateful ass, so I don’t mention it.

  “How many people did you call before I happened to walk in and intercept your pleas for help?” he asks walking toward me from his truck.

  “Just Sketch. And Princess. Then Madi.” I can see where this list isn’t playing out in my favor.

  “Were you ever going to call me?”

  I shrug. “I’m not used to calling you.”

  He stops in front of me, his thumb reaching out to lift my chin to meet his bossy face. “The next time you need rescuing; I want you to call me first. You’re not the type of woman who’s going to give me a hell of a lot of chances to swoop in and be her knight in shining armor. Don’t go screwing me out of what few opportunities come along.”

  “You want to be my knight in shining armor?”

  His lips stretch into a smile just as he leans in to kiss me.

  “I want to be your everything,” he murmurs, “but yeah, I’ll settle for knight in shining armor in the meantime.”

  Now I’m the one all dopey eyed and goofy faced like I’m straight out of a Harlequin novel. “In my defense. I don’t usually have to call. You have a way of just showing up when I need you.”

  “That’s not a bad defense,” he nudges my nose with the tip of his playfully. “Alright. Let’s see about this tire.” His hand slips into mine as he leads the way to the other side of the car and the back tire hanging from the rim in shreds.

  He lets out a low grunt of multiple curse words as he assesses the damage, then, in his true get shit done fashion, he takes on the task of not only fixing my tire, but also teaching me as he goes. I briefly feign dumb, helpless girl, but it only causes him to sneer at me in disgust. So, I suck it up and learn how to change my damn tire. I can’t see how I’ll ever need to know how to do this, what with SuperLuke always keeping an eye out for the Liv-signal in the sky. I know, I’m overlapping my superhero metaphors here, but I’ve got a hot guy engaging in physical labor using his hands and shit and getting dirty all in the interest of saving my ass. I can’t be expected to think clearly under these conditions.

  Lucas

  “That new tattoo is coming along nicely,” Memphis says, pointing at my back. We’ve just finished sparring. Our fifth session this week. He likes it because he’s sitting on nearly eight years of pent up anger. Normally I just appreciate a workout that requires more attention than the treadmill does, but after the last few weeks, not to mention my mother’s breakdown yesterday, the appeal for me has become increasingly closer to his. Punching things really takes the edge off when you’re stuck feeling like the world is turning dark and there’s nothing you can fucking do about it.

  “Yeah. Should be close to done after tonight.” Not sure if she knows it, since there was no mention of it while I was changing her tire earlier, but I’ve got a session with Heartbreaker this evening. Scheduled it with Cherry as per her instructions last time she freaked and kicked me out of the shop. Of course, I went for later rather than sooner, to drag out the time she’d be stuck with me. I wonder how many more times we’ll have to go through that particular process. With the shift happening between us we should be close to done with it by now.

  “What time are you going in?”

  “Around eight. Why?”

  He shrugs. “Juli’s been bugging me about wanting a tattoo. Thought maybe I’d bring her by to meet the girls.”

  “And scare her right out of it, or what?”

  Juli’s a straight up rodeo princess, tiara and all. She can handle herself around horses and cattle, but I don’t get the feeling she’d fare so well around the girls at Pink.

  His face distorts into a painful grin, because he knows I’m right. “She wants a damn butterfly or some other generic shit. I’ve tried to talk her out of it myself, but I haven’t had any luck.”

  “Maybe because you’re a walking talking poster boy for getting inked. The girl’s nuts about you, so I’m not surprised she wants to go and get a tattoo. Probably only doing it for you in the first place.”

  He grabs a towel from his gym bag and wipes his face. “What the hell for? If that mattered to me, I probably wouldn’t be dating her in the first place.”

  “Does she know about Riot?” Even at sixteen, she already had several tattoos. All hidden unless you went to the beach with her. Then they were pretty undeniable
. Makes sense now, knowing she’s Sketch’s sister.

  He shakes his head, a darkness settling in his eyes. Her name does that. I should have known better. “No. And she doesn’t need to either, so keep your trap shut.”

  “What about Sketch? You don’t worry she might say something if you take your new girlfriend in to see her?”

  His brows rise up about an inch into his forehead. “I see you and Heartbreaker talk about more than just your non-existent relationship.”

  “Really?”

  He shakes his head, tossing the towel back onto the bag on the floor. “No. Sorry, man.” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “It’s just...I don’t like talking about her, and I didn’t realize you knew she and Sketch were sisters.”

  “Honestly, I was a little surprised you never mentioned it.”

  “I don’t like talking about her,” he repeats the same statement to me.

  “And you don’t think that maybe bringing Juli around will make you have to talk about her?”

  “No. Sketch doesn’t like talking about her either. That’s why I go see her; because we can not talk about her together.”

  I guess that makes sense.

  “So, then Juli’s getting a tattoo.”

  He nods, still brooding.

  “And for the record, I broke out of the friend zone two days ago so take your smartass comments and shove ‘em. We’re a thing now. I got the girl.”

  The change in topic does little to change his mood though. “Trick is going to be trying to hang onto her.”

  He’s not wrong. She’s probably not going to disappear one night like Riot did, but I can’t deny that Heartbreaker is likely to have an escape route planned at every turn for a long, long while to come.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Heartbreaker

  “Madi?” I stop dead in my tracks when I see her in the lobby. “What are you doing here? I thought I told you not to come by the shop while your father’s in town.”

  She scowls. “Can we not call him that?” She drops her backpack in one of the chairs behind the reception desk. “Ash and Hayes had a family thing and I was bored sitting at the house alone.”