by J. A. Howell
Ian nodded, and pulled me to him once more, giving me a lingering kiss before leading me to the entrance. The look in his eyes said he wanted to do much more than freshen up before he headed out on the town.
It was late when my flight landed in New York. I breathed a sigh of relief as the seatbelt light dinged off and grabbed my bag out of the overhead bin. I’d spent most of the flight writing, or attempting to at least, but kept finding myself writing about Shayne. I’d managed to keep her from my mind most of the time in the last few months, but after going through finalizing the divorce today and thinking about my brothers, I couldn’t keep her out of my thoughts.
I hadn’t deleted my writing this time. It wasn’t as if I’d see her any time soon. And if I did, I’d blown my chances with her. Shayne was the type of person to keep her heart under lock and key and she’d let me see more than most. It only made what I’d done that much more despicable. Still, reflecting on my time with her brought me respite from my current state of being. The time spent with her was fun, exciting, and it brought out parts of me I never knew were there.
The plane taxied into the gate and a few minutes later the passengers started filing out. I took my time making my way through the airport. A row of waiting cabs sat outside of arrivals. I approached one, gave him the name of my apartment building, and relaxed against the pleather seat, my mind still on Shayne.
The lights from the buildings and street lamps danced across the back window in waves, bathing me in light one second and darkness the next. If I ever went back to Midtown to visit my brothers, there was a good chance I would see her again. If I did, what would I say to her? Would she even talk to me? We passed a hotel and I smiled at the sight of a woman with long black hair—just like Shayne’s. A man came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his face into her hair. Illicit memories of me gripping Shayne’s hair in my fist sent a shiver down my spine and I shifted against the seat as the cab stopped at a red light. The woman in front of the hotel looked up toward the buildings and light from the awning outside the hotel illuminated her face just before she turned and kissed the man that had been holding her.
She didn’t look like Shayne. She was Shayne.
I stared, open-mouthed as she embraced the man. He was another familiar face, one of her clients from the shop. So she has moved on, I thought, still reeling from the sight of her. It wasn’t as if I’d expected her not to. It would be my luck, the day I’m finally free of Kendall, I find out Shayne’s already taken. I hoped at least he was better to her than I was. She deserved someone good in her life, someone that wouldn’t take her for granted. Liam came up beside them before I looked away and I pulled my phone out, sending him a text.
:I’m in NY. I see you are too. We should talk.:
I pressed the send button and as the cab lurched forward with the flow of traffic I saw Liam glancing around, searching the sidewalks for me.
:Where the hell are you?:
I smiled to myself and messaged him back.
:I live here now. I just got back in town. What are you doing for dinner tomorrow?:
:I’ll be at a tattoo convention most of the day, but we can do dinner. Where do you want to meet?:
I was at least relieved to see we were on speaking terms. I messaged him the address to a nearby pub then shoved my phone into my pocket, settling back against the seat as my heart sank into my stomach.
I heard footsteps on the tile floor of the bathroom as I dipped my head under the spray of water. A moment later, Ian pulled the glass door back.
“Sleep well?” He asked, drinking in my wet, naked form.
“Mostly.” I answered. In all truth, I felt like I hadn’t slept at all. My night had been a blur of dreams I didn’t remember. Regardless of if I recalled what they were about, they’d left me with an uneasy feeling that still clung to me like a heavy fog. Ian got into the shower behind me and slid his arms around me, trailing soft kisses over my shoulder.
“I had fun last night. Did you?”
“Of course.” I smiled at him. He beamed mischievously and I continued sudsing up my body with a washcloth. His hand slid down over my hip, stopping at the juncture between my thighs, and I laid back against him with a grin.
“You know, these last few months, we’ve had a lot of fun together.” He started and my back tensed. Please tell me he isn’t actually bringing this up now.
“Yeah, we have.” I said, trying not to let the annoyance bleed into my voice.
“Look, I know what you said, that you wanted to just see how things go, but they’re going well. Why is it such a big deal if I call you my girlfriend or not?”
“I’ve told you before, I’m not ready for that yet. I like where we’re at right now. Besides, it isn’t like I’m sleeping with anyone else.”
It was true, I wasn’t even messing with Darren out of respect for Ian.
Ian sighed behind me, unable to hide his own annoyed tone. “Then if we are exclusive why do you get your panties in a twist if I want to call you my girlfriend?”
I pulled out of his grasp and reached for my towel, thoroughly aggravated with where this day was already headed. Maybe this was why I’d woken up in a sour mood. I should have trusted my initial suspicions about this trip. He did want to take things in a more serious direction.
Ian called after me but I ignored him, dried off, and dressed. He came out of the shower ten minutes later, not meeting my gaze and stomped over to his suitcase. I busied myself with my makeup as he dressed and we met Liam in the hall, neither of us saying anything.
“You two look cheerful.” Liam commented, following us to the elevator. I ignored him too and stared up at the descending floor numbers until we reached the lobby. The convention was opening in an hour. I was relieved that I had setup to keep me busy for that hour. Less time to talk to Ian about what we were or weren’t currently.
Liam gave me a curious look as we stepped out of the elevator and I only shrugged. Ian walked ahead of both of us toward the ballroom we were supposed to set up in. Liam didn’t miss the tension between us. Maybe he was relieved that, for once, the tension wasn’t caused by him.
“You alright?” He whispered to me so Ian couldn’t hear.
“I’ll be fine.”
He didn’t say anything else and we found our booths toward the back of the expansive room. Most of the other artists were already there setting up and I quickly got to work. My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it. With my luck, it was my mother calling again to bitch at me for money. I turned on my iPod to drown everything else out. By the time people started milling into the convention, I had my station sanitized and my portfolio set up. Ian was in the booth next to me. He looked up when he felt my gaze, but didn’t offer me a smile and quickly looked away once more.
The first few hours of the convention were slow, but I managed to pull in a couple tattoos. Normally, the buzz of my tattoo machine calmed my nerves, pulled me into my work, and wiped my mind of everything else. But not today. I didn’t know if it was just Ian, or something else, but I felt on edge, anxious about something.
I was just wrapping up a gorgeous botanical shoulder piece when my phone buzzed in my pocket again. I clenched my jaw in agitation, but forced a smile as the woman thanked me and handed me cash. There was a lull in the crowd so I pulled my phone out, looking over the list of missed calls.
The same number had called me fifteen times in the last few hours and it was a local number from Midtown, but not one I knew. I glanced at Ian then Liam but both were busy tattooing. With a shrug I left my booth, intent on having a smoke break and calling the number back. Maybe my mother was staying somewhere else and that was where she’d called from.
I hit redial on the number as I walked out of the front lobby. The phone rang once before a man picked up.
“Detective Jacob Dawson.”
“Oh,” I blew out a puff of smoke in surprise. “I’m sorry, I think someone called me from this number.”
>
The detective let out a long breath. “Am I speaking with Miss Shayne Wickham?”
“Yes.” My stomach clenched. This had to do with my mother, I just knew it. I could only imagine what she’d done now for me to get a call from the police.
“We’ve been trying to reach you all morning. My partner and I stopped at your apartment earlier. Is it possible for you to come by the station?”
“No. I’m actually out of state at the moment. Why? What has my mother done now? It has to do with her, doesn’t it?”
I heard him hesitate and there was another long breath. “I’m sorry Miss Wickham, but unfortunately this does have to do with your mother. We found her body this morning.”
“What? What happened?” A strange numbness started through me and I lifted the cigarette to my lips, drawing a deep inhale.
“Several gang members broke into the house of Julian DaMico last night and gunned down everyone there. Unfortunately, your mother was one of them. We’re still investigating the cause for the attack but it appears to be retribution over a bad drug deal.”
The cigarette dropped from my hand and I stood there, silent as the world shifted around me. I wasn’t sure how to feel, so I felt nothing.
“Miss Wickham, how soon are you able to come back? We need to discuss some further matters as soon as possible.”
I blinked, trying to shake myself from the haze his words put me under. “I’m supposed to come back Monday. Is that okay?”
“Yes. If you can come back sooner it would be best, but Monday is fine. I’m very sorry to have to tell you this way. You have my condolences.”
“Thanks.” I mumbled and hung up the phone, shoving it back into my pocket. I pulled another cigarette out of my pack, lit it, took a few puffs, and tossed it into the large ashtray outside. What was I supposed to do now? I had no idea. Cry over my mother? So many times I expected never to see her again. I’d expected something to happen to her, whether she just abandoned me or overdosed in a public restroom somewhere. But for something to actually happen…none of it felt real.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and headed back into the hotel, my body moving on auto-pilot. Ian looked up and offered a tentative smile. I tried to smile back, but nothing happened. I thought for a moment that I should tell him or Liam, but Ian didn’t know about my mother and Liam was in the middle of a tattoo.
Instead, I sat down at my booth and said nothing. Ian frowned and returned his attention to the tattoo he was working on.
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
What If I Don’t Want To Be Careful
Why don’t I feel anything? I should cry at least, right? What am I doing? I looked down at the ankle tattoo I had just finished in surprise. I’d been doing it for the last hour, but I couldn’t recall how I finished it. My hands had worked separate from my brain, like when you are on a long drive and it all blurs by.
“Oh I love it!” The girl on my table gushed and I forced a smile to my lips. I wrapped it for her and she handed me cash before bounding off with her boyfriend. A strange wave of emotions rose within me and I let out a long exhale to keep the tears from rising up as I watched them walk away. I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or horrified that the numbness I’d been feeling for the last few hours was wearing off.
A sharp pain shot through my finger as I sat there staring at nothing in particular. Looking down at my fingers I realized I’d snapped a nail against the tabletop. Blood pooled around my fingertip. I stuck it in my mouth and consciously eased my other hand off the table.
I should probably tell someone, I thought calmly. An indistinguishable mix of painful emotions formed a fireball in my chest, tearing through me and I just sat there unmoving, trying to keep a feeble grip on my sanity. If my nail was any indication, the thinning shreds of my composure were burning into fumes at neck-breaking speeds. Mechanically, I forced myself to my feet, flipped up the cardboard “I’ll be back” sign and walked the short six feet to Ian’s booth. Maybe it was time I told him about her, maybe it was time I stop pushing him away.
“Mmmm, so how low do those tattoos go?” A voluptuous girl with wavy brown hair ran her finger down Ian’s stomach as he held his shirt up for her and I balled my fists at my side waiting for him to slap her hand away. To my surprise, he didn’t. Not right away at least. His lips curled into a mischievous grin, and he licked his bottom lip in the way he did when he was getting aroused.
“Ian?” My voice trembled and he glanced up at me with a hardness to his gaze. The girl dropped her hand away and at least had the decency to look embarrassed. “What are you doing?” I blinked away a couple tears that had escaped and Ian shrugged.
“You said you didn’t want labels. I’m not your boyfriend, right? I didn’t think flirting with a woman would be something that bothered you, since I’m not your boyfriend.”
“But I’m not flirting with other guys.” I wiped at my face. Why was he being like this now? I did want him to be my boyfriend. I wanted him to wrap his arms around me and tell me things would be okay. Instead he was letting some random girl trail her fingers down his happy trail.
“I’m sorry, Shayne, but your rules for whatever the hell we are aren’t exactly clear.”
I blinked at him, struck dumb by his words as if someone had doused me in a bucket of cold water.
“So what is it, Shayne?” He said my name with a particular edge as he stood a few inches from me. “Did you just come over here to tell me what I’m not allowed to do as your non-boyfriend because I need to finish off this girl’s tattoo.”
“It’s nothing. It’s nothing.” I repeated and turned away from him before he could see the tears flowing down my cheek. Liam’s booth was empty at the moment too. There was nobody here I could talk to. Without another thought I made a beeline for the hotel entrance. I needed to get away from here.
I kept up a brisk pace as I stepped out onto the sidewalk. My breaths came in deep rasping gulps as more tears threatened. I shouldn’t be upset, I told myself. It wasn’t like she was ever my mother. Still, the wrenching pain in my chest tightened. I wiped a sleeve at my face again. The tears wouldn’t stop. They just kept flowing.
Blindly I shoved my way through a large group and broke into a run. Too many people. There were too many people around. This city was huge. I ignored the odd looks I got and even the few obscenities shouted at me. I ran for several blocks and my heart thumped in my chest, threatening to burst. A few more blocks away my legs felt like jelly and I slowed to a halt, laying back against the building to catch my breath. When I finally lifted my head, I saw a pub across the street. One that reminded me of Finley’s back home. I took a few breaths to slow my thumping heart then crossed the street and went inside.
“Another?” The bartender lifted a dark brow at me and I nodded, pushing my empty glass forward. His lips eased into a smile that stretched across a handsome face and reached his pale blue eyes. He had a familiar look to him that I couldn’t place. At the very least he was pleasant to look at as I drank myself into a stupor.
“Alright, this one’s on me.” He winked, at me and slid another glass toward me. I took it and downed the glass in a few easy gulps. “Easy there, I don’t want ta have ta pick ya up off the floor, love.”
I noticed his Irish brogue then and realized what it was that I’d found so familiar…He reminded me of Kieran.
“Of course!” I snorted to nobody in particular.
“‘Scuse me?”
“Nothing. Sorry. I’m just having a horrible day.” I laughed at the Kieran look-a-like.
“Well I can see that. The hell did ya do ta yer finger?”
“I um, broke a nail.” I looked at my finger. It had stopped bleeding but still looked pretty nasty.
“I’ve got a first aid kit in the back, why don’t ya let me clean it up fer ya.”
“I’m fine.” I told him, but he shook his head and came around the bar.
“Come on. Ya don’t want it gettin’ infected or somethi
ng. It’s time fer my break anyway.” He took my other hand and pulled me off the stool. My legs wavered slightly beneath me after a good hour of drinking but I managed to keep upright and followed him down the hall. We passed the restrooms and he pushed a door open on the opposite side of the hall. Racks of kitchen supplies and bottles of various liquors and beers filled the room except for a narrow walking space. The bartender pulled a red plastic box off one of the shelves and nodded for me to sit on a case of beer. “Now let me see.” He reached a large hand out and I held mine out to him.
“You really don’t have to do this.”
He ignored me, ripped open an alcohol wipe, and gently cleaned blood that had crusted around what was left of my fingernail. “So, how exactly did ya break yer nail like that? Boyfriend piss ya off?”
I laughed. “No. I don’t have a boyfriend.”
His blue eyes darted up at that. “No? A gorgeous girl like ya? Must be a bunch of arseholes wherever yer from.” He teased.
“Rhode Island.” I said and he let out an amused snort.
“Mm, that explains it then. Not much there, eh? So what’s got ya drinkin’ like a fish? I’ve been watchin’ ya down drinks fer the last hour. Ya looked pretty upset when ya first walked in.”
My heart lurched painfully in my chest and despite how lightheaded I already was, I desperately wanted another drink. “I lost something.”
He glanced up at me for a moment as he wrapped my finger in gauze. “Do ya need help findin’ it?”
“It’s gone. I can’t get it back.” I said around the forming lump in my throat.
“Oh,” he frowned, still looking down at my hand. “I’m sorry. There anything I can do fer ya then?”
I blinked away a couple more tears and his frown deepened as he watched me.
“No. Sorry. I’ll be fine.”
“Oh come on, love. No tears in my pub.” He wiped a tear from my cheek and I let out a soft laugh.
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop that! Why are ya apologizin’?” He let out a deep husky laugh, one that echoed laughs I’d heard from Kieran and a faint smile crossed my lips. The bartender put the first aid kit away and looked me over, brushing his palm over my cheek in a sweet manner. “Well at least I got a small smile out of ya. Yer even prettier when ya smile. Ya know that?”