by Kira Blakely
We giggled about it, and it felt good. It felt damn good to have a normal conversation without arguing or the sensation that my heart was about to pop out of my chest because I wanted to touch them so bad. Him so bad.
Ugh, I still couldn’t shake that, even though he’d made it clear we were nothing.
Nat slurped her coffee and eyed me over the rim of her cup. “Are you all right, boss? You’ve been quiet lately. It’s been quiet in the shop.”
“You miss Ben?” Or was it Jerry she’d been interested in?
“Nah, I saw him last night. We went out for dinner, and then he took me back to his place and—”
I waved at her. “Trust me, I don’t need the juicy details. Don’t eat in front of the hungry, haven’t you heard?”
“And we listened to Tom Petty,” Nat finished. “Is what I was going to say. Sheesh, you must think I’m some kinda sex maniac.”
“No, I don’t,” I replied. Maybe I was the sex maniac. God, if I’d gone home with Cain after a date there wouldn’t have been any Tom Petty, there would have been nothing but pleasure and then the sweet agony of knowing it was nothing but one night.
I shook my head. I had to quit thinking like this.
Cain was a frustration. He wouldn’t let me buy him out, even though I’d been pre-approved for a loan at the bank. Miracles did happen, apparently.
“I meant that it’s quiet without Cain in the shop,” Nat said, and set down her cup. She twisted a couple strands of purple hair around her index finger and sighed. “I won’t deny I miss the eye candy, but I’m kinda more worried about how you’re taking it.”
“Taking what?”
“Him not being here. Come on, I saw that kiss. I saw how you two were around each other. You were totally into it. Into each other.”
“It was nothing,” I said. Really, it had been nothing. Now, I saw that. “And it will remain nothing. What we need to do is focus on bringing in more business now that the show’s fallen through. We can’t let this destroy us. You know what, Nat? There’s no ‘can’t’ about it. We won’t let this destroy us or Get Ink’d. My father worked for too long and too hard to—”
Knuckles rapped against glass at the front of the store, and I checked my watch. We weren’t open yet, and the first appointment wasn’t for another hour after opening time.
“I’ll get it,” Nat said and launched herself out of the chair.
I sipped my coffee in the silence, mulling over what she’d said. Yeah, it was horribly different without Cain here, and it made me ache inside, but he’d made the decision for me. And I’d been a fool to even consider opening my heart to him again.
God, hadn’t I learned my lesson with Steven?
Nat’s footsteps traveled back to the office door, and she peeked her head around the corner. “Uh, boss?”
“Yeah?”
“Um, Kelly Hayes is here to see you.”
“What?!”
“Kelly Hayes. Should I let her in?”
Fuck. Now, that was both unexpected and unwelcome, but a part of me was curious. She’d tried sniping Cain from the shop, and I’d long suspected that the picture I’d received from that “unknown” number had been from her, directly or indirectly.
“Boss?”
“Yeah, let her in,” I said.
Nat’s eyebrow ring did a dance all of its own. “Damn, are you sure?”
“Hundreds.”
Nat disappeared again and came back a minute later to pick up her coffee, with Kelly right on her tail.
My ex-best friend was as exotic and beautiful as she’d always been. Pity she was toxic as a nuclear waste dump inside. Intricate tattoos spread across her chest and up to her neck, and she’d recently done a feather under her left eye if the redness around it was an indication.
“Margot,” Kelly said, and threw her arms wide.
“That’s Margarine to you,” Nat whispered.
I couldn’t help but crack a smile at that. My receptionist hurried out of the office but left the door open. That was my new policy: door open if I didn’t trust the person in here with me.
Kelly pretended she hadn’t heard what Nat had said and swept across the room, swaying her non-existent hips. She sat down across from me and offered me the smile I’d thought was genuine years ago, before I’d learned better.
“What do you want, Kelly?” I asked.
“Wow, you’re welcoming,” she replied. “Are you feeling cranky this morning, Margot?”
When we were kids, she’d always been the leader of our two-man gang. She was the alpha, and I was meant to be the follower, though I’d never subscribed to that position. It likely still pissed her off that I didn’t bow down to whatever she thought she was. A queen?
“I’ll feel better when you spit out what you want, then get the hell out of my office. I don’t have time to waste, not now.”
“Yeah, I heard you’re having a little trouble now that your show’s been cancelled. Rumor has it Cain hasn’t been tattooing for you for the past week.”
“Rumor?”
Kelly checked her claw-like nails, bright purple to match her store’s interior, then flicked an invisible bit of dirt out from underneath one of them. “I have my sources.”
“The same source who takes pictures and sends them to my phone?” I asked.
Kelly shrugged. “I didn’t say my sources were discreet.”
“No, you didn’t.” I’d already tired of having her and her overbearing perfume in my office. Gosh, couldn’t things around here just be peaceful for more than a couple minutes?
“In truth, I kinda figured Cain wouldn’t be around after what happened. It made national news, honey, the fact that he threw a punch at an executive. That’s real bad for business. He’s probably doing you a favor by staying away.”
“Kelly, your opinion on my business partner means nothing to me. Kindly get to the point.” Ugh, it blew to call him that without actually having him around anymore.
“I want your shop,” she purred, and placed her palm flat on the desk, leaned in, dark eyes sparkling. “I want it, and I’ve come to get it. Sell it to me.”
I stared at her as if she’d grown an extra head. She may as well have.
Silence built between us, flowered, and spread. Kelly had lost her mind if she thought for a second I’d ever sell my half of Get Ink’d to her. She had lost her grip on reality.
“What do you say?” she asked. “I know you’re struggling. I can turn this shop into something special, better than whatever you and your father tried to conjure up with the tacky pictures and the red paint.”
“As opposed to the zebra stripes and nudity in your shop?” I rolled my eyes at her. “Not to be petty here, Kelly, but you can kiss my lily-white ass if you think I’ll ever sell to you. Dealing with you is like dealing with a fucking snake. In fact, no, that’s too nice. It’s like dealing with a demon. Do you really think after everything you and Steven did to me that I’d ever even consider it?” I asked.
The corner of her lip tugged upward as if what I’d said was amusing. “I don’t see that you have much of a choice. You’re already failing the shop, your father.” Oh man, she hit low. “Why draw out the inevitable?”
“Let me make something crystal-fucking-clear to you, Hayes,” I said and rose, boiling and about to spill over. “I would rather die than give you this shop. I will burn it to the fucking ground before I see you dig your greedy, tacky little claws into it.”
She stood up too, and the smile had turned nasty, sickly, even. “You’ll regret this.”
“Uh-huh, yeah. In case you didn’t catch the cue, that’s a no from me.” I channeled my inner Simon Cowell. “And you can get the hell out of my shop before I call the cops and have you removed for trespassing on private property.”
Kelly snarled.
“Buh-bye.” I waved at her. Yeah, it was catty, but in the time after Steven and Kelly had betrayed me, I’d never spoken to her like this. I’d let it lie. I’d simply
kicked Steven out and ignored her. Dealt with all the anger and kept it under control.
Now? It was good to let it out. It was good to show her that I wasn’t a goddamn doormat.
Kelly clicked her tongue once then spun on one nine-inch heel and clip-clopped out of my office.
The quiet afterward should’ve been triumphant. Instead, it was empty.
I sank to my chair and stared at my coffee cup.
Cain was gone. No amount of inner fire could change that fact. He was gone, and he wouldn’t come back.
Chapter 27
Cain
The view out of my apartment bored me to shit.
I massaged my chest and lifted my phone, stared at the screen, considered calling her for the fifteenth time in the last half an hour. Fuck it, that was once every two minutes. That was more than the average man thought about sex, supposedly.
I smacked my forehead and shoved my cell phone onto the coffee table.
Margot had been the only thing keeping me from filling the hole, again and again, with everything from booze to skydiving. And now, she was gone. Or rather, I’d pushed her as far away as I could.
I wouldn’t change. Neither would she.
She was the comfort-zone family-girl, and I was the crazy motherfucker who punched assholes for stepping out of line. She didn’t need that in her life.
Still, I couldn’t quite let go of the business. If she needed me, my protection, from whatever, I had to have an in, and Get Ink’d was that.
I rose from the sofa and walked over to the view that had ceased to touch me. To please me. Maybe it was time to move again. But where?
Nothing intrigued me anymore.
Not the chance to move to Mauritius, nor the heat in Spain, nor the smoggy grittiness of New York. All the places I’d loved before were nothing but a pale shadow of what they should’ve been in my mind.
All I saw was her.
Margot, cornered, her back against the wall, her face filled with terror. Frozen in shock.
“Fuck,” I grunted and thumped the side of my fist against the window. “Fuck, Margot.”
What the hell was I supposed to do with this shit? What would my mother have done?
Memories of her had never faded.
Her long dark hair and the soft smile as she pinched my cheek as a kid and congratulated me, and then the long illness that followed, that chipped away at who she was, even as she gave so much of herself away to others.
The fights my father had had with her. The screaming matches even when she was ill, and the resultant arguments I’d had with him as a result.
And then the last day. The day before it all ended, and the words she’d spoken to me then.
Told me how much she loved me. How I could do so much good.
I cleared my throat and shook my head, refused to accept the memory right now. I never thought about that day. It would tear me apart to go over it again, and I didn’t need that, now or ever.
“Get your shit together, asshole.” I studied those buildings, the people, and the cars far below, snaking along the roads. It was early afternoon, and everyone bustled around. They lived while I lingered. Limbo.
What would Margot be up to now?
Either tattooing one of her regulars, wielding that gun with the skill she’d honed under her father’s watchful eye, or drinking another cup of Nat’s terrible coffee.
Hey, Nat. That was her name. The purple-haired chick. What a weird time to remember that. Then again, she was important to Margot.
My cell phone trilled behind me, and I turned, picked it up, answered. “This is Foster,” I said and held my breath.
For what?
“Mr. Foster.” The grind in Mr. Begay’s tone was unmistakable. He’d heard. About everything. After all, the show had been canceled, and that equaled news in reality show circles.
“Yeah,” I said.
“This is Mr. Begay. I’m calling to talk to you about your mother’s charity. Mr. Foster, it’s come to our attention that you’ve been at the heart of a scandal in the past weeks.” Stiff as a board. Did the man have any emotion? Ha, I was one to fucking talk.
“Yeah, it wasn’t a scandal. It was a mishap.” Mist hap? The memory of standing in front of those folks in the hall, while Begay looked on and Margot basically covered my gonads from view was a shot to the head.
“It was exactly what I warned you against, Mr. Foster. Trust me when I say we’ve appreciated your ongoing support, your donations, but the National Fund for Animal Rescue can no longer associate with someone who perpetuates this type of behavior. Particularly when that someone is one of the founder’s sons. We’re going to have to separate ourselves from this situation. Perhaps in the future we’ll be able to talk about this again, when you’ve cleaned up, but until such a time—”
“I understand,” I said, and the guilt that weighed down my gut felt like an end to something. “Sorry.”
“Good luck to you, Mr. Foster, in all your future endeavors.” Begay hung up and left me listening to nothing.
Fuck.
So, that was it. My mother’s charity, my last tie to who she’d been, the way she’d cared, was gone. I’d done this. I’d burned Margot, and I’d burned myself by loving her.
“Loving!” I choked it out and thumped the window again, dropped my phone to the floor. “Fuck that and fuck this.”
I had to get out of there before I destroyed myself pining, away from her. Anything was better than just sitting there, thinking about what I’d done. What we’d done.
I grabbed my coat on the way to the door, then let myself out.
I wouldn’t be back. Not until the day I came back to collect my shit and leave Chicago for good.
*
“You sure about this, bucko?” Roger clapped a hand down on my back, then adjusted his black peak cap—the Monster logo in green on the front. “It’s been awhile since you last took her out on the track.”
“I don’t sponsor this bad boy for nothing,” I said, and patted the top of the actinic blue Camaro ZL1. It was the newest to grace the track at the Chicagoland Speedway. Sleek lines and lights that looked like the eyes of a demon.
The car was danger.
It was trouble.
It was death made of metal, and it suited me just goddamn fine, right now.
“All right,” Roger said, and huffed a sigh. “You want me to come along for the ride?”
“No, I’m good.” I opened the driver’s side door and looked up and down the long road that was the pit lane, empty on a Tuesday afternoon. I’d made the drive to the Speedway this morning and met with Roger Buck the minute I arrived.
They’d opened up the track for me. There were a couple other cars on the track, or had been a half hour ago, but it was quiet. Perfect for a little fun. Something to chase the adrenaline levels up and rid me of the morose attitude that had taken me this past month.
No word from Margot.
And why would I have heard from her? She wanted nothing to do with me.
Sunlight baked the top of my head, and I rolled my shoulders under the fire-retardant suit. I shifted the Simpson helmet in my left hand, soaking in the moment before the drive. This would be good. I itched to be free of the nothingness in my chest.
“Now, you know I’m not one to talk about girly shit, Foster, but something’s bugging you, and I’d like to know what it is.”
“Nothing’s bugging me, man.”
“I’m just saying,” Roger said and sniffed. “I’m just saying it ain’t a good idea to hit the track when you’re not in the right state of mind. Mindset is everything.”
“Wow, Roger, when did you get a degree in psychology?”
He pulled a face and cocked his head back so the flesh under his chin formed rolls. “Bitch, please.”
I laughed. “Roger, fuck it, I know the rules. How many times have I come down here for some fun, eh? How many?”
“Shit, at least twenty, thirty?”
“Right, so I�
��m well aware of how it works, aight? I’m good, buddy. I’m all good.”
“You look like someone’s dragged you backward through a graveyard.”
“Aw, buddy, that’s so fucking nice of you. You look like you came outta your dad instead of your momma.”
Roger narrowed his eyes at me, a slight smile twisting his lips at the corners. “You calling me a piece of shit or a son of a bitch?”
“Take your pick,” I said and spread my arms, holding the helmet out at my side. “Now, you gonna let me go for a ride, or do I have to stand here all day reassuring you about my mental state?”
“Go,” Roger said and cuffed me on the shoulder. “Just be safe about it. Don’t push too hard, Foster.”
“When do I ever push too hard?”
“Every time.”
He was right about that. I’d grown a reputation around here as a risk-taker, and that didn’t exactly endear people to me.
“You crash that car you’re gonna buy another one. Not a scratch, Foster.”
“I hear you. And that won’t be a problem.” I placed the helmet on my head, then got into the car. Gasoline and burnt rubber, that was all I wanted right now. Maybe fucking amnesia. I clipped the restraints into place then inhaled through my nose and out through my mouth.
Fuck yes. This felt good.
I started the engine, and I was lost in the purr, in the heat, for a minute.
Finally, I put my foot down and took off down the track, shifting gears effortlessly, pushing hard, harder, harder, faster. The bleachers and whiteboards on the side of the track flashed by, the tires tore up the tar.
The smile faded from my lips.
The usual whoop of joy, the freedom, was absent.
“More speed, that’s all.” I put my pedal to the metal and fucking zipped around the corners, flying by the seat of my pants, kicking down only at the last second, the ass of the Camaro swaying out.
It wasn’t enough.
The adrenaline was there, but the hollow shit was too. It hadn’t changed anything.
Fuck, this was the most exciting activity I could conceive of, and it did nothing for me.
“Faster!” I growled.