by Emery Rose
“Why couldn’t you display graffiti in a gallery?” Killian asked.
He was asking for a favor and it was in my power to grant it. He didn’t remind me that I owed him and Eden for everything I’d put them through last year. Because of my fuck-up, Killian had been shot three times in the chest. Thank God he’d been wearing a bulletproof vest. He’d shot and killed the man who had threatened Eden’s life. Eden, who had been punched and kicked, bound at the ankles and wrists, a gun held to her head while I’d been tied to a chair, unable to help her. But it felt like Killian was trying to put that behind us. I didn’t want to do this exhibition, but it looked as if I needed to. “No reason I couldn’t.”
“Good. And next time you want to get your ex-girlfriend off, don’t do it at my dinner table.”
I chuckled under my breath. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
11
Ava
“They’re going to kill me,” I told Killian on the phone after I’d given him all the details of the gallery space—six hundred square feet of exhibition space in Bed-Stuy. Inclusion in a bi-monthly newsletter with two thousand subscribers. Social media exposure on the gallery’s website and Facebook page. A gallery technician to oversee the art installation. Music and a PA system. And a picture hanging system. Perfect. Except for one thing. A recent cancellation had freed up the only dates available for a year and it was only two months from now. Every other gallery space I’d called was booked for a year to two years in advance.
“It’s better this way,” Kilian said. “Less time to get themselves worked up about it. Book it.” He gave me his credit card details and assured me it would be fine. When we hung up, I booked the gallery, not so sure it would be fine.
“Great news,” I told Eden when she came into the office to pick up her paycheck. A positive attitude was the best approach. “I booked the gallery. For mid-December. That gives you two months to prepare.” I gave her two thumbs-up. “Perfect, right?”
Her jaw dropped to the floor and she slammed the door shut behind her. “Are you insane?” she shouted. “I won’t be ready in two months. I need more time… I need…” She stopped talking and started hyperventilating, pacing the floor, and saying “Oh my God” on repeat.
I reached into the desk drawer where I kept my emergency supplies and tossed her a pack of Twizzlers. “This is one of those situations where you just need to take the plunge,” I said as Eden chewed furiously on the licorice. “Dive right in.”
“Easy for you to say. You have no idea how stressful this is.”
I propped my feet on the desk and leaned back in my chair with my arms crossed. “Tell Dr. Christensen. I’ll talk you down from the ledge.”
“This is payback, isn’t it? For that coffee date and the dinner set-up. You’re trying to punish me for meddling in your relationship,” she accused.
“I should be offended you think so little of me.” I tossed her the Buddha stress ball. “Give Buddha a few squeezes. You’ll feel better. And no, this is not payback. Killian and I are doing this for you. It’s a great idea and you can thank us for it later. It’s going to be a total success. I believe in you.”
She chomped away on her Twizzlers and squeezed the stress ball in her other hand. Eden would be fine. She had Killian’s full support and she’d finished painting her mural on the boutique wall, so she’d have time to work on her paintings.
“Was Connor cool with it?”
Connor. I knew he was just doing this for Eden and Killian. He’d never had any desire to exhibit in a gallery. I cleared my throat. “He doesn’t know yet. I’m going to tell him in person. Today.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Really? You’re going to Forever Ink?”
I shrugged like it was no big deal. I used to hang out there a lot, but it had been a few years since I’d set foot in the tattoo shop. That was Connor’s space and I’d steered clear. “I can’t text or call him with something like this. I need to tell him in person.”
He’s going to kill me.
Eden nodded and replaced the Buddha on the shelf but kept the Twizzlers. “Do you think he can handle all of this, Ava? I didn’t even think of everything he’s dealing with when I railroaded him into this.”
“He’ll be okay,” I said, hoping it was true. “He does his best creative work when he’s under the wire. You should have seen him when he was working on his art school portfolio. He’d never planned to apply to art school, but his teacher believed in him and encouraged him to go for it. Connor decided to go for it one month before the deadline. Then he worked his ass off to get the pieces ready. And they were amazing.”
“And he not only got in, he got a scholarship.”
“Killian told you that?” I asked, surprised. I knew Connor wouldn’t have. He never bragged about it. I doubted he ever told anyone other than me, Killian, and Mr. Santos.
“Yeah. He’s proud of Connor,” Eden said. “He just has a hard time expressing it. But he’s getting better.”
“They seem like they’re doing better.” What I’d seen on Tuesday night had given me hope.
“Yeah. I think Killian’s ready to move on and put the past behind him.”
“That’s good. They need each other.”
“Yeah, they do,” she said thoughtfully. “So, what about you and Connor? Are you ready to put the past behind you?”
“I’m—”
The door swung open and Zeke stepped inside, saving me from having to answer the question. “What are you girls gossiping about?”
“You,” Eden and I said in unison and high-fived each other.
Zeke gave us a big wink. “Bet it’s juicy.”
“See you guys later,” Eden said, waving over her shoulder.
I groaned. “I hate the word juicy.”
Zeke laughed. “I know. Juicy. Moist. Nibbles.”
I shuddered. “Stop torturing me with your word porn.” I jumped up from my chair and pulled on my white cardigan, doing up the tiny pearl buttons then shouldered my bag. “I’m out of here.”
“Something I said?” Zeke asked, taking my seat and rolling it in front of the desk.
“Somewhere I need to be.” I didn’t know Connor’s schedule. I’d probably catch him in the middle of tattooing. It had been years since I’d watched him work. But I used to love it. Before I left, I filled Zeke in on everything I’d done today. Paid invoices. Updated our social media. Booked a Christmas party for a corporate law firm.
“You’re a star,” he said.
“I shine bright,” I agreed, happy with the way things had turned out with me and Zeke. It was like we’d never hooked up. We’d gone right back to being friends and colleagues with no awkwardness whatsoever. If only the rest of my life could be that simple.
“Love the hair, by the way,” he said, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he typed an email.
“They say blondes have more fun. Thought I’d test that theory again.”
“How’s that working out for you?”
I thought about the near-orgasm Connor gave me at the dinner table two nights ago. And the teasing kiss in the bathroom. He’d left me wanting more. On purpose. We couldn’t do that anymore. From now on, I wouldn’t allow myself to cross the lines of friendship. “Early days. But so far, so good.”
“I’m digging the Granny chic style,” he said.
I looked down at my white chiffon midi-skirt, black tights, and Doc Martens, not sure if that was a compliment or not. On my way out, I picked up a taco from Jimmy’s truck and asked him to put it in a to-go container. Carnitas was Connor’s favorite. Maybe a food donation would soften the blow.
On the fifteen-minute walk to Forever Ink, I made a mental inventory of how I could help Connor. I knew Jared used the same accounting software we used at the bar. I could help him with that and organize the office for him. I could set up an Instagram account for the shop, something I’d encouraged Jared to do ages ago, but he’d never done. The shop was open one to nine, seven days a
week. Fifty-six hours a week plus the extra hours for cleaning the shop and sterilizing the equipment. On top of that, he’d have to pay invoices, do the inventory and ordering, and the accounting. It wouldn’t be easy, but Connor could do this.
Despite barely scraping by in high school, Connor was smart. When he did study and put his mind to it, he’d easily pull off As on his exams to bring up his average to a passing mark. In our senior year, his English teacher accused him of cheating. She insisted that he’d either plagiarized or gotten someone else to write his essays. She called them brilliant and insightful and didn’t believe Connor had it in him to produce that kind of work. He’d flown off the handle, stalked out of her classroom, and slammed the door. The guidance counselor and principal had been called in to deal with it. Fortunately, the guidance counselor wasn’t a total tool and suggested that Connor write an essay in his office. The teacher grudgingly admitted that it was up to the same standard as the others, but Connor never got an apology which pissed him off. As a result, he handed in mediocre work for the rest of the year and ended up with a C instead of an A.
By the time I entered the shop, I felt good about my decision to support Connor. Maybe it would lessen the blow when I told him he only had two months to prepare for the exhibit. A girl with long dark hair, a lip ring and multiple ear piercings, peered at me over the counter. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No. I’m here to see Connor.”
My gaze wandered over to his station. He was tattooing a guy’s arm and laughing at whatever the guy said. Connor looked like he was in his element, like he was somewhere he belonged. Happy. Confident. Relaxed. In complete control of the machine in his hand. My gaze lingered on his face. He was in the zone, and nothing around him existed except for the guy and the tattoo he was working on. He got like that when he was working on his art, the same way I did with my aerial silks class.
“Connor’s busy,” the girl behind the counter said, drawing my attention back to her.
“I can wait.”
“He might be a while. And he doesn’t like to be interrupted when he’s working.”
“I’ll just sit on the sofa and wait for him to finish.”
“Suit yourself.”
Fine, I’ll suit myself.
I sank down into the black leather sofa, set the taco container on the coffee table, and crossed my legs to wait. While I waited, I watched Connor. He looked so good in his faded jeans and fitted white T-shirt, the muscles in his arm flexing as he inked his design.
God, I missed his body. I missed his everything.
I’d tried so hard to forget him. But he had been there in every song, in every memory, in every teardrop.
“Hey Ava,” Jared said, coming to stand in front of me. “Long time, no see.”
I stood and hugged Jared. After we chatted for a few minutes, he introduced me to Claudia, the girl behind the desk. “You should show Ava the jewelry,” he told Claudia. “She doesn’t mind a piercing, do you, girl?”
I already had three piercings in each ear and a belly button piercing, all of which I’d gotten at this shop when I was eighteen and had gone on a piercing spree. “I have a few, but I think I’m good.”
“How do you all know each other?” Claudia asked, trying to sound casual but she was obviously fishing for information and her eyes were narrowed on me.
“We go way back,” Jared said. “I met Connor and Ava six years ago. They were inseparable.”
“Once upon a time,” I said.
Claudia arched her brows. “The fairy tale ended?”
I looked her straight in the eye and saw it written all over her face. She wanted Connor. That’s why she’d given me attitude. She viewed me as the competition.
“The fairy tale isn’t over yet,” Connor said, coming out of nowhere. He slung an arm across my shoulder and tucked me close to his side like he was trying to prove something. “Ava is still my princess. I’m working on being her white knight.”
I lifted my eyes to his. “Sounds like a good story.”
“Guaranteed to have a happy ending.”
“You’re making guarantees now?”
He lowered his head and whispered in my ear. “Are you here to take advantage of me? That can be arranged.”
Without giving me a chance to respond, Connor guided me away from the desk and to the private room in the back. When we got inside, he closed the door behind me and caged me in his arms. “Miss me?”
Every. Single. Day.
His lips brushed across my jaw. My eyes closed, and I leaned back against the door for support. “Connor,” I whispered.
“Tell me what you want, Ava.”
He pressed his body against mine and I could feel his erection pressing against my hip. Oh God. How easy it would be to give myself to him. To let him take me on the tattoo table. Against the wall. Anywhere. He worked his kisses down my neck. They were just whispers of a kiss, so soft and gentle they almost hurt. I wanted to grind my body against his, release the ache between my thighs. Instead, I stayed perfectly still, the palms of my hands flat against the door, my legs trembling underneath me, my breathing ragged.
I need you. Now.
“Connor…” I panted.
“Tell me to stop.” The back of his fingers brushed over my nipple. My bra and T-shirt offered no protection. My nipples hardened under his touch and I was dizzy with need and want.
“Stop,” I whispered, knowing that he would do as I asked.
He dropped his arms to his side and took a few steps back. My body betraying my words, I leaned against the door for support.
“Your wish is my command.”
I hadn’t really meant it. But I wanted to mean it. “Did you sleep with Claudia?”
He tilted his head, studying my face. “Would it bother you if I said yes?”
I shrugged like it didn’t matter to me one way or the other. But it mattered. I couldn’t bear to think of him with her or anyone who wasn’t me. “Just curious.”
He grinned at me. “Give me an honest answer and I’ll tell you.”
“Whatever. It’s none of my business. We’re just friends.”
“That’s right. So why are you here, friend?”
Why was I here? Crap. I needed to tell him about the exhibit. “When’s your next customer?”
“Fifteen minutes. You looking for a quickie?”
“Get your mind out of the gutter.”
He escorted me out of the room and outside behind the shop. “I need some fresh air,” he said, lighting a cigarette.
“Doesn’t smoking defeat the purpose?”
“You know me. I’m a walking contradiction.” He took a drag on his cigarette and exhaled out the side of his mouth, the smoke drifting in the opposite direction of me. “So, what’s up, besides my dick?”
It was almost an invitation to look. Anyone would. The bulge in his jeans was hard to miss. Connor was… well-endowed. Yep, he had a big dick and he knew how to use it. Oh, did he ever.
“Are you checking me out?” he asked.
“No.” I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms, ignoring his chuckle. I side-eyed him. Smoking wasn’t supposed to be sexy. But when Connor smoked, it was sexy. When he inhaled, his eyes narrowed, the little lines around his eyes crinkling.
“Okay, listen, I’ve got something to tell you. Don’t freak out. I’m going to help you.”
“Help me do what?” he teased. “Are you going to get me off? My hand could use a rest.”
I stifled a groan. I didn’t want to think about him using his hand. Stay focused.
“I’ve booked the gallery for mid-December—”
“What the fuck?” He glared at me. I squared my shoulders and held my ground.
“It will be okay,” I said, trying to reassure him.
“Okay?” he asked incredulously. “I’ve got a shitload of things to deal with. I can’t—”
“You can. You’re an amazing artist, Connor. And like I said, you’re fast. You
can do graffiti on canvases or… would you use canvases?” He was still glaring at me. I waved my hand in the air. “Anyway, it’ll be just like throwing something up on a wall. Except you won’t need to worry about getting caught.”
He took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke in my direction.
“Rude,” I said, waving it away.
“Do you want me to fail, Ava?” he asked, his voice low and angry. But I heard the hurt in his voice, too. “Is that why you did this?”
“No. I don’t want you to fail. How could you think that?”
He snorted. “No idea. Maybe because you booked a fucking gallery, two months from now. Thanks for having my back, friend.”
“You’re not going to fail. I know you can do this. I watched you tattooing that guy and—”
“I’m not worried about the tattooing,” he said through gritted teeth. “Do you know how hard I need to work to stay away from drugs? I ran into Danny—” He stopped himself before giving the full name, but I knew exactly who he was talking about. Danny Vargas, scum of the earth. “He said he could hook me up. The people I used to know… the ones who are still using… they don’t want me to be clean. It pisses them off.”
“But you said no, right?”
He shook his head. “You still feel the need to ask. I guess that says it all.”
He tossed his cigarette on the ground and lit another one as he crushed the first one under the sole of his boot. I bit my lip to stop myself from calling him out on it. Smoking wasn’t great, but it was better than what he did before.
“I just… I worry about you, okay? Danny Vargas is a horrible human being. I blame him for getting you hooked—”
“Nobody forced me to do drugs. It was my choice. But now… I am trying so damn hard to make sure I don’t slip. And until just recently, I didn’t have Killian’s support. I didn’t have yours… hell, I still don’t know if I do. I don’t know where I stand with you on any given day. You love me. You hate me. Maybe you don’t even like me. What’s the point of being friends or anything else if you can’t even trust me?”