Bad Ink

by Megan Hetherington

  We both feel a thrill of nervous excitement when I pull the Porsche off the drive and head towards Granville. Singing along to songs on the radio and making up rhymes all the way there.

  The smell of corn dogs and mustard pulls us from the car and Hope chatters away as we walk under the brightly lit arch at the entrance to the fairground. She avidly points at various attractions and gasps at the screams she can hear from riders on the Ferris Wheel.

  Then I spot Isaac, stood next to a cactus-toss stall, his hands stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans.

  I squeeze Hope’s little hand and pace toward him. He’s wearing a hoodie, zipped to his neck, and a ball cap with the peak pulled low over his eyes.

  I blow out a breath. Here we go.

  Suddenly, Hope spots the carousel and pulls me toward it.

  “Hope,” I say, stepping in front of her and bending to her level. “We need to meet Isaac first. Remember?”

  She nods, her chin tucked into her neck. “Yes, Momma. We’ll show him the fair. He’s not been to a fair for a really long time.”

  “That’s right, Sweet Pea.”

  I stand and meet Isaac’s stare, smiling at him in anticipation he smiles back because right now he looks a little frightening and a lot out of place. As we approach, I tense when Hope slides behind my leg to hide.

  “Hey.” He squats to greet her. “I’m Isaac.”

  Cautiously, she angles forward and with a finger in her mouth she says. “Momma said I need to show you the fair.”

  He nods. “That would be awesome.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a leather-stitched baseball, proudly displaying the SD Padres logo. “Here, your Momma said you’d lost yours.”

  She looks up at me and I nod.

  “Thank you,” she says, her small hand reaching out to the ball and Isaac’s little finger extending slightly so his skin touches hers. Their first touch as father and daughter.

  She places the ball under her chin, rolling it back and forth.

  “Do you like scary rides?” she asks, coming out from behind my leg.

  He looks up at me and I chuckle back at him, shrugging my shoulders. There’s no right or wrong answer.

  “Sure,” he says.

  “Good. So, do I.” Her hand slips out of mine and she tugs on his sleeve. “Come on, Isaac.”

  He stands, with a genuine smile on his face.

  “Hot in that are you?” I ask, referring to the hoodie he’s wearing on a day where the sky is cornflower blue and the sun is so hot it’s causing waves of heat to dance off the asphalt ahead.

  “Mmm,” he says, grabbing an opportunity to squeeze my backside, as he slides the hoodie down his arms.

  Hope’s first choice of ride is a dinosaur-themed rollercoaster. It’s meant for kids her age, but she insists Isaac rides with her.

  It’s the most hilarious thing I’ve ever seen. Isaac squished into a plastic-molded stegosaurus car. His knees up near his chin and an arm around Hope’s shoulders. Her squeals of delight as they bump around the track send a warm current to my heart.

  At the end of the ride, he lifts her out of the car and carries her to me. It’s a picture I want to freeze forever and a sight I thought I would never experience. A tear pricks in the corner of my eye.

  “Enjoy that?” I ask him, sardonically, handing his hoodie back to him.

  He laughs, placing Hope onto her feet and rubbing at his knees. “You need to come on the next one.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “Want cotton-candy?” I call across to Hope who has run off in the direction of the carousel.

  Isaac chases after her, before we lose her in the crowd.

  “Horses,” shouts Hope, taking Isaac’s hand and pulling him toward the carousel.

  Catching them both, I explain, “She loves horses. She should have been raised on a ranch, she’s obsessed by them.”

  “Maybe one day.” He winks, then picks Hope up and rushes her over to the carousel before it begins again.

  “Which one do you like the most?”

  She studies each of the horses for a while. “That one.” With an outstretched arm she points at a dappled gray, with a flowing white mane and tail. “And you can go on that one next to me. And Momma on the inside.”

  “Are you sure you want to go on your own? It’s faster at the outside.” The concern in my voice clear.

  Hope nods her head.

  “She’ll be fine. I’ll hold on to her,” Isaac says, hopping her onto the horse and tying his hoodie around his waist.

  The carousel operator strides over, takes one look at Isaac, then thinks better for stopping Hope from riding at the edge.

  Isaac’s broad hand holds her steady on the ride until it has glided to a stop, when he once again picks her up and carries her off. It’s as if she has lost the ability to walk and they are now forever joined.

  “Can I have cotton-candy now?” she asks Isaac.

  “Sure, Sweet Pea. What color?”

  My heart squeezes at the term of endearment he has used on Hope, and, at the same time as she says it, I mouth silently, “Blue.”

  “Great,” he says. “My favorite color.”

  I chuckle. Knowing she will have him eating as much as she does.

  We stand in line for the cotton-candy and Isaac eyes the funnel cake truck next to it.

  “Do you want me to get you some?” I ask him.

  His eyes light up like the teenager I once knew. “You know I can’t resist.”

  “Sugar and strawberry sauce?”

  His throat bobs and I know he’s recounting the same memory as me, of our first kiss over a plate laden with funnel cake at the top of a Ferris wheel. “You know me, Kitty.”

  I smile. Literally from ear to ear. “I’ll grab one while you get the cotton-candy.”

  When I come back with the wobbly plate, topped with Isaac’s favorite carnival food, it’s as I thought. “One for Isaac, one for me.” Hope stuffs small fistfuls of spun sugar into Isaac’s mouth; his lips stained blue with it.

  I laugh, the funnel cake sliding to the edge of the plate. I break a piece off for him and when he chews it, he smiles like a naughty boy.

  “This sugar’s gonna kill my training regime.”

  And for a moment I’d almost forgotten who he was and what he was about to do, and before I can shake my head of the image, Hope asks him, “Why do you have drawings all over your arms?”

  “They’re tattoos,” he answers.

  “Oh… Can I have a tattoo?” She cranes her neck so she can look beyond Isaac to me.

  “Sure thing. I’ll get you one now,” Isaac says, touching the end of her nose with a crooked finger.

  “What?” I squeal. My brain jellied by the scene of Isaac and Hope enjoying precious time together and only now catching up with what he’s promised her.

  He nods his head towards a booth selling hats, balloons, and fake tattoo transfers.

  “Oh.” I put a palm to my chest.

  He places her down in front of a display of transfer strips. “Here, what about this one?” Isaac points to a purple and pink fairy.

  Her lips press into a thin line and she shakes her head vehemently. I want that one. She points a small finger to the skull and crossbones.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Her word final.

  Isaac furrows his brows at me and mouths, “Sorry.”

  I laugh and shake my head in amusement. Of course she wants that one. “We’ll put it here, so it’s not on show when you go to school tomorrow.” I hold it against her upper arm.

  Her face drops.

  “You’ll have to wash it off tonight if you don’t.”

  She reluctantly agrees.

  By the end of the afternoon, and after the cotton-candy sugar-rush and adrenaline-induced rides, she’s pooped out. Isaac carries her back to my car, her head lolling sleepily on his shoulder.

  “Do you like puppies, Isaac?” she asks, her lips dragging on his shoulder.
Too tired to talk.

  “Yes. I do.”

  “I like puppies too.” She yawns.

  “I’ll get you a puppy for your birthday, if you like?” he says, without warning.

  I clench my teeth with the frustration of his promise.

  “Promise?” she whispers.

  “Yep. Promise.”

  Her eyes close and a huge smile sits on the back of his neck.

  Another promise Isaac Winters has made.

  “When can I see you again?” he asks, backing out of the front of the car. Hope now securely fastened and asleep in her booster seat in the back of the Porsche.

  I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  He pulls me into his arms. “Come to me tomorrow night. She’s got music class, hasn’t she?”

  I furrow my brow I don’t remember telling him. Maybe she did on the ride. “Okay.”

  He adjusts the peak of his ball cap. “Drive into the garage. And use the elevator like I showed you.”

  “What if you’ve got visitors?”

  “Don’t worry there’ll be no-one there from now on. I’m on a strict curfew, ready for the fight. Carlos won’t be anywhere near me. I have a routine. Early morning run, gym, sleep, then eat.”

  “Okay.”

  He lifts my chin. “We don’t have long Cate. The fight is on Saturday.”

  I blow out a breath. “I know and I’m not ready.”

  “We’ll meet tomorrow and finalize plans.”

  Finalize plans? My stomach twists into a knot of anxiety.

  “And until I know exactly when we can leave, carry on with your routine. Hope. Your parents. Your boss. Everyone… except him.”

  “Him?”

  “Nate.” His lips stick to his teeth in a cute look of jealousy.

  “Don’t worry about Nate. We’re done.”

  “Good, because I would have had to fix that issue too.”

  I scoff at him. “Yeah, right?” But my belly is on fire with his possessiveness. I’ve never experienced it before and, in a sick way, I like it. Someone who cares enough to want me for them. And only them.

  “Look, got to go.”

  He presses his mouth onto mine in a kiss which doesn’t last as long as I need it to, and then jogs off to the edge of the parking lot, through a line of trees and onto the street where a black SUV awaits him.

  I scout around the parking lot before ducking into my car, feeling nervous without him here. All the way home, I repeatedly check my rearview mirror for goodness knows what.

  After waking Hope from her nap, I wipe the blue stain from her mouth and we go to the backyard to play with the baseball Isaac gave her at the fairground.

  “Catch,” I shout.

  Shielding my eyes from the low afternoon sun, I watch Hope hold out her mitted hand to catch the baseball. She lets it drop to the floor when she notices the sleeve on her tee shuffle down her arm. She rips off the mitt so she can fold the hem back over to reveal her skull and cross bone tattoo.

  “When we gonna see Isaac again?” she asks, scurrying across to me so I can help fix her tee.

  I crouch in front of her and roll up her sleeve. “I’m not sure Sweet Pea. He’s real busy at work for the rest of next week.”

  “Oh, why didn’t he come back with us from the fairground?”

  I shrug. “He’s got stuff to do. Like Momma does on Sundays.”

  “He does ironing?” Her top lip curls as if she doesn’t approve.

  “Probably not.” I laugh at her. She hates domestic stuff as much as I do.

  She squidges her lips together in dismay. “Can’t he come for dinner? After work. Everyone has dinner?”

  I smile at the simplicity of her thought. Wouldn’t it be great if everything was as straightforward in life as a child makes it sound?

  I latch onto her Isaac colored eyes and kiss the button-end to her nose. “We’ll see. Maybe next week.”

  My heart squeezes at how next week everything will be different for her. Will having a father and being in a complete family unit be enough to take her from everything she knows?

  The wheels in her mind turn over at the thought of next week. A week is a long time to Hope.

  “When’s my birthday?” she asks.

  “Another couple of months. When you go back to school after the summer recess.” I realize what she’s getting at. A puppy. She’s linked Isaac’s promise of buying her a puppy for her birthday and continuing to see him again.

  It’s one thing I’ve always stayed true to. I’ve never broken a promise to Hope. Never. And it’s important no-one else does in her childhood. There’ll be plenty of opportunities for people to disappoint her when she’s older, but for now, I’ll make damn sure no-one breaks my daughter’s heart. Father or not.

  “Okay,” she says with a mouth which hardly opens, obviously not overly enthused with the answer. Then she trots back to retrieve the ball which has rolled under the bushes edging the back yard.

  “Come on, then.” I clap my hands together. “Last throw before bath and bed.”

  22

  Cate

  As I knuckle down into the working week, my mood swings from irritable with how selfish I’ve become, to walking on sugar-coated clouds. It’s killing me not being able to tell anyone my world will turn inside out and never look the same again. My stomach churns and my desire for a brief snatch of time with Isaac tonight grows.

  “Cate.”

  The cup of coffee I nurse, drops onto the counter with the interruption, sending a shower of the scalding liquid over my skirt and blouse.

  “Drat.” I bend awkwardly to try to separate the fabric from my skin.

  “Oh.” Tessa’s face drops. “You can’t come to court like that.”

  No shit?

  “I… I can run home. Get changed.”

  “There’s no time. I came to find you so we could do a run-through of our legal arguments. Elliot said you would be hiding in the kitchen.”

  I gasp. I’m sure he didn’t. Hiding? Who the hell would I be hiding from? Ruminating over the biggest change I will ever make to mine and Hope’s life. But not hiding.

  “We need to leave in thirty minutes. Judge Carmichael has asked for a pre-hearing in his chambers.”

  I grimace, not knowing what else to suggest. Take off my blouse and button my jacket? Fashion a new top from dish cloths and a staple gun? What do you expect me to do Tessa? You caused this issue. I hold out my arms in dismay and roll my lips.

  “Come with me. You must borrow clothes from my emergency closet.”

  “Emergency closet?”

  She doesn’t bother explaining, simply takes me to her office, where, in a corridor to her private bathroom, there’s a closet secreted behind wood paneling. I can’t believe all the time I’ve worked here, I’ve not known and it makes me wonder whether all the attorneys have such luxurious office arrangements.

  “Here.” She thrusts a beautifully cut, Prada suit into my arms. “You may be able to squeeze into that.”

  I nod toward her private bathroom. And she nods her agreement in return.

  The bathroom is typical Tessa. Sleek and expensive.

  There are a range of perfumes stacked on a glass shelf. None of them the average vaporizer type, all pure perfume in bottles which you use the stopper to dab on your pulse points. I run my finger along the edge of the shelf, a piece of my old self surfacing—the desire to be successful enough to make this my reality. My hand hovers over the Chanel No 5. But not for long. I can’t go out there smelling of her perfume. As much as I want to tell her to stuff her job and suit and to do it while daubed in her fragrance. I can’t.

  Isaac made me agree to tell no-one and to carry on until he knew exactly when we could leave. And it will be at least the day after the fight, if not early next week. So, having a huge bust-up with my boss right now won’t help.

  With shoulders pushed back, I emerge from the bathroom and join her in the office. Elliot comes in wheeling the file case
and almost falls over when he sees me in Tessa’s suit. He restricts his surprise to a slight kink of his mouth and a cock of his eyebrow. I’ll miss Elliot.

  Tessa lets out a large sigh. “Let’s go now.” As if she’s been waiting a while for me, and it was my fault. Makes me I wish I had washed in at least fifty dollars’ worth of Chanel No 5.

  Without a word, but an exchange of knowing looks, I take the handle of the case from Elliot and march off behind Tessa toward the elevator.

  It’s a short walk to the courtrooms, which is why this area is littered with attorney offices. I relish the looks we receive from passersby, who crane their necks at our determined pace in our expensive suits.

  Throughout the meeting with the judge I feel detached from the conversation. Struggling to keep my attention on a case I won’t see through to the end. Judge Carmichael’s point is well made. Why waste time on a hearing when an agreement is left on the table? Tessa and her advocate both turn their backs on each other. They’re too far gone in their waring minds to let this go.

  It’s not how I would have handled it and that makes me sad; to think I’m throwing away a career I know I could excel at.

  I wonder who they will replace me with. Elliot isn’t qualified yet and has only been with the firm seven months. The intern, is simply the intern, and as much as her career is bound to leapfrog mine, she’s not ready yet.

  Another thing to feel guilty about. Leaving my clients and the firm in the lurch.

  On our way to the courtroom, Tessa reels off the mental notes she’s made during our conversation and I quickly tap them into my phone with one hand while dragging the case with the other. The pre-meet will have surely wound the judge up and now everyone’s nerves will be ragged. Great. Any thoughts of having the last few working days taking it easy, have vaporized.

  The court hearing is adjourned after an hour, for lunch. I rush home to change my clothes and drop Tessa’s suit in at the dry cleaners. She wasn’t happy for me to wear it any longer than necessary.

  I could have sent Elliot but needed the break because recent events keep turning in my mind. Also, I didn’t want to give Elliot an opportunity to quiz me about the weekend. I might crack and tell him more than I should.

  Taking five minutes before I go back to work, I look around the house and what I’ll leave behind. None of it important, now I’ve decided I can’t live without Isaac and how he would make a great father for Hope. But there is still a niggle about the persona he has, Raul, who is dangerous and hangs around with men who kill.