Inked in the Music

by Kitt Rose

  “You’re an owner?”

  “One-third. Ty, Hank, and me.” I flipped open my menu and spun it on the table to face Z. Tapping a finger on one specific item, I winked. “And the reason I brought you here, blueberry waffles with blueberry compote and lemon cream. A breakfast fit for the prettiest Blueberry Bandit in the whole world.”

  Zirah’s face turned a lovely shade of pink and she smiled, her dimples making a welcome appearance. “That sounds amazing.”

  “It is. I’m going to get it, with a side of sausage links because”—I curled my arm—“I am a man. Need protein.”

  One eyebrow climbed her forehead as Z’s smile turned sly. “Or, maybe you just really like … sausage.”

  I blinked at her before the laugh roared out of me. “Holy shit, did I walk into it or what?”

  Z’s mouth opened and she started to speak.

  “Dennis!” said a familiar voice.

  I turned to greet our waitress. “Hey. Good morning.”

  Charity, wearing her orangish-yellow uniform and frilly white apron, patted my shoulder. “Haven’t seen you around for a while.”

  I shrugged. “Been busy.”

  “I’ll hav’ta tell Ella I saw ya. She’s been asking about ya, ya know?” Charity shifted her hips and leaned closer, darting a glance at Zirah. Lowering her voice enough to sound conspiratorial, she said, “She misses ya.”

  My smile faltered. “Charity, this is my girlfriend Z.”

  Charity’s eyes narrowed. “Girlfriend? Well, isn’t that nice?” She slid her gaze to Z, who shifted uncomfortably in the seat. “Ain’t you cute. Don’t think I’ve seen you around.”

  Z shook her head, a brittle expression on her face—not quite a smile but not a frown either. Some amalgamation of the two.

  “Are you ready to order, Z?” I asked, trying to end the conversation that was speeding toward disaster.

  “Yeah,” she said in a quiet, clipped voice.

  Charity slipped her order pad from a pocket and clicked her pen rapidly before setting it to the paper. “What can I get ya?”

  I nodded to Z and she ordered the waffle I’d suggested with a side of bacon and a coffee. I placed my order and breathed an internal sigh of relief when Charity left.

  Reaching across the table, I took Z’s hand. “Sorry about that. Charity is a little overbearing.”

  “A little?” Z said. “More like a lot. I take it she was friends with your … um, with Ella?”

  “They’re like second-cousins or something. They actually can’t stand each other.”

  Z shifted her hand, rolling it to thread her fingers through mine. Her thumb drew circles over my palm, and I shuddered. Why did that feel so good?

  “Seems like she likes her just fine based on the not-so-subtle snub she gave me. Um, do you still talk to Ella?” The circles got tighter, her finger moving faster over my skin.

  I covered her hand with my free one so that hers was sandwiched between mine. Her eyes darted to mine, wide and searching. It felt like I could see into her soul, uncover every vulnerability and hidden places inside. Every emotion laid out clear for the taking. Right now, insecurity and maybe a little fear blazed in them.

  Shaking my head, I leaned forward. “No. Ella and I parted on good terms, but we don’t talk. If we run into each other, we’re friendly. I call her a friend because she knows that if she ever got into trouble and needed help, I’d give it to her. But she also knows that we’re over. Done. Finito. You have nothing to worry about. Have I ever given you a reason to doubt that I want to be with you?”

  Blunt teeth caught her lower lip and she shook her head.

  The motion was too tentative for my taste. I reached up and tugged her lip free, running my finger over the soft, pink flesh. “Babe, you got me. I ain’t going nowhere. You’re worth a thousand Ellas.”

  Her gaze lowered as her cheeks warmed. “I’m sorry. I just can’t believe that you’re with me sometimes. I mean, we couldn’t be more different.”

  “Really? So you hate reading?” I asked, frustrated.

  “No—”

  “And you obviously hate classical music, especially violin,” I said, interrupting her.

  “That’s not—”

  “And we never had fun together.”

  “Darn it, that’s not what I mean,” she cried, tugging her hand free.

  “Really? But you just said we were different. If you don’t mean that, do you mean because I’m not white?” I was being a bastard. I knew I was.

  “Dennis.” Her voice was pained.

  “Zirah,” I taunted. I was the world’s biggest asshole.

  She closed her eyes, face scrunching. “I don’t mean it like that, and you know it.”

  Those beautiful eyes flew open, moisture gleaming. Guilt flashed through me as she said, “I don’t care about the color of your skin, and if I ever gave you a reason to think that, I’m so sorry. I think you’re beautiful. All I meant is that you’re … I don’t know, worldly? You own a business. You’re cool, with tattoos and stuff. And you’re more experienced in just about everything. That’s all I meant. I’m stupid sometimes, and insecure, and I’m sorry.”

  Now I really felt like a dick. She shouldn’t be apologizing. She should tell me I was an ass for losing my temper.

  I opened my mouth to tell her that when Charity brought our coffees. The waitress glanced between us, obviously noting the tension, and set about pouring two coffees from a brown carafe. Z studied the tabletop. I stared at her, anxious for Charity to leave so I could apologize or something.

  “Food’ll be right out,” Charity finally said and then left.

  “I’m sorry,” I said immediately. “I was being an asshole. It frustrates me to hear you belittle yourself. To doubt me. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

  She met my gaze. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. And you need to tell me I’m an ass. Hell, tell me to go fuck myself if I lose my temper.”

  Zirah flinched. “I—”

  I saw the apology in her eyes. “Don’t you dare apologize for me being a dick. You spent most of your life apologizing for other people. I admire the hell out of you, Z, but one thing you gotta get down is that you are only responsible for yourself. Other people’s shit isn’t on you. Own your actions and let others sink or swim on their own. Including and especially the people you care about. They—I—should know better.”

  “I’ll try,” she whispered.

  “It’s not your fault I lost my temper. That’s all me. I own it. You shouldn’t.” I took her hand and brought it to my mouth, dragging my lips over her knuckles. “But you should know that I’m fucking crazy about you. You never need to worry about how I feel. Just ask and I’ll tell you.”

  She reversed her hand, twining her fingers in mine again as she lowered her arm to the table. “I like holding your hand,” she said. “Even if you were being a—a douche nozzle.”

  I threw back my head and laughed, shaking my head. “Douche nozzle? Babe, you gotta stop hanging out with Trina. And, I like holding your hand too.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Betrayal

  Zirah

  Saturday, November 14th

  Nearly three weeks had gone by and my brother was still in town. We’d gotten him into a furnished efficiency that was rented by the month. He’d taken a job as a dishwasher at the restaurant across the street and a second job at the grocery store stocking shelves overnight. It wasn’t much, but I was proud of him. I was also starting to wonder if he was hanging around hoping I would change my mind and come home with him. It wouldn’t happen, but it was nice to have him here. Especially now that he wasn’t after me for money or a place to stay.

  I got off work at five today and headed home, stopping into Ink’d to say hi to everyone. Joey was there with Owen. He clung to her pant leg and I crouched in front of him. “Hi, Owen. My name’s Z. What do you have there? Is that an elephant?”

  He peeked out a little more and h
eld out the gray stuffed animal. I took it and made my best elephant noise—which was pretty impressive. He giggled and came over to me, climbing into my lap and patting my cheeks. I took it as a silent request and puffed my cheeks out again, repeating the trumpeting noise.

  I kind of lost track of what was going on around me as I played with the little boy. We played peek-a-boo with the elephant, patty-cake, tickle war, and a bunch of other silliness.

  “You’re great with him.” Joey’s voice made me jump.

  I’d been so involved in playing with Owen. I stood up, Owen immediately asking me to pick him up with the universal request gesture of raised arms. I did as bid, cuddling the toddler close. “He’s adorable. And such a happy little guy.”

  “Thanks. We like him. Do you babysit?”

  “Oh! Yes, I’d love to! Did you have a time in mind? Or just in general?”

  “In general. My brother and his wife watch him for me now, but she’s pregnant and due next month. It’s getting to be a little much with the other two kids. I mainly need someone the days I’m dancing. Would you be able to watch him next Saturday? I can drop him off at your apartment and pick him up when I’m done.”

  “Yeah. Sure. That’d be great! Do you want to hang out with me next weekend, Owen?”

  The little boy nodded, eyes big, and I grinned. “Awesome! It’s a date then.”

  “Hey now, you moving in on my girlfriend?” Dennis appeared behind me, slinging an arm around my neck to ruffle Owen’s dark hair. The little boy immediately held his arms out to Dennis and I passed him over. Once he had Owen, he dropped a quick kiss on my forehead then tossed Owen into the air.

  “Ah, now I see why I was snubbed,” I said as Owen squealed with delight.

  “Don’t feel bad, even I get snubbed for Uncle Dennis. So I’ll drop him off next Saturday at eight. Does that work?”

  I nodded, a big smile on my face at the prospect.

  “Awesome. Hey! Are you coming tonight?”

  “Um… Where?” I asked, confused.

  “Phini, I haven’t had time to talk to her yet. You hijacked her with your spawn the minute she walked in,” Dennis said, passing Owen off to her. “Ty, I’m going to step outside a minute. Be right back.” Dropping a hand to my lower back, he steered me outside and around the corner to the shadow of the stairs leading to the apartments.

  “What—” I started.

  He jerked me to his body, covering my mouth with his. His hands clutched me closer, into his warmth and solid presence. I sought out smooth skin, slipping a hand under the back of his shirt. A happy sigh escaped as he cupped the back of my head, his thumb tracing the shell of my ear. When he finally pulled back, I was breathless and a little dazed.

  “Wow,” I breathed.

  He chuckled, pressing his forehead to mine. “How are you?”

  “Better now.” A smile curled one side of my mouth. “So where am I going tonight?”

  He wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, looking at his feet. “Oh, uh. Phini wanted to go out. It’s Hank’s birthday, so tonight we’re going dancing at a club in town. I know you said you don’t dance, but I’d like it if you’d come out. Maybe plan on staying over tonight?”

  Anticipation curled through my belly, warm and languid. Lately, our schedules hadn’t lined up and hurried meals and texts were about all we’d gotten. My body missed him. I missed him, falling asleep next to him, exhausted and sated. “I don’t dance. But I’d like to see you and if that’s what you’re doing, then I’ll come with. And I’d really like to stay over. I’ve missed being with you.”

  A smile grew on his face. “Yeah? Well, I’ve missed being with you too. Being inside you.”

  Now I blushed.

  “And I’ve missed that blush.”

  “I’ve missed you in me too.” Heat blasted down my neck when I said the words, but I sure meant them. I pressed myself against him and stretched up as far as I could, speaking softly. “I’ve missed the way your skin feels against mine. The warmth of your body.”

  “Shit. You’re turning this around on me now.” He groaned, his hands coming down to cup my butt and press me into the stirrings of an erection. “I’ll come get you when I get off?”

  I nodded and stepped away. He let me go reluctantly, kissing me briefly. Far too briefly.

  “See you in a few hours,” I said.

  He picked me up just before nine, having been stuck with a last-minute customer who took longer than expected. I packed my backpack for an overnight at his house. Never having been to a club, I wasn’t sure what to wear. I’d dug out a pair of skinny jeans and a tight t-shirt in a pretty pale blue. I’d attempted makeup and did a fair job at the mascara and blush but hadn’t been brave enough for the eyeliner or shadow. Still, I felt like I looked good.

  Dennis drove us to his house, and we left his car in the drive. He lived within walking distance and this way, he didn’t have to worry about leaving his car at the club and we could take a cab, hitch a ride with one of the group, or walk home.

  When we got inside the club, I realized I’d made a mistake in my outfit. I was seriously underdressed and underdone. Joey wore a short dress that bared her whole back. She looked so glamorous, like she’d stepped off the cover of a magazine. Trina always wore over-the-top outfits, but this one was a step beyond. She had on a white leather skirt and a halter top. The combination showed so much skin I was a little uncomfortable even looking at her. And the other girls there were just as done up. We had a booth halfway between the bar and the dancefloor and I quickly slid into one seat in the back, crossing my arms over my middle.

  I didn’t belong here. Even without the gross failure in my wardrobe, the music was strange and unfamiliar. Everywhere I looked, people were drinking. A guy stood on the bar and poured alcohol directly into girls’ mouths. And there was a couple on the dancefloor about two seconds away from dropping to the floor and giving everyone a show.

  I hunched in on myself, trying to shrink into the booth.

  Dennis noticed, sliding in next to me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and his lips brushed my ear, causing me to shiver. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m way underdressed. I stick out like a sore thumb,” I said, embarrassed by how much it bothered me.

  Dennis shrugged. “I think you look great. Don’t mind Phini and Trina, they both look for any excuse to get all…” He made a motion with his hand, flicking it in their direction. He brushed his lips along my temple, and I felt a little better. “I like that you don’t have to spend hours getting ready. I like that I can touch your face and feel your skin.”

  And he did just that. He ran his fingertips lightly over my cheek.

  I turned my face into his touch. The tightness in my chest eased and my shoulders straightened. I tipped my chin up as bravery flashed through my veins, chasing a longing to touch him. To claim him.

  So I did.

  I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled his mouth down to mine. The kiss burned with need. My fingers tingled as my breath came faster. I tunneled them into his hair, kissing him deeply, with perhaps a little more tongue than appropriate for public. But the low lights and the combination of his hair and mine created a privacy screen.

  When I pulled back, his breath was rapid and rough. Color spread over his cheeks and his eyes were heavy-lidded, telling me he was just as affected. That I affected him. I smiled up at him, feeling better and better.

  He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and tucked me tight to his side. Hank dropped into the booth opposite us and they struck up a conversation. Joey swung by, setting a dark-pink drink in front of me. She winked and disappeared into the throng of people on the dancefloor.

  For a while, I reclined into the seat, sipping my vodka and cranberry as I people watched. Slowly, I relaxed. In the crush of people, no one noticed me. Heck, no one even looked sideways at Trina’s outfit.

  A while later, Dennis coaxed me onto the dancefloor. I knew that he could dance. Dennis
had told me he’d taken ballroom dancing classes with Joey. It wasn’t rocket science to assume he would be good at other types of dancing. But watching him move amazed me. He made it seem effortless. Somehow, he even made it fun for me to sway with him.

  Until the music changed to something faster. I slipped out of his grasp, assuring him I was fine and that he should keep dancing.

  I’d be fine on my own for a little while. After all, I was an adult and could sit by myself. Alone at the table nursing my drink, I felt horribly out of place until Trina sat down next to me. We watched Joey and Dennis dance together, moving across the floor gracefully. They looked like they’d be at home in a dance competition, with the costumes and spotlights.

  “Show offs,” Trina muttered, grabbing a beer from the table and taking a long drink.

  I turned. There was something in her face. The effervescent energy usually present was dull and flat. “Are you okay?”

  She shrugged. “Hank and I had a fight. He’s being an ass.”

  “I’m sorry.” I was unsure what else to say. She saved me from having to figure it out when she launched into the details on her own.

  “We’ve been together for years. I mean, this time it’s been like a year and a half, but we were on again off again for four years before that. He’s thirty now and I’m just about. I want to get married, or at least engaged. But he keeps getting all weird every time I bring it up. And then today he’s just straight-out being a dick.” She dropped her head into her hands, and I patted her back somewhat awkwardly. “I love his big dumb ass to pieces but something’s going on. What if he’s breaking up with me again?” Tears filled her eyes and I hurriedly hugged her.

  “Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry. But has he said anything that would make you think he wanted to break up? I mean, what did he do before?”

  She pulled back and wiped at her eyes, seeming thoughtful. “The last couple times we broke up, we were fighting a lot and he’s just been kind of … weird and quiet. Hank’s not quiet with me. So I guess he hasn’t really said anything, but something is definitely going on.”