Ink Slapped Read online

  I’m reeling from what he said. I can barely think straight. “Yes.”

  The harsh breath he expels makes me shiver when it hits my neck. “Please change them back. This probably sounds stupid, but the cover makes me feel closer to you.”

  I ignore the dipping in my stomach and the warming of my cheeks. My resolve is weakening. What is it with him? Why can’t he be like all the others? “Eli—”

  “Please. Just do it. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “Did you ever think I changed them because it makes me feel close to you, too?”

  He pulls back as if I burned him. “I know. I don’t deserve it, but if it’s all we have left…”

  All we have left. My eyes sting. I want to ask him if that’s true, but I’ll never make him choose me over his budding career. I’m not Madison. Gripping the table, I look down. “I’ll do it.”

  His shoulders sag as he blows out another breath and leans over to kiss my cheek, lingering and inhaling through his nose. “Thank you. You mean a lot to me, and you always will.”

  I stand and offer a smile. “I have to go.”

  “Of course.”

  Watching her run away as fast as she can breaks something else inside. I sit at the table for the next hour staring into space. I’ve eaten something and I’m not too sure what it was or even how much I ate. When I found out Madison sent Taylor those lawsuit papers, I admit a part of me thought Taylor threw me away to save her own ass. She was so cold and distant that day in her kitchen. But now, I know there’s more to it than that. I feel it.

  But what good does that do me? Everything’s so messed up.

  I should’ve told her Jaxon’s and Zara’s story ended perfectly. I should have told her I hate her new one, or rather, I hate the message it sends, but only because she wrote it, I love it, too. If she only knew how much she consumes my thoughts, but maybe it’s better this way—because in her mind, the other woman doesn’t win.

  I’m in my office a few days later going through budget numbers, order forms, and paying bills when Mick gives a short knock on the doorframe.

  “Hey, someone’s here.”

  “Will you take care of it for me? I’m kind of swamped here,” I say without looking up.

  “No. I mean, someone’s here, wanting to speak with you.”

  I frown. This is strange. Usually when someone wants to see me they’d walk through the shop. “Okay.” The word comes out slow, knowing it’s some kind of bill collector coming out of the woodwork now that I’m caught up on everything.

  He disappears and a minute later, Taylor stands in the door. My chair rolls back as I stand, shocked. She swallows. “I’m sorry for dropping in on you like this. I tried calling you, but—”

  My phone is nowhere in sight. “It’s out in the truck.” I lean on the desk. “What’s up?” That sounds a little too eager, but I can’t help it.

  Her face falls and contorts. I look at what she sees, and my heart constricts at our picture from my parents’ Halloween party. I pulled it out the other day after I finished reading Turmoil, got ugly drunk, and passed out on my office couch. She pinches the photo between her fingertips. It trembles a little before she puts it back down.

  “That’s a great picture,” she says. I don’t tell her it was the most memorable night of my life to date. “Anyway,” she goes on. “That’s what I’m here about. Pictures. I don’t have a cover for the sixth book to match all the old covers.”

  I can’t hear the rest since my heart pounds in my chest. “You want me to pose?”

  She blinks behind her glasses, nodding. “You’ll pose with Savannah. I’ll understand if you say no.” She stares at me like she hopes I’ll say no.

  “It’s the least I can do, since you’re changing them back.” I smile.

  “I’ll also pay you this time. I’ll call you soon.”

  As she walks out, I’m not too concerned about her business demeanor. I’ll call you soon echoes in my head.

  My voice rasps through the microphone as I sing about being ink slapped. Gripping the neck on my guitar, I strum the chorus C and A chords, up and down the fifth and sixth frets with my electric. Although the guys know what this song is about, it’s vague in its meaning. Anyone listening could conclude I long to get stoned off my ass. Leave it to Mick to drug me with brownies and Taylor to flip my entire world and out comes a song. I’ve written a few Taylor-inspired songs, but this one knocks the others out of the park. I’d like to keep the meaning that way for the time being.

  Marcus gestures with a hand through the glass window. We cut our instruments. “Excellent, man. Hang it a sec,” he says, his voice coming through the speakers. He messes with whatever he does in that little room before coming back on. “Ah’ight. Start from the beginning of the last chord. Crockett, try the lowest fret to pump up the thump. I want to see how it sounds.”

  We hate when he makes suggestions like that, but so far they haven’t steered us wrong and we usually like the sound better. Even if it’s just a little change, but of course, this was Marcus’ job. I twist my wrist to give it a little stretch and off we go. Crockett, being Crockett, changes Marcus’ suggestion by stomping the pedal. Marcus waves a hand again and disappears. A moment later, he walks into the room, stepping to the keyboard.

  After a little while of playing with the keys, he asks, “Eli, try the chorus.” I do as he says, and the melody coming out of the keyboard fits perfect with my distortion technique. He flashes a bright smile. “I’ve been thinking. Most of your songs could use keyboard interlude and step your music up to a higher level. Ever think about adding a fifth?”

  The band casts me curious looks, and I can’t help but think, once again, maybe Marcus is right.

  A few weeks later, I pull into the old industrial park. Taylor’s 4Runner is already there. Savannah poses as Taylor takes shots of her. It’s chilly, but at least the sun shines. I’m ready for warmer weather.

  Taylor doesn’t spare me a glance, but points to the open hatch. “Put everything on, would you?” Her wrist flicks towards the 4Runner. “Help him out, Gav.”

  I’m peeved watching the walking tattoo strut around the vehicle. He nods, pulling out Jaxon’s paraphernalia. I slip everything in place and reach to grab the huge club. Gav intercepts me with a clipboard—the image release forms I sign without reading. Obviously, because of Madison’s threat, Taylor has become diligent about legalities. She can Photoshop my face on a gorilla for a cowboy boot billboard on Broadway for all I care. Savannah waves as I make my way over to them.

  “Long time no see, Eli.” Her gaze switches from me to Taylor as she snakes her arm around my shoulder.

  “How are you?” I ask, remembering the last time I saw her, she was a blubbering mess for sleeping with Adrian. I’m not sure if her and Taylor have rekindled their friendship.

  “Good.” She glares forward at nothing. Taylor’s camera clicks several times in a row, and I figure out real quick it’s shoot time and mimic her pose. Savannah, however, keeps up the small talk. “You going to the convention?”

  The camera stops and Taylor’s own glare is loud and clear. “Savannah, I’m sure he doesn’t have time. No more talking.” She slices her hand at her mouth in a ‘shut up’ gesture before twirling her fingers. “Back to back.”

  Savannah spins, and before I know it, we are back to back. I swallow when she reaches laces her fingers in my belt. “What convention?” More snaps of the camera.

  Taylor sighs at my question, but Savannah answers. “A book convention. Having models of the characters help sell books.”

  Nodding, I remember Amy, Taylor’s PA, and how she reacted upon meeting me. I can see how models could bring in a few sales.

  For the rest of the time, I follow Taylor and Savannah’s lead and crack jokes to ease the tension. It pours off Taylor in waves.

  When she seems satisfied with the shots, she hands Savannah the clipboard and bends over in her hatch, inserting the memory card into her laptop.

>   Not realizing how close I am, she smacks into me. She grunts, spinning. Her eyes widen at my proximity as she sucks a red lollipop from her mouth. I watch the way her lips purse around it.

  I look away. Gavin is packing her tripod and other equipment. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” I say, trying to ease our awkwardness. She needs a beer or few. Several wrappers litter inside the hatch and I wave at them. “What’s with that?”

  Sticking the sucker back in her mouth, her cheek pops out and she shrugs. “Trying not to smoke.”

  “There’s gum for that,” I point out. Although, I’m sure she could distract me by blowing bubbles. Her fingers play with the stick as she pushes the candy out again. Nah, I think I like the lollipop just fine. Her eyebrows rise, but I change the subject. “When’s the convention?”

  “You’re busy.”

  “Don’t do that,” I say, a little miffed. More at the fact she drives me crazy than her evading my question.

  “Do what?” She makes a show of the lollipop—on purpose this time, giving me a peek of her tongue as it slowly goes in her mouth. Watching her suck it could only be more torturous if she was doing it naked.

  I shift my weight, resisting the urge to shift my junk. “Don’t do that either.”

  She pauses as if surprised I’d call her out on her succubus ways. A mischievous grin stretches across her face before she laughs. Just like that, her anxiety dissipates. Licking her lips, she wraps the half-eaten sucker in its wrapper. “The next one is the last weekend of March.”

  Savannah walks by, and I’m surprised to see she’s changed into scrubs. “You going?” I ask her.

  “No.” She smiles but keeps walking. Her tone is more than a little wry.

  Taylor sends her a look, and I grin at the both of them. “Savannah,” Taylor warns her.

  Savannah peeks at Gavin before looking at Taylor. “I’m just trying to make it right, Tay. I hope one day, you’ll forgive my stupidity.” She winks at me, sliding into her Acura. The sly woman.

  “I think I’m liking her,” I say, still grinning at Taylor as Gav appears to load her 4Runner.

  “She’s available, I think,” he says, obviously unaware of… everything. Taylor’s face falls. What a daft moron. Maybe Taylor’s mom should have dubbed Gavin The Dolt.

  Blow Pop syrup stirs in my stomach at the thought of Eli and Savannah.

  His reply is quick. “Not like that.” Eli’s tone is dry, but Gavin doesn’t notice as he shifts things in the back of my car to make room. Eli grabs the tripod to stop it from toppling out of his arm.

  Gavin loads my camera bag and takes the tripod back. “Why not, man? She’s hot enough.”

  Eli looks at Gavin as if he’s the most idiotic person in the world before choosing to ignore him. His gaze turns to me. “The convention?”

  He’s adamant, but I know for sure he has plans that weekend. Tainted District was chosen to present an award and perform live at an independent music awards festival. I know because Crockett was going to ride to Atlanta with me, but we’d have to leave late that night, so he bailed.

  “The last weekend in March,” I repeat, but he shows no signs of recognition. How the hell can he forget something like that? Gavin jiggles my keys, gives them to me, and walks around to the passenger’s side. I guess that’s an indication he’s ready to go.

  “Won’t be a problem.” Eli shuts my hatch and leans down to murmur in my ear. “You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

  I smile. “So do you.”

  Running his hands through his hair, he blasts me with a mirthless scowl. It’s a long moment before he sighs, looking to the distance. “I’ll call you to work out the details.” He turns to walk away but pauses. “Tonight.”

  “Oh good. You can wear a loincloth. That should draw attention to my booth.”

  His mouth opens and shuts, no doubt remembering Jaxon’s loincloth scene in the last book. Maybe he’ll have enough sense to back out. He’s somewhat modest, compared to most men with his body type, so he surprises me when he nods. “You’re on.” His smile never leaves his face as he gets into his truck.

  I watch him drive off. Damn. Not only would I to have to buy a loincloth and deal with grabby women, but I’d have to watch him for two days strutting around in it. No way. I wouldn’t last the weekend. Taking my cellphone from my back pocket, I think about telling him I was kidding, but decide not to. I’ll let him stew over it for a few days.

  John, Eli’s dad, opens the door to their quaint country home with a big grin and takes the huge board off my hands. He looks at it and the smile falls. “Gina wanted it this big?”

  I nod as he invites me in with a wave of his hand. “I wanted it huge,” Gina yells from the kitchen right before she makes her appearance. She claps her hands, scurrying over. I got just as excited when I first saw it although for a different reason. I glance at the decorated house as she looks at Eli’s enlarged face. Streamers and balloons adorn every available space. “Thank you, Taylor.” Gina smiles. “I hope you’ll reconsider joining us?”

  Shaking my head, I smile through my sadness. After the past few weeks, our friendship is back on a good level. It still has boundaries I don’t want to cross, or else things will get deep again. Attending a surprise party for him would toe the line, especially with Madison there. “I have edits to do. I finally got Crockett off my back about it, so…” I wave at the door as non-awkwardly as I can.

  Gina seems conflicted as if she wants to insist my presence and wants me to get my next book out at the same time. “Oh. Could you do me a favor?”

  “Sure,” I say, wondering what she’ll have me do. She wanders to the kitchen and returns with a lunchbox.

  “I would get this to him, but I’m tied up here.”

  I freeze. “You want me to take that to Eli?” She nods, handing his lunch to me. Even though, we’ve talked and texted, I haven’t seen him since the photo shoot.

  “He’s at the shop. Milo should keep him there until it’s time.”

  “Yeah, sure.” I say my goodbyes and instead of walking to my car, I go to the carport and climb the stairs. When I open the door to the garage apartment, the bed is tidy with fresh linens. The smell of fabric softener infuses the room. I try not to wonder about Eli and Madison sleeping here tonight, but instead set a small box with a bow on the little bedside table. I don’t care who he thinks might’ve left it here. For all I know, Madison might even take credit for it. But all that matters is that he has it. Glancing over to the wall, I notice a piece of poster is ripped at the top. That night seems like ages ago. With a sigh, I leave the room.

  It’s not until I’m halfway there, I realize I have no excuse to be at his parent’s house to begin with and my mouth becomes dry. “Shit.” I’m terrible at keeping secrets. I step on the gas, hoping to get this over with.

  By the time I pull in the auto shop’s parking lot, I have a good excuse about designing John a website. He’s mentioned it before to Crockett. I haven’t had time or talked to him about it.

  All the garage doors are shut, but it’s probably to keep out the chill. The waft of petroleum and rubber relaxes me. I’ll forever associate the strong smell with Eli. He has his head stuck under a hood. The garage is quiet of music and air compressors. I shake my hand, blowing out a breath. Hearing it, he pops up—his t-shirt smudged with grease. Half his hair is out of his face in a little bun—just like last Halloween, just like Jaxon. I want to fix a piece hanging from his face as if he accidentally left it out.

  “Taylor.” His whole face brightens as he wipes his hands with an even dirtier shop rag. My heart beats a little faster. How can my blood pressure not spike when he looks at me like that as if I made his day by walking in?

  I return his smile. “Where’s Milo?”

  He sighs. “For a minute there I thought you came to see me.”

  “I did.”

  He grins. “So you’re wondering if we’re alone?” I laugh and shrug. His gaze rakes my body. “It’s good t
o see you. You look good.”

  With a glance at my jeans and pea coat, I know he means it. I could dress in a potato sack and he’d think the same thing. “So do you.” Even dirty, he does. Especially dirty. “I brought lunch.” I show him the lunchbox and he smiles wider.

  “You’re in on it, too? That makes my night.”

  “What do you mean?”

  His eyes narrow and he takes the lunchbox from me. “My surprise party? That’s why Milo isn’t here. I sent him on errands so he’d stop hovering. No one is acting normal, so it doesn’t take a genius to know what they’re doing, but you’re coming?”

  I’m not surprised he knows about it. He’s an extraordinarily observant guy—a quality I adore about him. I shake my head. “I have plans. I’m just dropping this off.” From the look on his face, he might know the real reason. In fact, for three weeks he’s avoided talking about Madison or his music and I haven’t asked.

  He grabs my arm. “Nope. Come on, and I’ll share it with you.”

  We walk into the shop office. He takes a detour to scrub his arms and hands in the bathroom with that orange soap—the smell permeates into his office. My gaze flies straight to our picture, still sitting front and center on the desk. When he comes out, he has on a long-sleeved shirt.

  “I’m not going to eat your food, Eli.”

  He helps me out of my coat, draping it on the desk chair. “My mom sent it, right?” he asks, plopping on the couch and opening the lunchbox.

  “What does that have to do with—” I shut my mouth when he pulls two sandwiches and two apples from the pouch.