Daddy Ink

by Ali Lyda

  My blood went cold. “He’s been calling my mom and Mason, but I haven’t been on social media for anything but work.” I swallowed hard, afraid to ask but needing to know. “What’s he doing?”

  Christian pulled out his phone and pulled up his various accounts. “I stayed connected with him because I was afraid something like this would happen. Take a look for yourself.”

  With that, he handed over his phone so I could scroll through and survey the damage.

  It was bad.

  Kyle was posting publicly that I was refusing to let him see his daughter. He put out sob story after sob story about how broken he was without her, and how fucked up it was that I was keeping her from him. At times he likened it to kidnapping. On top of all that, he also mentioned Javi. The things he called Javi… they went beyond nasty. They were bigoted and implied that I was allowing a criminal to be alone with Giuliana—that I was putting her in danger. That Javi was putting her in danger.

  Post after post.

  Lie after lie.

  Those who knew me were quick to tell Kyle off. But Kyle’s extended network, the ones who didn’t know me or our situation well, were liking. Commenting. Helping his posts gain traction and visibility.

  If this got to Javi, I worried it would devastate him. He’d told me about how delicate his self-esteem was, and if he saw this? It could crush him. Worse, with Javi’s past, it terrified me to think the lies could get him into trouble. His tattoo work was only growing, but what if this put a damper on how many clients he got? What if it affected his ability to volunteer at the center? What if my past stole all of the things that were precious in Javi’s present?

  Dark anger stormed in me. It blackened any remaining feelings I might have had for Kyle, erasing all of the good memories. I’d loved this man, and he was spending an exorbitant amount of energy trying to ruin my life. Not only that, but he was trying to hurt someone I wanted to love and cherish.

  “Why haven’t you done anything about this?” Christian asked as he took his phone back.

  I exploded. “You think I haven’t? I’ve told him over and over we’re through. I didn’t know about the social media shit. I can’t fucking believe him!”

  “Kyle needs to be shut down, but you’ll have to be careful, Gordo. If things get out of control, you don’t know what he might be willing to do to bring you down—what other ways he might try to get at Giuliana.”

  I stood up so fast my chair fell down, hitting the floor with a sharp crack. Giuliana jerked, startled, and then began to cry. Inky, oily thoughts about Kyle were still there, but her wails helped me to tamp down the most fiery parts of my anger.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” I crooned as I scooped her up. “I’m just feeling bitter and overwhelmed. You’re still my sweet, sweet girl, and I’m going to fix this. Christian, will you help me with some research?”

  I’d picked the coffee shop as a neutral meeting place. It was busy, I knew the baristas, and most of all, I didn’t want Kyle anywhere near my home or daughter—or Javi.

  When he came in, smile slick, I struggled to keep myself reined in. He slid into a chair next to mine, trying to make our knees touch. I pointedly got up and moved to the chair across from him, and Kyle pouted but didn’t move.

  He eyed my coffee. “I wanted to buy that.” As if buying my latte would somehow buy my forgiveness. “Where’s Giuliana?”

  “Not here. This is a conversation for you, and you alone,” I said, my voice flat.

  “I’d hoped to see her,” he said, pleading and gentle. “She’s gotten so big...and I know I missed all of it. I can’t take that back. But there’s still so much I don’t want to miss, like her first steps and when she calls me dada for the first time.”

  I knew he was trying to play up that he cared about her—but if he cared about her, he never would have made the myriad of bad choices he’d made. And the thought of her calling him dada made me want to vomit.

  “You are never going to see her again, Kyle. She’s not your daughter. You left before you could sign adoption papers. You left before you could help pay for the in vitro services that helped the surrogate conceive her. You didn’t help pay for the hospital bills, or the diapers, or the formula, or the one hundred fucking toys and baby items around the house.”

  Kyle sat up straighter. “If this is about money—”

  But I didn’t let him go further. “You weren’t there when she woke up every two hours. You weren’t there to take care of her when all I wanted was a shower and five minutes to myself. You weren’t there for her first trip to the hospital, or her first smile, her first tooth, when she was finally able to sit up on her own.”

  I planted my hands on the table and leaned forward.

  “Do you see where I’m going with this? You are not her father and you have no fucking rights to her, and if you continue to lie on the internet about your relationship with her, I. Will. Ruin you.”

  It felt good to go full Papa Bear mode. There was no more patient, peaceful Gordo. I wasn’t going to try and talk this through and come out with wrinkles smoothed. I was going to scorch the earth between Kyle and me, and then I was going to salt it.

  “This feels like overkill, Gordo. You’ve never talked to me like this before,” Kyle said. He sounded genuinely surprised, and maybe he was, because it was true—I’d never spoken up to him with this level of anger, even at our worst. But he was threatening those I loved and I wouldn’t roll over this time. “I get that I hurt you, and badly. I really do, and that is on me, and it will take forever to make it up. But I can try forever if it means having you and Giuliana in my life.”

  “No.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Are you really happy dating a thug? Someone who looks like he stepped out of prison yesterday?”

  “Javi has been the best thing to happen to me since Giuliana. I don’t owe you all of the reasons why, but you should hear that and understand it: He makes me happy. I’m in love with him, and if I have it my way, he’ll be in my life forever. If he agrees, Javi will be Giuliana’s father, and he’ll be the best damned father a child could wish for.”

  Kyle rocked back like I’d slapped him. I knew his ego was more fragile than he let on, and this was a hard hit. “How am I supposed to just walk away from you?”

  “Just like you did before. Only this time it will be for good. No more calls. No more texts. No slander and harassment. I don’t want to take legal action against you, but believe me—I will. In a heartbeat, if it means protecting my family—and Javi is my family, too.”

  All of his swagger melted away. Kyle’s shoulders slumped and he curled in on himself. There were tears in his eyes, and I didn’t think they were just for show.

  “I’ve never lost anything before,” Kyle admitted. “But I’ve been seeing this therapist. You told me I needed one years and years ago, and I should have listened. He’s helped me to see how selfish and childish I was when I left you. I just… at the end of the day, it’s always been you for me, Gordo. And I’ve wronged you and Giuliana, but God, I love you so fucking much it hurts.”

  Some of the ice in me thawed. When Kyle was being authentic, he was charismatic and addictive. It’s why I’d stayed in love with him for six years of marriage. Knowing he was seeing a therapist was huge, too. He’d always refused before, but this sounded like he was actually making some steps in the right direction.

  When I didn’t say anything, Kyle must have taken it as an opportunity. He leaned across the table and cupped my face between his hands. “I can be in this for the long haul. I can love you and her forever. I want to.”

  My eyes closed, shutting me away from the familiar feel of his skin on mind. My heart was breaking because ultimately, villainous behavior or not, Kyle had been my husband. And in a way, without him, I’d never have Giuliana. It had been his prompting about a baby that had started my journey into being a parent. For that I would always owe a debt of gratitude to him.

  But things were too broken to repair. Too li
ttle, too late. And I didn’t want to, even if I could, because all I wanted was Javi.

  I started to tell Kyle that this was our last goodbye, but a noise stopped me. It was a familiar voice, just outside the window of the coffee house we were seated near.

  Reagan. And he was yelling, “Javi! Javi! Stop!”

  Jerking out of Kyle’s reach, I stared in horror out the window. Reagan was shouting after a familiar back, running away from us. My heart lurched into my throat, and I thought I was going to be sick. Javi.

  I launched out of my seat and ran out of the shop, but Javi was so far away. When I turned to Reagan, the words I wanted to say dried up before they could come out. Because Reagan was glaring at me like he was going to murder me where I stood.

  24

  Javi

  The pain. Oh, God, the fucking pain I was feeling. What had I just seen? How… how could he do this to me? It was one thing for him to ask for space, but meeting up with Kyle and looking so, so comfortable with him? It eviscerated me, and so I ran without purpose, other than to put distance between me and what I’d seen.

  Stupid. I’d been so fucking stupid for thinking that I could have something with Gordo. That the way he said he felt about me had been real. I’d known better than to believe someone could love me like that, and I should never have forgotten it.

  “Javi!” Gordo’s voice sliced through the haze, but I didn't stop. It was like I was the same lost little boy again that I’d been so many years ago. Rejected, kicked to the curb. Unwanted and abandoned.

  When a hand grabbed at my elbow, I knew Gordo had caught up to me. “Wait! Please! Just listen to me, Javi.”

  There were more footsteps, and I saw Reagan and Kyle running toward us. My body seized, the stress like ropes tightening all around me until I was too constricted to breathe. “D-d-don’t you d-dare t-try to t-tell me I d-d-didn’t—”

  But I couldn’t finish. My mouth was no longer my own. It was useless, my words trapped inside of me to fester. Would I ever be able to just say what I needed to?

  Laughter, unexpected and cruel, rang out. Kyle pointed, “Oh, Jesus, Gordo. I thought you’d left me for a thug, but you actually just left me for some stupid reta—”

  I didn’t even know I was moving before I felt the crack of Kyle’s jaw under my fist. My heart, black and smoldering, rejoiced at the whumph of his body hitting the ground. I jumped on him, fists raining down, my hurt wielding my body like a puppet. Or a weapon.

  Strong hands pulled me off. I was wild then, thrashing to get to Kyle.

  “Javi!” Reagan shouted. “Javi! Stop, for Chrissakes!” He shook me hard, hard enough I bit my tongue, and the pain stilled me. “Good,” Reagan whispered, pulling me into a protective embrace. “Good. Calm down.”

  I wasn’t too proud to bury my face in Reagan’s chest and release an anguished sob. My knuckles hurt, and I knew I’d split some of the skin. Fuck. Fuck! It had been so many years since I’d reacted with my fists. I thought I’d put that kind of violence behind me, but this was just like that time when I was younger, when anger guided me instead of maturity and common sense, and suddenly I was scared, so scared, that I’d gone too far. Just like the last time.

  I shook as I dared to look at Kyle.

  The man was on the ground, groaning, but he didn’t look terrible. Just bruised and angry. What hooked my attention most, though, wasn’t Kyle. It was Gordo, kneeling next to the bastard, reaching out to help him.

  And it was the final straw. I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t be stuck in Gordo’s web, available for him whenever he wanted a sure thing and discarded as soon as something better came along. My heart was shredded beyond repair—and that was a good thing, because I refused to try and survive any more hurt after this.

  “Can I stay with you for a while?” I asked Reagan, turning my back on Gordo and Kyle. “I don’t want to go home.”

  “Of course,” Reagan said, putting a protective arm around my shoulders and leading me away. “I don’t want you to be alone.”

  But he was wrong. I was alone now, and it was for the best.

  I didn’t go into the shop much. I knew that Reagan had explained to everyone what had happened, and they were careful to give me space. But knowing the documentary was going to start filming soon gave me something to focus on, and I threw myself into my designs.

  Normally, I tried to keep everything crisp, the colors bright and the designs clear. But I let my heart guide my hand, and the stuff I was churning out was jagged and dark, an edgy fever dream of despair.

  “Those are, uh, a new turn for you,” Reagan said over my shoulder. I was at his dining room table, surrounded by sketches. “Do you think you’re ready to talk about it?”

  Setting down my pen, I turned to him to sign. Speaking was just… it was too much of an effort for me right now. “I don’t need to talk about it. It’s over and done and I’m moving on. Lesson learned.”

  He frowned. “Bottling up your feelings isn’t good, Javi. You’re too smart for this.”

  “No. I was stupid to take a chance. I knew better.”

  He sighed like I was being a child, and for once, I really hated him. It was just a blip, and it scared me, but I couldn’t stand being treated like I didn’t know myself.

  “Javi,” he said as he scrubbed a hand over the red stubble on his jaw, “You’re hurting. And for a damned good reason, too. But what we saw… I don’t think it meant what you think it did. And even if it did, you aren’t just leaving Gordo behind. That sweet girl you love is a part of this, too. Are you telling me you can just walk away from them without finding out what happened?”

  “Stop trying to be my dad. You’re not even that much older than me.”

  That made him chuckle, which in turn made me see red. “Javi, I’m not your dad. I’m your friend. And as your friend, I’m saying take a few more days, but then give yourself a chance. It will feel better, I promise, and I don’t want you to regret not confirming what you think we saw.”

  “How can you say that?” He was trying to be mature, but instead it was coming off as patronizing. In the moment, Reagan was pushing more buttons than he was soothing. He should be in my corner, not fighting for Gordo. It was too much, and I just… I didn't want to feel better, not yet. In that moment, too jacked up on adrenaline and nauseous and reeling, I needed to be angry.

  Reagan was trying to offer me hope. I wasn’t sure that I wanted it.

  25

  Gordo

  For three days and nights I tried calling Javi, but he never answered, and his truck never pulled into his driveway. Seeing the empty driveway and dark windows next door made me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t bear that a miscommunication was driving him from his home, and away from me. I missed him, and Giuliana seemed to as well. She was grumpier than usual, and would cry for long jags at a time.

  So when the fourth morning rolled around and I just couldn’t take waiting around anymore, I packed up Giuliana and took her to Mason’s house. Then I drove to the tattoo shop, determined to tell Javi the truth.

  When I got there, I waited in the car. Javi had often left during mornings to go to “Donuts and Discussion” at Get Ink’d. At the time, I was happy he had people who worked to create a feeling of family and community and not just another workplace. Now I was glad I had a chance to catch him before he got tied up with clients.

  But as Trinity came and opened up, and Dane brought in the telltale box of pastries, Javi didn’t show. Finally, Reagan pulled up, and he spotted me right away. I braced myself as he stormed over to my car. I haven’t done anything wrong. But I hoped to hell he’d give me a chance to prove it.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he growled as I climbed out of the driver’s seat.

  “You know that you guys managed to miss all of my threats to Kyle and catch us right as he made a pathetic last play, right?” It took effort to sound confident and not cowed. Reagan was tall and I’d seen how protective he was of Javi. I liked that about the
man—at least until he was protecting Javi from me.

  He grunted. “I figured. You strike me as a good guy.”

  My spirits lifted a little. “I am a good guy. And I need to talk to Javi, and tell him what really happened.”

  But Reagan was a boulder, unmovable. “He isn’t here, and you need to give him time. You asked that of him, right? It is only fair you give it in return. He’ll come around, I promise.”

  There wasn’t anything I could say to argue with that. I had to move on to another plan. “Okay. But if he asks?”

  “I’ll tell him you stopped by, and what you said about what we saw,” Reagan promised, clapping me on the shoulder.

  Shit, was this how Javi had felt when I’d asked him for time to deal with Kyle? Because this sucked. It hurt and it gave me the kind of anxiety that made it feel like my body might shut down at any minute, heart and adrenals overtaxed. No wonder Javi had been ready to believe the worst when he’d seen Kyle and I through the window. I was such a fucking idiot.

  But I wasn’t ready to give up yet.

  My next stop was the center, but Mike was as resolute as Reagan had been. “He asked for some time and privacy, Gordo, and I want to honor his wishes.”

  “Do you think he’ll come back soon?” I was at the end of my rope and didn’t hide the desperation in my voice.

  Mike shrugged in defeat. “I hope so. He’s been like an angel to me and to the kids. Hell, Andrew is going to thrive here because of Javi. Speaking of which, would you mind saying hello to Andrew? He’s been asking after Javi, and you’re another familiar face, at least. I think it could be very grounding for him. He’s in the rec room with his new translator.”

  The rec room looked much improved from my last few visits. I spotted a new ping pong table and a bookshelf filled with books, neither of which had been there before. Andrew was on a couch, signing back and forth with a woman who looked to be in her early twenties.