Inked on Paper

by Nicole Edwards

  “Will you come home? Please?”

  Switching the phone to my other ear, I inhaled deeply, then let it out. “Yeah. I’ll come home.”

  “What about the movie?” she questioned.

  “I can do everything I need to do from Texas,” I assured her, hoping that was true. A lot had gone into gearing up for the release of the movie that was based on one of my best-selling novels, but these things happened. They would just have to adapt. “Tell Abby I’ll be there soon, okay?”

  Another heart-wrenching sob echoed in the phone, and I could feel my sister’s pain as though it were my own. I knew Paige had been having a hard time lately with Abby. My fourteen-year-old niece was going through a rough spot, but we’d all just thought it was normal teenage drama. Abby was a good kid. A smart kid. How could this be happening? Why hadn’t we seen it coming?

  “Do you know why she did it?” I asked, not sure I wanted to know.

  Paige’s voice lowered. “Last week, she told me she hated school. Said she never wanted to go back and that I couldn’t make her.”

  “Did she say why?”

  “Just that the kids were assholes and she couldn’t take it anymore.” Another sob. “But she’s said that so many times. I didn’t think…” More sniffling. “God, Jake, I figured it was hormones. I never thought…”

  “Of course you didn’t,” I said reassuringly. “It’s okay, Paige. We’ll get her through this, I promise.”

  “We’re gonna move in with Mom for a little while.”

  Oh, shit. That didn’t sound like a good idea. “Why?”

  “I… Terry’s back in jail and I can’t pay the rent on my own.”

  “No,” I insisted. “I’ll pay your rent, Paige. I don’t want you to worry about that.”

  “Abby doesn’t want to go back to that school,” Paige countered.

  “Fine. You’ll find another house and a different school. Just let me know what you need.”

  “Jake…”

  “No arguments, Paige. I’ll make sure it’s taken care of.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  I downed half of the water, then searched the cabinet for some ibuprofen. I needed to send the woman in my bed home so I could clear my head and get my shit together. Unfortunately, I still couldn’t remember her name and didn’t have the patience to deal with her right now. The last thing I needed was a one-night stand asking about my personal business. As a rule, I didn’t share that sort of thing with anyone, and I damn sure wasn’t about to start now.

  “I need you here,” Paige pleaded.

  “I know. And I’m coming home. I promise.”

  “Okay.” Paige sighed. “One more thing…”

  “What is it?”

  “Please don’t mention this to anyone? The last thing we need is for this to become public news. Your life’s an open book and everyone seems to know everything—”

  “No one will know,” I assured her.

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me, Paige. You’re my sister. I’m here for you and Abby. Always.”

  After I hung up the phone, I stood there, staring into space. This was something I had to do, but I couldn’t help wondering whether or not this would be the change that I couldn’t bounce back from.

  Chapter One

  Jake

  One year later—January 15

  Present day

  Where, oh where did he disappear to?

  Perhaps you’re asking yourself the same question I am, “Why haven’t we seen anything from Jacob Wild in a while?” Remember him? The hunky author who took the nation by storm, the one whose seductive eyes and dirty words quite literally make women’s panties fall off. Yeah, you remember him now. I knew you would.

  It’s been nearly two years since we all anxiously awaited this mysterious, bad boy author’s release of FORBIDDEN and close to a year since the movie premiered. I still remember the day the book downloaded on my Kindle. There I was, sitting on the edge of my seat, breathing hard because I knew the heat that would accompany Jill and Justin’s truly forbidden love story.

  Oh, what I wouldn’t give to live inside Mr. Wild’s mind for a day. What fun that must be.

  Anyway … I certainly wasn’t disappointed when I grabbed up a handful of girlfriends and we went to the theater to watch Jill and Justin come alive on the big screen, seeing for myself how Jill’s world ignited when her boss showed her the true meaning of a “hands on” workplace. Only now, I want more from this sexy bad boy. A lot more.

  If you’re like me, you devoured FORBIDDEN, possibly even in one sitting, and maybe watched the movie three or four times. I did. I won’t lie. And after, as with any uber-sexy love story, I was chomping at the bit for the next. Only … it’s been roughly a year since we’ve seen or heard from him, and still there is no sign of the sexy, reclusive Jacob Wild.

  Has anyone else wondered what happened to him?

  Where did he go?

  “Not again.”

  Leaning back in my chair, fingers linked behind my head, elbows wide, I continued to stare at the screen long after I’d finished reading the article questioning where I was. The article my editor, Liz, had sent me via email, insisting that I read it.

  Well, I read it, but I wasn’t sure what she expected me to do now.

  I glanced down at my phone.

  Three…

  Two…

  One…

  The familiar ring tone sounded and I smiled. Liz McCowan was nothing if not predictable. Sometimes I wondered if she was monitoring me through my web cam just so she could call me at times like this. Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past her.

  “Hey,” I greeted, lifting the phone to my ear. “Kinda late for you to be calling, huh?”

  “It’s only ten,” Liz replied.

  “It’s also Friday night.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m bored. So, did you read it?” Liz’s excitement was palpable.

  “Yep.”

  “And…? What’d you think?”

  What did I think? First of all, I’d never thought I’d see the day when people whom I did not know would wonder what had happened to me. But that was what my life had become over the past seven years, and though it was strange, it was still … humbling, I guess you could say.

  But I didn’t tell Liz that. Just to get a rise out of her, I said, “I thought it was entertaining.”

  A startled squeak sounded in my ear.

  What do you know? It worked.

  “Jacob Wild. That is not entertaining. That is exactly what people are thinking right now. What the hell happened to you? Where did you go? Who are you doing?”

  I laughed. “Who am I doing?” I couldn’t believe she said that.

  “Yes. You know … who are you slee—”

  “Oh, I get it,” I said, cutting her off. “I just don’t understand why they care.”

  “You’re a celebrity, Jake.”

  “No,” I told her, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my desk while holding the phone to my ear with one hand and raking my other hand through my unruly hair. “Ashton Kutcher is a celebrity. Mila Kunis is a celebrity. I’m an author.”

  “A famous author.”

  Okay, maybe she had me there, although that word still left a weird taste in my mouth. I definitely didn’t see myself as famous. Famous people didn’t spend most of their time locked up in their condo, alone.

  If I had to describe myself in one word, private would be what came to mind. I didn’t enjoy being in the public eye, didn’t want people watching what I did, what I said, who I screwed, what I ate for breakfast, how I lived my life. And not only because I was far from perfect, having done some crazy shit over the years, or because, for the past year, I’d spent the majority of my time in a whirlwind of family problems, either. Yet, somehow, because of the books I’d written, that was exactly where I’d found myself. Smack dab in the center of it all, even when I’d been lying low for a year.

  “It’s time y
ou get back out there, Jake. You can’t hide forever,” Liz said, her tone even, worried.

  “I’m not hiding,” I reassured her.

  I was definitely hiding.

  “Did that article not catch your attention?” she inquired.

  “Why would it?” I really did enjoy getting her riled up.

  And, okay, yes, the article had caught my attention, there was no doubt about that. With words like mysterious and sexy and bad boy … how could it not?

  “Jake, your name’s out there once again. People are asking about you, waiting for you to come out of your hidey hole.”

  Hidey hole? Really?

  I sighed. At the risk of repeating myself, I said, “I’m not hiding, Liz.”

  “Then why don’t I believe you? Do you realize how much attention this has drawn?”

  Yes, in fact, I did. Based on the amount of attention I’d received lately, I think that article had catapulted me onto everyone’s radar.

  Since the popular blog had posted the lengthy exposé three days ago, wondering where I’d disappeared to, I’d been inundated with calls, emails, and tweets, all from people trying to get the inside scoop as to what I’d been up to for the past year. I’d seen the Facebook posts and the Tweets, most asking what I was working on—not to mention what (and who) I was doing, whether or not I would ever write another novel, if I’d gone on a drunken bender, gotten married (and/or divorced), been abducted by aliens, taking care of a love child, secretly become a game show host (seriously?)… Oh, the speculation was endless, really, and people were desperate for answers.

  “Jake, they want to know when your next book will be released. I need to be able to tell them.” Gone was the teasing note in Liz’s voice; in its place, Serious Liz, the Editor had taken over.

  “I wish I had an answer.” It was the same thing I’d told her on every phone conversation we’d had for the past few months. And I was no closer to knowing now than I had been every other time I’d answered.

  Sure, I’d been busy for the past year. Busy doing every fucking mundane thing I could think of that might possibly spur the idea for another book. I’d come back to Texas, helped my sister and my niece to get back to what was now their new normal, bought a condo, and settled in somewhat. That was quite the resume for one year, if you asked me.

  However, I most certainly hadn’t gotten married. Or divorced. Nor was my disappearance from the public eye anything as exciting as the fodder for the tabloids. In fact, my disappearance had nothing to do with me at all.

  Granted, that brief stint I did in jail probably qualified as exciting—initiating a bar fight was never a good thing—but as far as I knew, that story had died a long time ago. Thank God.

  Truth was, these days my life was rather boring. Before toggling over to that piece, I’d been sitting here, staring blankly at my screen, running through all the shit I’d accomplished over the course of the three hours I’d been awake—thanks to the late night I’d had.

  “Tell me what you did today,” Liz prompted.

  Here we go again. “You don’t even want to know.”

  “Humor me,” she insisted.

  Leaning back in my chair, I closed my eyes. “Well, my kitchen’s clean. Right down to the inside of the vegetable crispers in the refrigerator.”

  “What?” Liz did not sound humored. “No one wants to know that notorious bad boy Jacob Wild cleans his own refrigerator.”

  “Maybe not. But it’s true.”

  “Seriously, Jacob.”

  “Seriously. I’m quite handy with the cleaner. In fact, I also scrubbed all the bathrooms,” I told her with a huff. “All four of them, upstairs and down.”

  I still had no clue how I’d ended up living alone in a thirty-two-hundred-square-foot condo with four fucking bathrooms, but here I was.

  “Jacob.”

  “What? You asked.”

  Liz sighed deeply into the phone.

  Since she wanted me to humor her, I continued. “The floors in every room of my condo ... fucking spotless. At this point, I’m pretty damn sure I could eat off them—hell, probably even in the bathrooms—if I was so inclined. But no, before you ask, I don’t have any plans to do so.”

  Not exactly my thing, no matter how fucked up I’d become lately.

  “Ja—”

  “Nope, hold up. I’m not done. I didn’t just get in touch with my inner Mr. Clean. I found plenty more to do. The books on the shelf in my office … well, you’ll be happy to know that I put them in alphabetical order by author. Then by title. Then back again.” Liz sighed, but I rattled on. “The loose blade on the ceiling fan in the guest bedroom … no longer squeaks. The strange rattle in the hall bath exhaust fan … no longer rattles. And all those one-off socks that had piled up in my laundry basket … yep, sorted and paired.”

  “Okay, I get it,” Liz said, sounding both frustrated and, yes, slightly amused.

  “Plus I took a nap.”

  Liz sighed again.

  “I know those aren’t exactly the things my readers would expect me to do in my spare time, but there it is. The secret’s out.”

  “I think that’s a secret we can keep under wraps for a little while longer,” she told me. “What I want to know is what you’re working on. As far as your book.”

  I sat up straight, moved my finger over the track pad, and brought the laptop screen to life once again. “To be honest, nothing.” I wasn’t lying, either. On the laptop monitor in front of me right at this moment … the only thing that I should’ve accomplished for the day thus far…

  Not a goddamn thing.

  “Wait,” I added. “Hold up. That’s not entirely true. There are two words—Chapter One—staring back at me right now.” Those two little words were taunting me, pissing me off because the cursor rested on the line beneath that and I had nothing.

  Absolutely fucking nothing.

  It was safe to say that this bout of writer’s block was beginning to affect my attitude.

  “How do we ease the writer’s block, Jake?” Liz’s tone morphed from frustrated to sympathetic as she seemingly read my mind.

  I knew she meant well and I really did appreciate it. But it wasn’t that simple and Liz knew that. Which was why I didn’t respond, instead taking a deep breath and trying to relax.

  “Okay,” Liz finally said, her tone much calmer than before. “I’m not going to bug you about it anymore.”

  “Today, you mean,” I noted.

  “Yes, today.” Liz chuckled. “But I want you to know I’m here. If you want to hash it out, I can help you.”

  “If there was anything to hash out, you’d be the first person I’d call.” If anyone could help me, I knew Liz would be the one.

  “How’s your niece?”

  I glanced up at the picture of me and Abby on my bookshelf. “She’s … good. Really good.”

  Although my world had been turned upside down a year ago, Abby was in a much better place these days. Only now, Abby seemed to be getting on with her life, while mine had pretty much stalled out.

  “Well, I suggest you go out, have a few beers, maybe get laid, then get some sleep, and start again tomorrow. It will come back to you, Jake. I know that.”

  Laid. She wanted me to get laid.

  Liz the Editor was morphing into Liz the Pimp. Nice.

  As for things coming back to me, I was beginning to doubt that was the case, but I knew Liz did not want my pessimism, so I held my tongue.

  “I’ll let you go,” Liz continued. “If you need anything, call me.”

  “Thanks.”

  And as I dropped my cell phone onto my desk, I realized I didn’t feel any better after our conversation.

  Chapter Two

  Presley

  “Hey, bitch!” Blaze’s cheerful tone echoed from somewhere behind me. “You fuckin’ sleepin’ over there or what?”

  I didn’t bother to look up from the shoulder I was tattooing. “I was,” I mumbled. “But then your big mouth showed up
.”

  Blaze chuckled, then propped herself on the counter beside my station. She leaned over, checking out what I was working on, then sat back up. “You seen Gil?”

  I paused long enough to look at her and swipe more ointment on the guy’s shoulder. I put the needle to his skin again.

  “Some little giggly chick came by and he lit outta here like his ass was on fire.” When Blaze didn’t come back with a smartass retort, I paused again and looked up at her. “Girl, you do not wanna get involved in that,” I warned.

  Blaze Vinsant was one of my closest friends, had been for years. In fact, she was now working at Different by Design—the tattoo shop I owned with another friend of mine, Charlotte Davenport, a.k.a. Charlie—because I’d practically dragged her over here kicking and screaming a few months ago. One of the best damned decisions I’d made in a long time, although I definitely wasn’t about to tell her that. Blaze’s ego was big enough as it was.

  “What?” Blaze finally said, sounding offended. “You think I want some of Gil?”

  I smiled, putting the needle back to the guy’s shoulder. “I know you, Blaze.”

  “No, you think you know me,” she countered.

  I knew her. Well.

  “Now, if we were talkin’ about Gavin … that’d be a different story.”

  Of course it would. Because that—my two best friends hooking up—wouldn’t be weird at all. Although secretly, I thought it would be kind of cool. Again, not mentioning that to Blaze.

  I grabbed the paper towel and wiped the guy’s skin, cleaning the droplets of blood that had formed as I studied the design, touching up one last part before tapping his arm. “You’re all set.”

  “Really?” The guy tried to awkwardly look behind him to see the tattoo.

  “Here,” Blaze said, thrusting a handheld mirror at him. “Use this.”

  I pushed back out of his way and let him get to his feet to check out the ink in the mirror, then looked at my friend. Blaze’s fiery red hair—hence the name—was piled in a crazy heap on top of her head. Her smile was painted with cherry-red lipstick, her green eyes perfectly ringed with thick black liner. The woman stopped traffic, not only because of her natural beauty but also because she chose to wear minimal clothes that highlighted the ink that covered nearly seventy percent of her body.