by Mj Fields
“Why don’t you drink?”
“Never made a good decision while drinking.”
He narrows his eyes slightly. “You smoke?”
“Cigarettes.”
“Drugs?”
“You want me to piss in a cup?”
He laughs, and so do I.
“She know everything about you she needs to?” he asks.
“By you asking the question, I’m going to assume you’ve looked into me. And there’s something in my past that doesn’t mean shit to me, so no.”
“You have a trust fund.”
“Left by a woman who wanted nothing to do with me or my kid because I marked up her ex-husband’s house when he left her and started a new family.”
“The woman, your mother. Her ex, your father.”
I shrug. “Something like that.”
“They know Luna?”
“She had the chance, denied us both, then died. He doesn’t get the chance.”
“So, you know you have money, like a substantial amount, and you would rather struggle?”
“I’m aware, but you’re wrong. This isn’t a struggle; this is life, and it’s pretty fucking sweet. Can’t get my hands on it until I’m twenty-five, and when I can, it’ll be for Luna.”
“So, what would you say if I told you that David contacted me before we left and asked me if I was interested in buying the rights to the whole show?”
“I would say I would have a team of lawyers look that shit over before signing a damn thing and only because you’re Bella’s father. Then I would tell you that you should ask Bella if she wants that kind of pressure.”
“What if I told you I had no desire to oversee a project of this type and would have told him to stick it in his ass if I didn’t think the two of you could make a shit ton of money doing what you love.”
“I would—”
“And that my brothers and I would love to be guest judges from time to time?”
“I would say that would be up to you as the financier of the project.”
“What if I said to you, I would finance it if you promised that, on your twenty-fifth birthday, you paid me back in full, that it was yours?”
I shake my head. “I don’t want that money.”
From behind me, I hear, “As one half of a couple, I’d ask that you consult your other half about that opportunity, if I were you.”
Jase looks up, startled, and then shakes his head.
Clearly, this was no setup.
“And I’d tell my dad that I want half the financial responsibility, and I’m pissed that he didn’t come to me with this first.”
“I’d tell you that I wouldn’t want to disrupt your flow. You have some killer ideas, kid. I hate TV and would watch your show. And those ideas are all you, which is why I’ve been telling you to save your ideas for when it’s yours, not when you’re still standing downstream of a good idea with piss-poor execution.” He stands up. “And I leave you two with another decision.” He kisses her head then pats my shoulder as he walks by. Then he stops.
“Tags, I like you, but what solidifies this brewing bromance is the fact that I really like your kid.”
I can’t help laughing at the irony. “Ditto.”
As soon as he’s out of sight, she drops onto my lap and wraps her arms around my neck. “My Brooklyn boy has bank.”
“My Jersey girl seems to as well.”
She leans in. “I would have totally judged you if I knew. Normally, people with money haven’t a clue. They don’t know the struggle.”
“And you do?”
“You mocking or asking?”
“If we met here, not at the studio or in Miami, before I knew you, I totally would have still fucked you, but in a mocking way.”
She laughs. “And how does one fuck in a mocking way?”
I shake my head.
“Spill it.” She reaches down and grabs my dick.
“Can’t mock-fuck you, Bella. You couldn’t even play the role that you were born to if you wanted.”
She squeezes now. “And what does that mean?”
“You could walk around with your nose up, acting like your shit smells like roses.”
“Hold up. My shit, when I do shit, does in fact smell like roses. Got it?”
“Yeah, sweets, I do.”
“Go on.” Now she’s rubbing up and down my shaft.
“You wouldn’t lie there and beg to get off; you’re an active”—I run my hand up her leg, up her tight, little belly, and under her sundress—“participant.”
“Tell me more.” She licks her lips.
“You got all the cute, little shit girls with money do—the silky hair, the clothes, the painted toes, the perfect panties, the waxed pussy—but you don’t just lie there and expect to be pleased. You fuck, you suck, you get messy, and your fucking mouth is a dream.”
“You like my mouth?”
“Every word, filthy or otherwise, that comes out of it.” Lips against hers, I whisper, “Now turn that ass around, straddle me, and let me fuck you right here, right now.”
“Yeah?” she asks, turning her body.
I reach down and pop the buttons, pull my cock out, push her panties aside, and push into her. “Nice and slow, sweets,” I moan as she rocks against me. “Christ, I’ve missed you.”
Four days later, I’m sitting outside a southern plantation, looking over sprawling lawns, as Luna floats around the pool, not willing to let go of Kiki or Max, Bella’s brother, the kid who spends eighty percent of his time in his room or the shower, nineteen percent eating, and one percent actually conversing with the family. The twenty percent he’s with everyone, his nose is in his phone. I’m going to safely assume the other eighty percent he’s on it as well, looking at shit no one wants to know about, with a table full of lawyers, Jase and smoking cigars. And yeah, Bella’s smoking one, too.
We’re celebrating our new baby, Moonlit Productions, owners Isabella Steel and Carter Taggart. We’ve acquired the creative rights to Fifty Shades of Ink and renamed it, Convicted Ink, which trademarked application is in process, so we own that together as well. We have a home base and are already working on an editing team. Now we’re shopping designs, and Bella is impatiently waiting so she can start her marketing plan. Website, live feeds, social media for the show and the cast, and a million other things she’s got firing off in her head.
The last signature needed is a contract naming Mara Gorgon as executive producer of this season’s show. Totally Bella’s idea. She wants her to have something for to work for, even though we’ve just signed our lives away and paid them off. Bella wants something for Mara to be proud of, something to tell Luna someday.
In the past five weeks, I have realized a few things about the world:
You don’t like your path, change it.
When someone offers a hand, take it.
Real respect is earned.
True loyalty is a rarity.
And a steel heart is one you could love without worry and trust to love you back forever.
Twenty-Seven
Convicted
Bella
“Ten men, ten attitudes.”
“Ten artists, ten cities.”
“One will walk away with one hundred thousand dollars to start a new life.”
“This is Convicted Ink.”
“We’re so badass.” I lean against him as we watch ourselves introduce the show.
Tags chuckles. “You look sexy as fuck. I look like a fucking tool.”
I pause the video, grab his face, and make him look at me. “Tell me I’m sexy, and I’m tell you you’re sexier.” I lean in and act like I’m going to kiss him then palm his face and push him back. “Until you admit we’re sexy and badass, there’s no kissing.”
I hit play and hear a deep rumble from his chest.
“Not funny.”
“What’s funny is you can’t tell me no. Never could.”
Releasing my hand, he brushes his finger
tips up my inner thigh.
I bat it away. “Luna and Kiki are sleeping right in the other room.”
He leans in, completely ignoring me, moving fingertips from my inner thigh and up my sleep shorts, now nudging under my panties.
Leaning in, he whispers, “Kiss me.”
“Nuh-uh.” I lean back as he leans in and brushes his delicious full lips against mine.
“Kiss me, sweets.”
“Nope,” I whisper with absolutely zero conviction.
He traces his tongue over my lips, and I close my mouth.
“Killing me,” he groans, rubbing a finger up and down my slit.
“Not fair.”
He slides his tongue into my mouth as he slides his finger inside me.
I slide my tongue against his then wrap my lips around his tongue and suck it like I want to his beautiful cock, if I wasn’t trying to prove a point … and clearly failing, but I’m not really kissing him.
Leaning in more, he pushes against me until I’m on my back. Kissing me, fingering me, and pushing my shirt up, he palms my tit. Then he moves his lips to my cheek and whispers, “There is no sexier couple on this earth than us. But sweets, when I’m looking at your perfect tits”—he kisses one then the other then down my belly as he pulls my shorts down far enough to kiss my inner thigh—“when I’m seconds away from licking your pussy”—he pushes a second finger inside me—“there is nothing sexier. So, sweets, I look like a tool.”
He stands up and loses his shirt. Then he bends down and picks me up so I’m eyeball-to-eyeball with him and says, “You are sexy.” He kisses my lips. “You are beautiful.” He kisses me again. “And Isabella Steel”—he kicks our bedroom door shut, sets me on the floor, turns me around, pulls my shorts completely off, and he kisses my tattoo—“you are mine.”
I wake up to the smell of coffee and bacon.
“Can she wake up yet, Daddy?”
“She’s tired, baby girl.”
“She didn’t go to sleep with the moon?”
No, Luna, your daddy was a bad, bad boy last night, I think to myself.
“She woke up a few times, so she didn’t sleep that well.”
“I bet she did,” Kiki says in her normal, snarky tone.
“Keeks, you wanna flip the eggs and shut your piehole?” Tags mutters.
“There’s pieholes? Are they like donut holes?” Luna asks.
For a kid born with so many strikes against her, she is freaking amazing.
“You wanna pick up your pretties where you dropped them by the couch?”
I jump up, grab a tee-shirt, and throw it on. “Kiki, could you come in here please?”
“Momma Bell’s awake.” Kiki laughs. “Coming.”
When she walks in, I shake my head. “You do know how much it took to convince him to pull Luna from school because you were more than capable of doing the same curriculum as she was doing?” I wrap my hair up in a messy bun. “That’s not the education we were thinking.”
“She’s a smart girl; she’s gonna pick up on clothes laying in the middle of the living room floor sooner or later.”
“I was doing laundry.”
“Yeah you were.” She laughs and tosses my shorts at me.
I wad them up and throw them in her face.
“Luna, is that the alarm?”
“Time to call Paula!” she squeals. “Moon time?”
“Yeah, baby girl, different time zone. Time to send her the moon.”
“They’re here,” Kiki says as the cars start to pull up to the plantation house we’ve been renting until we head to Flint, Michigan.
“I’ll go greet them.” Tags grabs the back of Kiki’s shirt and pulls her back. “You stay here.”
“Bully,” she snaps.
He chuckles. “Remember that.”
Looking out the window, I point them out as they exit the vehicles, “Maze, Grimm, Axel, Blade, Ranger, Darby, Breaker, Dagger, Neo, and Sisco. Sisco took Tags’ place. He owns a shop in New York. He’s doing him a favor by being here.”
“All convicts?” Kiki asks, smiling.
“All have done their time.”
“So, is it true what they say about bad boys?”
I hip-check her, and she almost falls over.
I laugh. “Girl, you aren’t even ready for me.”
When the guys come in, I have Luna on my hip.
Axel is the first one to hug me. “Guess no gummies for you this trip.”
“Gummies?” Kiki asks.
“We tried to steal her stash.” Axel smirks. “You must be J.B.?”
“Huh?” Kiki asks.
“Jail Bate,” Maze clarifies from behind him.
“Where’s the food?” Grimm asks.
“In the kitchen, scary guy.” Luna points toward the kitchen.
“Thank you, Miss Luna.”
Ranger walks in next. “Hey, boss lady.” He hugs me. “Luna.” He shakes her hand. “J.B.” He lifts his chin.
“I hate your boyfriend,” Kiki sneers.
While the guys eat the massive amounts of food that Tags, Luna, and Kiki made while I was editing, Tags explains the change in ownership and the direction of the show. We show them the footage from Vegas and reveal the name Convicted Ink. They all seem to like it, and even more than the name—the message behind it.
Second chances, new beginnings.
Tags
Crimson Door
“Sweets.” I hug her as she sobs against my chest. My heart literally aches for her. “It’s all part of the show.”
She shakes as she speaks, “He’s so good.”
“He lives in New York, right?”
“Probably in a box now.”
There’s a knock on the door to the office of Crimson Door Ink. “Give us a minute.”
The door opens anyway, “Hey, man, if it’s me, it’s cool.”
Bella looks back as she wipes her eyes. “Hey, Sisco.”
“Not you, bro.”
“Maze?” he asks.
I nod once.
“I’ll take him.”
“What?” Bella asks.
“Send me home this week. If he gets cut next week, which he will—”
“Sisco,” Bella gasps.
“You have some really talented men out there. He’s one of them. He won’t last, though. Man’s more interested in chatting with the clients than the art. He’s good for a studio. People will love him, but for TV, he’s not going to pull in the viewers.”
“Man, you sure about this?”
He nods. “Already got it okayed with the judges.”
Bella sniffs. “The judges are assholes.”
“You do know they’re your family, right?”
She nods and sniffs again. “Assholes.”
Jase peeks his head in. “We good with Sisco?”
When he sees the look on her face, his eyes widen.
“Don’t look at me like that!” she hisses.
“Little Bell, you need to toughen up.”
Twenty-Eight
Travel Time
Tags
We’ve traveled to four cities this summer as Moonlit Productions. Flint, where Maze was cut, as expected; Portland, where Blade was sent home; and Austin, where Breaker was cut.
Bella keeps Mara in the know via email and occasional phone conversations. She’s trying to make her feel like she’s still a part of it. I know she’s doing it to benefit Luna, but it shows just how big her heart is. And Mara, she’s being decent to her, too.
The thing is, the Steel brothers know enough shops around that, so far, everyone had a studio waiting for them. I know damn well it was their way of stopping Bella from crying. And thank God for that, because it was hell.
Right now, we’re on our way to New Jersey for ten days.
“She’s exhausted.” Bella kisses Luna’s head as she lays across our laps; feet on me, head on Bella’s.
Kiki smiles. “She’s excited, though.”
“I still think it’s
going to be a bit much for her.” I rub her back. “Good, but a lot of change.”
Bella smiles at me. “Paula will be there.”
“I know, sweets, I know.”
“And now that we’re down to five and have rearranged the schedule, we’ll be back every two weeks for two weeks.”
“In a place of our own.”
“Right down the road from Mamma Joe,” Kiki adds.
Bella smiles. “God, I can’t wait for you to meet her.”
Kiki laughs. “I’m surprised she hasn’t come home from Italy already.”
“I bet she and Thomas are having the time of their lives.”
“Yeah,” Kiki says on a yawn.
“Go to sleep, Katherine Steel.” Bella leans her head against her sister’s. “You start school in just a few days.”
“It’s going to suck,” she grumbles.
“If I made it, I know you can.”
Pulling up in front of the townhouse that Bella and I are renting until we decide where and what we want to buy, I feel a sense of peace wash over me for the second time in the past four months.
“Sweets?”
She sits up and looks at me.
“I like it.”
“Yeah?” She smiles.
“Yeah. And I know she will, too.”
I turn and look at her. “You sure this will be enough? I’ve seen pictures of your childhood home.”
“You gonna be here?”
I smile and nod.
“Luna, too?”
“Of course.”
“Paula looking out for her when we’re being badasses?’
I laugh.
“I’m going to be incredibly happy.”
I kill the engine and look in the back seat to see Luna is sound asleep. “You think we can get her into the house without waking her up so we can Christian the entire place?”
She grins. “God, I hope so.”
Bella unlocks the door after giving in to my request of allowing me to carry her across the threshold for the first time in our very first home, a tradition in the most untraditional manner. Then we head up the stairs, trying not to look around.
