Inked Boy: The All American Boy Series

by C. A. Harms

  “Well, it was nice meeting you,” she steps around me and starts to walk away.

  “You too,” I holler out. “I’m Bree, by the way.” she is almost to her car and pauses, looking over the roof of her car. She says something in return, but I can’t quite make it out.

  After she is in her car and backing out of the space, I think to myself that I really should have exchanged numbers with her. Aurora and I could have taken her out and helped her get over that jerk of a cheating ex.

  What a pig!

  Chapter Seventeen

  Daxton

  I sit across the table from officer Wenzer, trying to refrain from losing my shit. It's not his fault my ex is a raging bitch.

  "The bartender and security guard vouched for you and said you left abruptly. I'm sure that's when you noticed that Ms. Kelley was there?"

  "Yes," I've been hauled into the station after a complaint from Autumn was received that I'd violated the restraining order. Almost a fucking week after it took place. "I walked in, bought a couple of drinks for two friends, and started to dance with," I pause; I do not want Bree pulled into this mess. "A friend, and that's when I noticed that Autumn was there. I then left nothing more. I never spoke to hear, never glared, anything."

  "Ms. Kelley also mentioned that you were at the music festival following her around."

  "I never even knew she was there." This entire thing is bullshit. "Did she also happen to mention that she trashed the front window of my shop and that it isn't the first time either?"

  He looks up from the file in front of him.

  "I've called into this station four times in the last seven months due to vandalism. I've had to replace the front window of my shop four different times now. She gets away with it every single time, and I'm forced to deal with her crazy. I've upgraded my camera four times, and every single one of those times the police officer says they can’t identify her. She has followed me when I’ve gone on dates or even talked to another woman. Every time this woman.” I tap the file with Autumn's name on the top, "Finds yet another way to spin her crazy around on me. I've never done anything to deserve a restraining order. I've never hurt her, never threatened her. I want her out of my life, but she's crazy enough to think by me walking away and telling her I was done, that it's me playing hard to get."

  He still only stares at me, showing no signs of a reaction to my words.

  "If I date, she thinks I'm trying to make her jealous. If I ignore her, she's deluded enough to believe I want her to chase me. I'm telling you right now; I want nothing to do with this woman. She is the one following me, put a fucking tracker on her ass, hell have someone watch her. Actually, don't give a shit, have them watch me if that's what it takes, but I could assure you if she moved to Alaska, that still wouldn't be far enough away."

  An hour later, I walk into the shop, and all eyes turn to me. Every one of my friends was waiting impatiently for my return. "Why the fuck is the closed sign up in the window?" I rip it off the door and toss it on the desk. It slides over the metal top and falls to the ground on the other side, making a crashing sound.

  "We thought you were being arrested and locked up, you asshole," Luna hollers at me, and none of the guys do anything but stare between her and me. "The cops show up here and haul you off. No questions, no explanation, so yes, we closed the God damned shop."

  My irritation level has reached an all-time high. I know they all care; I know they worry, but I don't need it now. I don't want it.

  Spinning around, I walk back out the front door, and instead of stopping at my apartment, I continue past, needing a break. I feel like things are unraveling, and there is no way to stop it.

  I sit on a bench overlooking the park, hidden in the shadows in the dark. I'm not looking for company. It's the last thing I want.

  So many times, I wish I could go back before meeting Autumn and do it all over again.

  Yeah, she was fun to look at, and behind closed doors, she was a wildcat. But that shit went south after about the first six months. She started taking everything to the extreme. Every time I tattooed a chick, I would be accused of sleeping with her. If I glanced in the direction a woman happened to be, Autumn would flip. She'd show up all the time, creating drama at the shop in front of customers.

  When I found she had been poking holes in condoms and stopped taking her pills, I refused to have sex with her. Of course, that just set forth a whole new round of problems.

  Luna is right; I am allowing Autumn to control my future, but what other choice do I have?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Breanna

  * * *

  “You didn’t show an apartment to anyone Tuesday?”

  “What apartment, Bree?” My father asks, looking at me like I’ve lost my damn mind.

  “The vacant one,” I’m beginning to think I imagined the entire thing. “A redhead,” holding my hand up, I try to determine her height in comparison to mine. “About this tall, maybe a little taller.”

  “Sweetheart, there are no vacant apartments.” He tilts his head to the side. “You feeling okay?”

  “I’m not sick, you fool,” I push at his arm, and he chuckles. “There really was a woman here the other day, and she said she was looking at an apartment. We talked when I’d dropped all my stuff outside, and she helped me pick everything up.”

  “What was her name?”

  “I didn’t get her name,” he arches his brow at me. “But she told me all about needing to find a new place to gain some distance from her cheating ex. they’d been together for over a year had planned a future, thought they’d buy a house.”

  “You got all that from a nameless woman?” Yes, my father thinks I’m crazy.

  “Nevermind,” apparently, this is going nowhere.

  “I stand up and carry the dishes to the sink and find Sonya, my father’s girlfriend hiding her smile. She never gets involved when my dad and I are going back and forth. Instead, she enjoys it when we hassle one another.

  It took a while for my father to start dating again. It was hard to watch him laugh with a woman that wasn’t my mother. But when he met Sonya, things were different. She never once made me feel as though she was or would ever attempt to replace my mother. On the contrary, she is the exact opposite; she treats my mother’s things so delicately and insists, her things are displayed and not hidden.

  When she sat down with my father and me one night and for hours looked through album after album and watched old home movies of my mom, I knew I loved her. She’s good for my dad, and she keeps him in line. She also knows how to handle him when he gets wound up.

  She has no children of her own, has never been married, and is strong and independent.

  “We still on for Friday?” She asks as she moves in beside me while I rinse my dishes. I look at her, and then it hits me. “You forgot?”

  “No,” she doesn’t fall for my lie. “Okay, yes, but it’s alright. I don’t have any plans that will keep me from going.”

  A spa day sounds fantastic.

  “You sure?”

  “Am I sure I want to be pampered with a facial and massage, maybe a pedicure? I may even go big and get myself a wax.”

  “Too much girl talk going on in here,” My father walks out of the room, shaking his head, and I giggle. I forgot he was in the room.

  “I think I overdid it with the talk of a wax.” She laughs and looks back over her shoulder to ensure my dad is gone.

  “So,” she talks in a low tone. “Does this idea of a wax mean that you’ve met someone?”

  “No one worth talking about,” my stomach sours when my thoughts flash to the one and only man that is still occupying my dreams. I felt like such an idiot for even thinking of Dax in that way. But the truth is, even though the aftermath was a cluster-fuck, the actual event was the best I’ve ever experienced. It’s hard to imagine that anyone else, would ever come close to it.

  “Uh oh,” Sonya leans in and crosses her arms over her chest. “
Do I need to sick your father on someone?”

  “Nope.” I can’t even imagine what a disaster that would be. “It happened, it’s done, and I’ve moved on.”

  Maybe I haven’t completely moved on, but I’m getting there. “I have a date on Sunday.”

  “A date, huh?”

  “Nothing big, just lunch with a guy that works at the high school. A math, teacher.” I’m trying to be optimistic. It’s hard; who am I kidding? I am dreading it. “He wears khakis and parts his hair down the middle.”

  Sonya laughs.

  “I’m sure it will be a one and never again thing, but I refuse to cancel.”

  “Do you want me to call you and pretend to be a panicked friend with an emergency?” She is honest to the core, and I know she’ll do it too, but if I want to move on from the Idea of Dax, I had to push through this. I had to try.

  “No, I’ll be okay.”

  “If you change your mind,” I genuinely love this woman. She is, without a doubt, one of the good ones.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Daxton

  * * *

  “Hey Luna, do you know where—,” Immediately, my words come to an abrupt halt when I round the corner and find Aurora sitting in her chair. Luna is holding her gun, extending a few inches above Aurora’s side, and her glasses perched on the end of her nose.

  Aurora is only wearing a bra and pants. A lacy, black bra, that is, one that reminds me of the white one Bree wore the night she showed up at my place.

  “Hey creep,” she says, and I ignore that bitchy smirk she tosses in my direction.

  “You need something, boss?”

  I feel no attraction to Aurora; the problem is every time I see her or even hear her name, it reminds me of a certain someone that I am very attracted to, which creates a problem. It’s nothing more than a reminder of something I can’t have. A reminder of the shitty hand I’m dealt with crazy tailing me, watching my every move.

  “Cleaner,” I finally say. “I think Oliver took the last of mine, and our order hasn’t come in yet.”

  “Under the ink’s,” she juts her chin in that direction, and then I hear her gun start to hum.

  Kneeling, I open the cabinet and pull out the gallon of cleaner before standing and turning around. I can feel Aurora staring holes in me, but I don’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction. So instead, I walk toward the exit, and just as I’m rounding the corner, she says something that stops me in my tracks.

  “I was just telling Luna that Breanna has a date tomorrow.”

  I grip the bottle and hold it tightly to me. Then, pausing, I look back and find Aurora watching me. Although Luna doesn’t look away from the spot she’s inking on Aurora’s side, I know she, too, is curious about what I will say next.

  My nostrils flare, “Well, I hope everything turns out great for her.” I’m not lying; I do want everything good for Bree. Though everything would be better if I could be the guy, she’s with, sharing a meal, watching a movie, waking up next to her in the mornings, and holding her close. Whatever it be, I wish I was the one giving it to her.

  “You are a prick, aren’t you.” The side of the gun stops when Aurora shifts in the chair. “Do you have any conscience?”

  “Nothing happened that she didn’t want to happen.”

  “Oh, so she wanted you to dismiss her like trash? She wanted you to nail her against the wall and forget her. She wanted—,”

  “I told her it wouldn’t be more.”

  “You’re a miserable ass,” Aurora is getting mad, and I can’t blame her. But it will change nothing.

  “You’re right,” I tell her and offer the most sincere smile I can. “I am a miserable ass, and she deserved better.”

  What’s the point of arguing?

  Chapter Twenty

  Breanna

  * * *

  “Water please,” I don’t know if it’s nerves or something else, but I’ve felt queasy all morning.

  “So you’re a photographer?” Dumb question considering that is how we met. I was doing the yearbook photos for high school, and Kevin monitored the students during the process. “Do you enjoy it?”

  I honestly think I am being unfair to him. I came into this date thinking it would be a wreck and not allowing him to show me I was wrong. So, I took a deep breath, leaned in, and engaged in a conversation that felt forced.

  “My mother enjoyed taking photos. It wasn’t her profession but more of a hobby. She’d take me along with her while shooting scenery and things. I think it was more of her joy and passion for it that made me love it.”

  “That’s nice,” had he not been smiling and leaning in fully invested in my words, I would have thought he was poking fun. The truth is, Kevin is sweet. He met me outside, held the door for me when we entered the restaurant, and pushed in my chair for me when we sat down at our table. He is attentive and kind.

  “I picked up my first camera at seven, and by ten years old, I was taking pictures of everything. Family gatherings, the neighbors,” I smile when he laughs. “They got used to it after a while; I was a kid with a hobby. But that hobby grew to love, and now, my dream is a reality. I get to take pictures and be as creative as I want to be. Then, I get to share that love with others and find incredible joy in the expressions on their faces when they see the finished product.”

  “What is your favorite subject to shoot?”

  “Babies,” I think of the one I had only a few days ago. Little chubby, sweet and sleepy Grant, who I don’t believe cried once, only grunted a few times. “The idea is to capture their most surprising expressions and with a baby that can change in an instant.”

  “And they don’t talk back,” he adds, and I know he’s speaking of the teens he spends most of his days with.

  “So, what made you want to be a teacher?”

  “Temporary insanity,” he chuckles when I wrinkle my nose. “By the time I figured out I should have chosen a different career, I was two weeks into my first position in Maryland, and I didn’t want to have to go back to college and start over.”

  I’m not sure how to respond, so I sit quietly and wait.

  “No, really, I had a high school teacher that changed things for me. I was a kid who, for a time, lost my way, and he took the time to mentor me. If he hadn’t shown me that I could be better, I don’t know where I’d be.”

  “That’s incredible,” Kevin seems so genuine.

  We order lunch, and though I have no appetite, I force myself to eat. I am picking at my sandwich and moving my salad around on my plate, trying to appear as though I’ve eaten more than I had. The food is great, but my nausea has only grown throughout our time together.

  After he paid and we took a short walk outside, we exchanged the promise of meeting again soon.

  Climbing into my car, I lean back against the headrest and try to calm my stomach. Breathing in and slowly exhaling, but the harder I try, the worse it seems to get.

  Holding it together long enough to drive a few blocks, I stop at my studio and rush inside. I barely make it to the bathroom before I lose the little I’d managed to consume. Sitting back on the floor, I sag against the wall and feel as though I’ve been hit by a freight train.

  “Maybe this is a sign,” I whisper to myself. I know it's ridiculous, but it's where my mind goes.

  I manage to pull myself up off the floor and make it to the front just as the front door comes open, and I freeze. “Hey,” Oliver enters, allowing the door to close behind him. “Surprise,” he holds his hands out and shakes his hands. Oliver seems nervous, and well, I’m confused as to why he is here, standing in my studio. The times I did see him, he barely spoke to me, yet here he is.

  “Aurora told me where your studio is.” Thank you, Aurora. A little heads-up would have been nice to have. I still say nothing. Honestly, it is more due to the churning in my stomach and a lot less to do with the man standing only a few feet away.

  “He’s not a bad guy,” I bite my lip to keep from saying
something sarcastically inappropriate. “His issues are not mine to share, but I wanted you to know that he does have a thing for you. Unfortunately, he just can’t do anything about it.”

  “What’s the purpose for this visit?” I shrug, wondering what Oliver expects me to say.

  “I don’t know to be honest.” He moves in further and sits down in the chair in my waiting area. Then, leaning forward, he rests his elbow on his knees and links his fingers, looking down at the ground. A few silent seconds pass before he looks back at me. “Daxton is my best friend, and I guess that,” he shakes his head and stands. “I’m just sorry that it couldn’t be different.”

  Oliver turns and walks out of my studio, leaving me dumbfounded and even more confused.

  I regret ever going to the festival in the first place. I regret going to his shop and the bar. I regret feeling like going to his place that night was a good idea.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Daxton

  * * *

  “Dax,” I grumble when I hear Oliver’s voice on the other end of the line and look over at the clock.

  “It’s three in the morning, Oliver,” on a Tuesday.

  “You need to get up,” he sounds panicked, and immediately I think the worst.

  “What the hell has happened?” I’m up and pulling on my jeans before he responds.

  “Lauren called, and Autumn was brought in tonight.” I pause with one arm in the sleeve of my shirt. My stomach tightens. “Someone beat the hell out of her, and she said it was you.”

  I flop down on the end of my bed.

  “You've been home all night, right?"

  "I didn’t fucking touch her,” I shout, feeling adrenaline coarse through me.

  “I know that, but what I need to know is if you went out anywhere?”