by Nikki Ash
“My name is Lexi.” She holds out her hand and I have no choice but to take her tiny hand in mine. It’s warm and soft, reminding me of…No! I stop myself from going there and close my eyes for a second to stop the tears that are threatening to break free from behind my eyelids. When I open my eyes, I look up to see her dad staring at me, no longer on the phone. Even with a small frown marring his face, the man is stunning. His blue eyes match the little girl’s, both dark like the deep part of the ocean. She’s sporting the cutest dimple on her left cheek that only seems to appear when she smiles extra wide, and it has me wanting to make him smile to see if he has the same one.
Looking back at Lexi, I say, “My name is Charlie. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Are you an artist?” she asks.
“Lexi,” Tristan calls to her. “Leave her alone.”
She turns around to face him, holding up her tiny index finger indicating to give her a minute. “Dad, one minute.” Her hand is on her hip and I can’t help but laugh at her sass. Yep, he’s her dad. He raises an eyebrow, but she’s already turned back around looking at me.
“Are you?” she asks again.
“I would like to think so,” I choke out the words. “I think anybody who loves to color or paint or draw is an artist in some way.”
“I love to color and paint and draw! Does that mean I’m an artist?”
“Absolutely.” The lump in my throat gets bigger, making it harder to speak.
“But you didn’t color this.” She points to my drawing. And she’s right, it’s not colored nor will it ever be. Drawing I can handle. It’s my outlet. But coloring, that won’t be happening. I just can’t bring myself to use color. Ten months ago, my world lost all its color, becoming nothing more than swirls and shades of black, white, and grey. I swallow thickly but quickly gather myself together. “Would you like to color this picture for me?” I hand her my black and white drawing and her eyes go wide in excitement.
“Really? I would love to,” she squeals and turns to her dad. “Look! My new friend, Charlie, said I can color her picture!”
“That’s very nice of her, Lex. Did you say thank you?”
“Thank you!”
“You’re very welcome, sweet girl.”
She puts the paper down on the table then turns back to me. “Saturday is the contest at the library. Since we’re friends now, will you come?”
Her request shocks me. I don’t want to say no when it’s clear she wants me there, but at the same time, I can’t imagine her dad being okay with a stranger showing up to the library to watch her paint. Then there’s the fact I shouldn’t allow myself to infiltrate their life in any way when nothing good can come of me being around them. I know my therapist insists what happened all those months ago was an accident, but to me, it wasn’t, nor will I ever consider it to be an accident.
“Lexi, you can’t ask someone you don’t know to go to your painting contest. She could have plans that day.”
“We shook hands and she gave me her drawing to color. We’re friends, Dad. Do you have plans?” she asks me, her dark blue eyes pleading. I barely even know this little girl but something tells me people have a hard time saying no to anything she asks for.
“If it’s okay with your dad, I’m sure I can stop by to check it out.” I glance towards her dad and catch a hint of a frown before he plasters on a smile.
“Of course, it’s fine. It’s at the downtown public library on Saturday from noon to four.”
“Yep!” she adds, “I have four hours to draw and paint the bestest picture there!”
Her dad stands, takes their garbage to the trash can, and then walks over to his daughter. “C’mon Lex. We need to get going. Why don’t you go say bye to Shawna?” Lexi takes off to the counter to say goodbye to the owner, and once she’s out of earshot he turns to me. “You work at Plush.”
Unsure where he’s going with this, I confirm, “I do. You were there with your friends the other night.”
He looks back to Lexi to check on her before he says, “I judged you when I saw you the other night. I’m not gonna lie. I was attracted to you and I couldn’t take my eyes off you, but I still judged you because of your job.” I open my mouth in confusion when it hits me, he thinks I’m one of the dancers. He thinks I take my clothes off and give lap dances for money. I close my mouth because well…fuck him for judging me regardless. “Anyway, it’s not my business what you do for a living, but I have to ask that while you’re around my daughter, you keep that part of your life separate.”
Oh my God! What the hell does he think I’m going to do? Show up in a stripper outfit? Take her to the club? I’m so pissed off I want to yell at this judgmental asshole but my gut tells me to keep quiet. The last thing I need is to get into a heated argument with a man.
And then my anger wins out. “So, no pole dancing lessons…got it.” I raise one challenging brow up, and Tristan flinches.
He opens his mouth to say something but then closes it quickly, staring at me for several seconds before he says, “Maybe we’ll see you Saturday.” He gives me what looks like an apologetic smile. Then he walks over to his daughter, puts his hand out for her to take, and then pulls her along.
“Bye, Charlie! See you Saturday!” She waves as they exit. My eyes follow them as they walk down the street until they disappear out of sight. Grabbing my cup, I take a sip of my now cold coffee and notice Lexi left her pumpkin drawing on my table. It’s been almost a year since I have seen a child’s drawing. My fingers trace the black lines of the pumpkin then move to the inside, the waxy feel of the crayon on the paper making my heart pump a little faster. Bringing the paper up to my nose, I inhale deeply, the distinct crayon smell almost calming me, until I have a flashback of the last time I smelled crayons on paper.
A little over a year ago…
“Mommy! Look what I drew!” Georgia, my three-year-old daughter, comes running into the kitchen waving her picture in the air. Turning off the sink, I wipe my hands on the dish towel before taking it from her. There’s color all over the paper, messy lines drawn every which way and I have no idea what she’s drawn, but it doesn’t matter because the smile on her face tells me she is proud of this picture and that’s the only thing that’s important.
“Tell me about your picture.” We sit down at the table and Georgia excitedly explains it to me.
“It’s a rainbow! But not just any rainbow. The biggest, brightest rainbow.” She names each color she’s used and then moves on to explain the sun in the upper right corner. When she gets to the birds, the sound of the garage door going up halts her words.
“Mommy,” she whispers, fear evident in her voice, but I’m already out of my seat, grabbing the crayons as fast as I can, and shoving them into the container.
“Georgia, go to your room until I come and get you.” Georgia listens, knowing the routine, and runs off to her room, closing the door behind her. Just as I think I have all the crayons and paper gathered up, I spot one on the ground. Quickly, I reach down to grab it but it’s too late. The door opens and in walks my husband.
“What the fuck is that shit in your hands?” He towers over me and there’s no point in arguing. Anything I say will be used against me. “Answer me!” His hand comes up and backhands me. I try to hold on to the crayons and paper but they fall from my hands, landing all over the ground.
“What have I told you about this?” He grabs my chin, his cold black eyes staring through me.
“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
Justin shoves me up against the wall, one hand wrapping around my throat. “Don’t say sorry when you don’t mean it. You’re only sorry I came home early and you got caught.”
He’s so close to me I can smell the woman’s perfume lingering on him. It’s the same scent as the last time he stayed away for the entire weekend, so he must be screwing the same woman. You would think after getting laid all weekend he would come home satisfied and happy. Instead he comes home angr
y and bitter. Sometimes I wonder if that’s why he’s so mad all the time. Maybe wishes he could stay with her instead of having to come home to us.
But at the end of every weekend or business trip, he always returns home, and he always takes his anger out on me. Then after he treats me like shit, he insists we have sex. He couldn’t care less if I get off and there’s never any foreplay involved. I’m almost positive it’s only in hopes of getting me pregnant again, especially since he makes sure to tell me daily how broken I am. Every day I pray he will leave me for whoever it is he’s having an affair with but I know it will never happen. He’s too wrapped up in appearances to divorce his wife for his mistress.
What he doesn’t know is that I’m on birth control. I have to drive out of town every three months and pay cash for the shot to ensure he doesn’t find out. If he knew, he would probably kill me, but there’s no way I’m having another child with this monster. It’s bad enough I must subject Georgia to this life until I can get us out.
“We did a lot of school work today. It was only a few minutes of coloring.” Justin was homeschooled by his mother growing up and says it’s why he received such a good education. He doesn’t want Georgia going to school, so it’s up to me to homeschool her. She’s only three and isn’t due to start kindergarten for another two years but he requires her to do daily bookwork.
He backhands me once more to the same cheek and my hand instinctively comes up to rub the stinging sensation, but he smacks my hand away, his fingers tightening around my throat.
“The last thing we need is Georgia ending up anything like you. A flaky, worthless, wannabe artist. Now clean this mess up.” He lets go of my throat and I stumble to the floor to clean up the crayons, throwing it all in the trash. Before I can grab Georgia’s rainbow, he picks it up from the ground and crumples it up, throwing it into the garbage himself.
Four
Tristan
I’m putting away some of Lexi’s laundry when I notice the giant tree covering her wall, and next to it, the dining room chair. Little sneak! “Alexandria Scott!” I yell at the top of my lungs, something I don’t usually do, but damn it, this child! I’m all for her being creative but she’s not a baby anymore, and if I am forced to repaint another wall because of her painting, I’m going to lose my mind.
“Yes?” She slowly walks into her room, her blue eyes meeting mine nervously, making me feel guilty for yelling.
I take a deep breath to collect myself before I say, “Lexi, we’ve talked about this. You can’t keep coloring on the walls and the gym equipment.”
“I’m sorry. I was just practicing for the contest tomorrow. Charlie drew the tree and I want to draw one too, but I don’t have big enough paper.” Charlie. For the last few days, my daughter has talked about nothing other than Charlie.
“Charlie is such a good drawer.”
“Charlie said I’m an artist.”
“Charlie will be there to watch me at the contest.”
Unfortunately, my daughter isn’t the only one with Charlie on her mind. Several times, I’ve considered asking Morgan to babysit, so I can drag Mason to Plush to see Charlie. I’ve replayed my conversation with her a million times. I never should have said what I said. I saw how quickly Lexi latched onto her and I freaked out. I told her I wasn’t judging her then completely judged her all in the same breath.
“You need to get a sponge and wash this wall off, Lex.”
“Fine.” She huffs and heads to the kitchen to grab one of the special sponges I’ve purchased in bulk that take pen and markers off the walls. As she’s leaving, Mason walks in, still in his workout gear from the gym.
“Lexi girl!” He picks her up and flips her over his shoulder, tickling her. She starts screeching and screaming but Mason ignores her until she threatens to pee in her pants. She’s never done it but the threat alone always has Mason dropping her back to the ground.
“You stink! Go shower!” She pinches her nose in exaggeration. Mason laughs and then notices the tree on the wall.
“Wow, Lexi girl! Look at that beautiful tree! Is that what you’re going to draw tomorrow?” He strolls over to the wall, appraising it like one would do when checking out a picture at an art gallery—his head tilting to the left and then to the right. I stifle my laugh because I’m supposed to be mad.
“It is! I’m going to draw it just like Charlie did!”
Mason turns to me, giving me a knowing smirk. “Charlie again, huh? I still can’t believe you ran into her and didn’t get her number. What’s it been like a year since you’ve”—I give him a look and he glances toward Lexi—“gone fishing,” he finishes, and I groan because he’s still using that damn analogy.
“Ewww! Daddy! You go fishing? Do you throw them back in the water? I hope you don’t kill the fishies!”
“Of course your dad throws them back, Lexi girl. No fish are harmed in catch and release.” Mason laughs then goes back to appraising the tree. “Great leaves, Lexi! I love the greens and browns.”
“Really? Me, too! Daddy said I have to clean the wall.” She pouts and glares my way.
“Go, Lex,” I say and she stalks off out of the room.
“Really? No fish are harmed in catch and release?” I punch Mason in the arm and he chuckles.
“It’s better than saying you need to go get your dick wet.”
I shake my head because he’s right and I can’t think of a legitimate argument.
“Why don’t you let her color on the walls? It’s not like anybody sees her room besides us.”
“Because coloring on walls isn’t how we treat a home. It’s call learning responsibility.”
Mason scoffs. “Responsibility is paying bills, or in Lexi’s case, one day going to school and maybe making her bed when company is coming over. Responsibility is taking care of your kid and putting her first, which you do.”
“Did your parents let you color on walls when you were a kid?” I ask, but immediately regret it when Mason flinches and walks out of the room. He doesn’t talk about his family or his past. A little over ten years ago when Mason showed up in Vegas, at Bella’s dad’s gym—eighteen and homeless—my parents took him in. My dad was a UFC trainer and took Mason on, starting him on the road which has led to him becoming the successful fighter he is today. Mason has never mentioned his life prior to the day he showed up and it’s like an unwritten rule not to bring it up.
Six years ago, Mason visited California and ended up never leaving. When Bella moved out of the apartment we used to share, Mason moved in and shortly after, we moved to LA so I could get a fresh start. I transferred to the University here and Mason switched to the local UFC gym. After I graduated from college, I had no clue what I wanted to do. I majored in business management with a minor in athletic training. For about a year I dabbled with teaching some classes at the UFC gym as well as training a few new fighters. Then one day the owner approached me. He informed me he was looking to retire, which meant selling the gym. After going over the numbers with my dad, using my trust fund, I bought the place from him.
This was about three years ago. The gym is thriving and Mason is one of the top UFC fighters right now, holding the title in his weight class. He lives and breathes fighting. When he’s not fighting, he’s fucking. And when he’s not doing one of those, he’s hanging out with Lexi and me. Mason is a good guy but he doesn’t take anything seriously except for fighting, and even that to him is one big game he’s damn good at.
Lexi comes back in and starts scrubbing the wall. She huffs and puffs but she scrubs it down. I’m sure I should probably ground her for disobeying me but scrubbing the wall seems to be punishment enough.
“Hey Lex, when you’re done we need to go by the gym.”
“Ugh! I hate the gym, Dad. Can I stay home with Uncle Mason?” The older she gets, the more my daughter makes it known how much she hates the gym. As much as I love her being home with me, I think it’s time we find a compromise.
“How would you fe
el about going to preschool a couple days a week?”
She drops her sponge and turns to face me. “Yeah! That will be so fun. Micaela said she’s in school and loves it! She gets to color a whole lot.” Lexi’s eyes light up and I make a mental note to look up different preschools in the area, and make sure they allow coloring. I have no clue what going to preschool entails these days.
“Okay, I’ll look some up. But Lexi, no more coloring on anything that isn’t paper. Got it?”
“Got it.”
I get back from the gym and find Mason watching a basketball game. Lexi isn’t anywhere around so I’m assuming she’s asleep. I can’t get Charlie off my damn mind and before I can give it any more thought, I say, “If I can get Morgan to watch Lexi, will you come to Plush with me?”
“Hell yes! That’s what I’m talking about.”
“Whatever it is you’re thinking, isn’t going to happen. I only want to go so I can find Charlie. I said something to her…something kind of rude, and I want to apologize.”
“The other night at the club?”
“No. You know how I mentioned Lexi and I ran into her the other day at Jumpin’ Java?”
“Yeah, she and Lexi talked about art, and then you left without getting her number.”
“Right…well, Lexi invited her to the library on Saturday for her contest and I made a stupid comment about making sure she doesn’t bring her job around my daughter.”
Mason whistles, shaking his head. “And how did she react to that?”
“She promised not to teach Lexi how to pole dance,” I say dryly, which has Mason cracking up.
“I like this woman already.” Mason heads to his room to shower and change while I text Morgan. She texts back she’s home studying and can be here in twenty minutes.
We get to the club and head right up to the second floor. When I don’t spot her anywhere, I find a bouncer who’s standing guard and ask for Charlie.
