Ink Slapped

by A. M. Jones

  I’m sitting in the car, working on my nerves, when laughter draws my attention. Swallowing a lump, I watch as Madison and Eli make their way from his truck. He looks good with his denim jeans and a dark button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled below the elbow showcasing his forearms. Actually, they both look good—like a happily married couple as their smiles flash at each other.

  I tap out a text on my phone, feeling like a harlot for trying to interrupt their moment.

  Thanks for the emblem.

  A second later, Eli pulls his phone from his pocket. He pauses, staring down at it. The glow lights his face. He smiles for a split second and then it slips. Madison says something to him, and he fists the phone and follows her to the stairs.

  My eyes burn, and then they water when a text doesn’t come through. He hasn’t returned any of my texts and now, I’m sitting in his parking lot like a creep. It makes me relive Friday when I met Madison.

  “I can’t stay, but do you have something to write on?” I asked. She tried to seem like she knew her way around, but she had to riffle through a few drawers before she found an old notepad and pen.

  “So, how do you know Eli?” She sauntered to her lounge chair in the sun, gripping and twisting her long hair before tossing it over her shoulder.

  “He posed for a book cover.” I scribbled a note, wanting to get out of here.

  She was ready to drink coconut water, but held the bottle in front of her mouth, looking at me sharply. “You’re T.M. Dabney?”

  I figured this a rhetorical question and didn’t answer. I didn’t know what to think about her knowing who I am.

  She rubbed her arms like she needed to rub in her lotion more. “I pictured you middle-aged and f—” She gave me another once over. “I’m his wife.”

  I winked, moving to open the door. “I know. Tell Eli I’m sorry I couldn’t wait.”

  I blow a harsh breath, willing myself to be happy they’re trying to work on things. Marriage is a constant effort if my relationship with Adrian is anything to go by. I can admit it is time to let go even though I’ll miss him. Miss his smile, the way he smells like motor oil and citrus when he’s been working, the way he makes me laugh, his enthusiasm with my writing, but his support and understanding of what it takes to be an artist. With our attraction aside, I’ve never had a friend like him and it’s a shame to lose it so quickly. Best thing to do is to leave him be.

  The next day the cover hits it big and my pre-orders skyrocket. Adrian and I hashed things out this morning. A compromise of sorts. I’ll get a new car when I need one with our money. Adrian seemed elated when I offered the truce flag. Then we spent extra time in the bed and shower working on our appetites for the breakfast he cooked. A great Monday if I say so myself.

  I’m on cloud nine upon entering my mom’s restored plantation house—the only thing left of my dad and the divorce. Besides me.

  Mom stands with her arms crossed. Her blond hair is turning white at the roots, which she has pulled back under a headband. Even with a dishtowel hanging over her shoulder, she’s put together—a real Southern Belle.

  She smiles as I shut the door, but it’s not a happy smile. My good mood evaporates. “Why?” Grabbing my hand, she glares at the ring.

  “Who told you?”

  Dropping my hand and throwing her fists on her hips, she spits, “Savannah!”

  Note to self: Kill Savannah. Who am I kidding? I don’t have the guts. New note to self: Kill Savannah, slowly and torturously, in my next novel.

  “Now answer my question. Why?”

  I move through her country-style foyer and into the kitchen with the old wood floor crackling the whole way. “We’ve been together five years. It’s the next step. In the old days, I’d be considered an old maid,” I say the last to bring a smile to her face, but she’s not amused.

  “You know how I feel about this, Taylor. You don’t even live with him.” My lips pinch, and I know she’s about to let me have it. “Oh!” Wrist bangles clang together as she throws her arms in the air.

  Pushing past me, she takes a casserole dish from the oven and slams it on the vintage wood stove. The metallic clang echoes through the kitchen. “I thought you listened. You know men are only good for one thing, and most aren’t even good at that. Just screw them a few times a week and send their asses home.” She slaps the dishtowel on the counter, crossing her arms and leaning her hip against the center island. “And you know, I think you’re only marrying him for that exact reason. You think you'll end up like me.”

  “Ma, don’t be ridiculous. I don’t need your man-hating attitude right now. I’m having a tough time as it is.”

  She freezes with the cutlery drawer wide open. Her eyes soften and she sniffs. “I imagine you are. You hated when I’d rearrange the linen closet, so moving to New York must be hell.”

  “You know about New York.”

  She grunts and dishes out white cheddar macaroni and cheese. The mac is dotted with jalapeños and chicken. My mouth waters. “It’s not the moving that pisses me off.” She slams my plate in front of me. “He knew you’d say yes if he asked you in front of his family.”

  Taking a huge bite of the comfort food, I know she’s right. “Maybe I needed the push. Relationships take work. It’s not all about butterfly feelings, rainbows, and unicorns. Eventually butterflies die, rainbows fade, and the unicorns fart.” If this week has taught me anything, it’s that.

  Her lips turn up in amusement, but her smile dissipates fast. “True, but have you even had those with Adrian?”

  Her question makes me clink the fork to the plate. Have I?

  My expression causes her to smile wide, making me to look down at my food. “Your silence just proved my point.” She places her hand on top of mine and squeezes. “I love you… will you think about it more?” I nod, even though that’s all I’ve been thinking about.

  On Friday, I’m going over next year’s calendar and have scheduled book events and writing conferences. My palms clam up at the thought. My lips hurt from biting them. I shake my hands. This is my future. I’m the only one who can make it great. I don’t know if I’m nervous about the events or what I’m about to do. Probably both.

  I’ve come to an important decision—a decision that’s been weighing on me since Eli called me a doormat. And my mother? The thing is she wouldn’t know love if it bit her in the ass. This is the reason I suspect my dad left her. I admit to being in a relationship with Adrian over the sheer fact I don’t want to be anything like her. From the age of nine and up, I can’t count how many new daddies were willing to play the part while my real father was making a name for himself in the hills of Hollywood. If I’m going to marry, it’s only going to be once and it won’t be with any doubts. If I always have doubts, oh well.

  I’m in my early thirties so there’s no need to lie to myself any longer. Might as well get the inevitable over with and start living my life. I shut my computer and pull out my phone for a much-needed conversation while I have the nerve.

  I delete Adrian’s name from my favorites speed dial and then dial him. He answers right away, “Hey babe, I’m on my way. Need anything?”

  “I need a pack of cigarettes.”

  “T—”

  “But I’ll get those on my own when I leave my apartment. In the time I’m away, I want you to pack your shit and leave.” This isn’t the best way to do it, but I have to in order to stay disengaged from him. He’ll only try to talk me out of it.

  Silence. “I can explain,” he says with a thick voice.

  “What do you mean, you can explain? Explain what?” I ask with a certain premonition.

  The engine of his car accelerates. “I love you, T. Just wait… we’ll talk when I get there.” He sounds panicked.

  “You didn’t?” I whisper.

  “Wait. She didn’t tell you?”

  My stomach sinks to new depths. “Yes,” I lie.

  “It was a mistake. I know it. Savannah knows it. We were drunk.�
� And that one little statement pinpoints when it happened. It makes me wonder if he proposed out of guilt. No wonder he was such an ass to Eli.

  My eyes burn, but not with hurt. With fury. “If you loved me, you would read my books. If you loved me, you would’ve made our engagement a private moment. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have fucked my best friend! Just leave, Adrian.” I hate my shaking voice. “You should’ve never moved in with me knowing this would blow up in your face.”

  I hang up and throw on some boots. The ring sits on the counter and I look at it for a long while. Grabbing my wristlet and bag, I leave the apartment and don’t look back.

  Months pass. The green on the trees change to the warm colors of autumn.

  My focus stays on writing and getting everything in line for next year’s events. The other half of my time is spent with photography sessions. My bills still need to be paid. Food’s low on the priority list. I pretty much live on caffeine and nicotine. Although I’m trying to quit smoking, I haven’t yet. I will by this year’s end.

  Savannah’s been a no show. If she knows about my break up with Adrian, she’s yet to contact me, but I know she talks to my mom. I would care, but at least she’s keeping her distance. She knows me well enough to know I’ll talk to her when I’m ready.

  It was harder to get rid of Adrian than I thought, but I can say he’s in New York without me. It took me a few weeks of him begging to realize I kind of missed him, but not Adrian himself. I missed his body. My body missed his body. I’ve had those needs taken care of for so long, I don’t know what to do with myself now. Well, I do, but it’s not the same.

  No one in Tainted District or anyone associated with them knows I never moved to New York—including Crockett. I swear to myself on a daily basis I’ll reconcile with him as soon as my creative flow slows down. I’m close to finishing the Eli-inspired book, which I’ve passed on to a few trusted betas—test readers—and now I’m working on the sixth and final installment of my Death to Demon series.

  My character Jaxon is botched because of my feelings for Eli and the final book is taking longer to write than I estimated. I keep giving him mannerisms that don’t belong to him like running his hands through his hair, and I’ve even had to delete a couple of dialogue lines of, “You don’t say?”

  This brings me to another reason I haven’t contacted them—it’s easier for Eli if I evade him. Forever or not, I’m not sure. During our few short weeks of constant friendship, Eli got under my skin, in my head, and buried himself there—not that he did it on purpose. The truth is he’s difficult to forget and I miss him. And without Adrian to help keep me reigned in, I’m afraid any time around Eli will amount to irreparable moral damage.

  Of course, I keep track of Tainted District. I received a call from Marcus who told me the boys accepted his proposition but Eli went a step further and bargained a deal for studio time. Eli’s newfound focus has done a lot for the band. They’ve booked into new venues four to five nights a week. Their social media following is growing by the day, and Eli does a great job of interacting with fans through the platforms. All the pictures he posts are amazing. He’s happy, busy, and doing what he loves to do best. I don’t want to screw with that.

  I’m reading Eli’s latest tweets when a loud bang sounds at the door. My heart jump starts. No one knows I’m still here and my mother would have called. And Savannah is dead to me, since I killed her, not once but twice, in the final installment. I might make it a third by the time it’s all said and done.

  Crockett stands in the hall, glaring straight into the peephole as if he knows I’m peeking. He crosses his arms and taps his long fingers on his bicep.

  “Shit,” I breathe and open the door.

  Crockett’s eyes widen. “Oh, heeeeeeeeell no!” he drawls and pushes past me. “I knew I saw your 4Runner, you sneaky bitch.” His eyes dart around my apartment. “Where’s Adrian?”

  “In New York.”

  He smiles slow and calculating, but then he inspects me and grimaces. “When’s the last time you had a shower?” He twirls a piece of my limp hair between his fingers. “And what’s this? A natural blond?”

  Smacking his hand away, I defend myself. “I’ve been productive in the writing hole, and I need a change, so I’m growing my natural color out.”

  “Um… no.” He produces his phone, and I have the urgent impulse to wrench it from his hands. His thumbs tap the keyboard, and he nods. “There, you have an appointment with my hairdresser. He’s good.” He moves his head as if he’s flipping long hair and laughs at himself. “Anyway, gotta get you ready for the big shindig. You can have it dyed back. You look like you have a bald spot.”

  I almost laugh, but his words sink in. “What shindig?”

  “Some friends of mine throw a big Halloween party every year. What’s cool is they pick a theme. This year’s theme is book characters, inspired by you, luscious. Therefore, you have to go. I was gonna see if you could fly down, anyway.”

  “That’s less than a week away.”

  “Yup.” I realize I’m chewing on my finger when he pulls my hand from my mouth. Amusement lights his features and he shakes his sandy hair out of his eyes. “Worried?” he asks and laughs when I focus on him with my brows raised. “Go ahead. You can ask.”

  “Ask what?”

  He sighs. “Eli will be there, but he’ll be happy to see you. And my friends want to meet you. We’ve all read your books and are impatiently awaiting the sixth, I might add.” The way he says friends has my pulse elevating. I’m not sure how Eli will take to seeing me, considering he cut me off altogether. A clean break, but I understand why he did it.

  “Will, uh, Madison be there?” I keep myself from fidgeting, not sure how I feel about the idea.

  “Doubtful, since she’s got tension going on with my friends at the moment. I’m sure she thinks she’s too important for a country bumpkin Halloween party.”

  I sit on the couch and wrap my arms around myself. “So, they are back together?”

  “You know, I’m not sure. She hasn’t been with the band, but I know they’ve been talking more. He’s just so busy barking orders at us, that anything personal hasn’t come up. Oh, speaking of, we’re recording our album this week.” Crockett beams, and his smile so brilliant and bright, my heart melts and then swells twice its size.

  “I know, I follow Tainted District on Twitter. Congrats, not only on the album but your venue expansion.”

  He grins. “It was weird at first, playing at other places, but now we have a little money in our pockets and we have more than a handful of fans who follow us.” He snaps his fingers. “All right about the party. Jack, Milo, and I are going as Scarecrow, Tin Man, and the Lion. That makes you our Dorothy.”

  “And what about Eli?”

  Crockett’s eyes take on a mischievous glint. “He’s going as Jaxon.”

  Her hips slam down, and a second later, her body clenches as she spasms on top of me. The world falls away as intense pleasure rips through my body.

  Breathless and sweaty, she collapses on my chest. I sweep damp hair from her face as she looks at me with a grin. “Damn, baby,” she whispers before meeting my lips with hers.

  “Mornin’,” I mutter, glancing away and sliding from underneath her body. I toss the condom in the bathroom trashcan. I’m pulling on my boxers as she sashays through the door.

  “Want to shower? I can help you get ready for your big day.”

  “You go ahead. I need to call Milo.”

  She cocks her head with a worried look just as I shut the door, blocking her out and wishing I could turn back time. It wasn’t so long ago when I’d have given my right testicle to have Madison doting on me. But she’s right about today.

  I grin and dial Milo. “Yeah?” Excitement laces his voice, and I have to admit, I’m excited, too.

  “Hey, everything good to go for the party?”

  “Drum kit’s in the van. The guys want to meet for breakfast before going to the
studio. You in?”

  I pause, listening to the shower run in the bathroom. “I’m in.”

  After disconnecting, I open the bathroom door. “I’m meeting the guys for breakfast before we hear the final tracks.”

  She takes a long time to answer. Her head pokes out of the shower curtain. She plants a smile on her face. To anyone who didn’t know her, it’d look genuine. “If you wait a few, I’ll be ready to go with.”

  “To breakfast?”

  “No, silly, to the studio.” She tilts her head to rinse her hair.

  I grip the door handle tighter. “I don’t like that idea.”

  “Why not? I know the ropes.”

  “That’s why I don’t like the idea.” I’m treading water here. She hasn’t mentioned the collaboration in a while, but she’s acting like she didn’t leave us for the greener grass. “This is Tainted District’s day. Leave it alone.”

  The shower cuts and she jerks the curtain open. She stands, posed for a second before wrapping herself in a towel. “Are you still not over that? I’m just trying to be supportive, Eli. Jesus Christ.”

  I sigh, hoping and trusting she’s telling the truth. “You coming to the party tonight?”

  Her eyes narrow and her lips pinch. “No, I never feel wanted there and you know it.”

  “That’s not true.” This is another reason I can’t trust her motivation for working on our marriage. She can come to the music studio with us, but not my parents’ house? Speaking of my parents, I’m not sure what she expects from them, but ever since the court proceedings and all our shit that went down, they’ve been less than happy about it. Although, they haven’t treated her any differently there’s a tension in the air that’s more Madison than them. “I wish you’d go. It would let them know how much we’re working on us.”

  Her eyes soften. Could be my words or could be because she’s rubbing woman junk on her face. “I have another event or I would.” I turn on the shower again, slipping out of my boxers. She smiles at me in the mirror. I return it. “Tell them I said hey, for me?”