House of Payne: Sage

by Stacy Gail

  “I didn’t know you were dreading tonight.” Wrapping her up, he rolled so that they were on their sides, their bodies still connected. “If you’ve got any other family get-togethers on the calendar, I need to know so I can be there with you. You’re not facing that guy all by yourself ever again.”

  “That guy is my dad, Sage.”

  “You share some genes with him, but that doesn’t mean you owe him anything. Until he gets his head out of his ass, he can’t be trusted around you. That’s why I’m going to be there every damn time there’s even a chance of you two meeting up again.”

  “Yeah?” An unbearably sweet wave moved through her, so hard and fast it took her breath away. She caught his hand in his, marveled at how it made her own hand look almost doll-like by comparison, before she brought it to her mouth. “Are you trying to be my hero?”

  “I’m not trying to do anything. I’m doing it. And right now,” he added, rolling so that he was once again over her and pressing her into the mattress, “I’m all about doing you.”

  She wasn’t at all surprised when her soft laughter turned into moans.

  Chapter Ten

  “I just had to call to see if you were okay, Rena.” Phone pressed to her ear, Mads quickly crossed the employee’s parking lot behind House Of Payne, head ducked against the frigid wind that held the promise of snow. “I feel terrible that everything fell apart last night. You worked so hard on that wonderful meal, and you had the house looking so nice and welcoming. You must be furious with Dad and me.”

  “I’m furious with Dad and Sage, not you.” Her sister’s exasperated voice came through clearly as Mads made her way into the building to the coatrack positioned under the metal and glass brick staircase. “And to be honest I can’t really be mad at Sage, because he was defending you and your art. I guess I’m really just mad at Dad because he’s so—ugh.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “You know what was the final cherry on top last night?” her sister went on, clearly revving up to let off some steam. “After you guys left, Dad had the audacity to act like he had no fucking clue why Sage jumped all over him.”

  Mads ground her teeth together. “You’re kidding me.”

  “Nope. I’m telling you, that man has the whole victim thing down pat. Worse yet, he’s totally comfortable with it, you know? He flipped that switch the moment the door shut behind you and Sage and started acting all innocent, like he had no frigging idea why Sage would ever attack a sweet, little soul like him. That’s the word he used, by the way—attacked. I was so angry with him I could barely speak.”

  “I don’t think Sage needs to ever know about that,” Mads muttered, switching the phone from one hand to the other as she took her jacket off. “Dad didn’t even cop to making fun of my art?”

  “Oh, you know his old song and dance better than anyone—he was kidding, no one can take a joke, the problem is you, not him. Only this time I’m not letting that crap slide, because this time I flat-out saw what he was doing. He wasn’t kidding, and his words sure as hell weren’t funny. They were cruel, and deep down I think he realizes he acted like a total dick.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, he had trouble looking me in the eye after you left. So… that’s something.”

  “It’s something, all right.” She would have loved to point out that their father was still trying to spin it that he was the victim, but instead bit her tongue. After Serena’s carefully planned dinner party blew up in her face, her sweet sister deserved a break. “By the way, I was serious about having dinner over at my place next weekend for you, me and Sage, and any date you might want to bring. Dad’s definitely off the guest list, though. I’ve had my fill of him for a while.”

  “But you obviously haven’t had your fill of Sage,” came the sly remark. “After I got over wanting to kill both him and Dad, I realized how protective Sage is when it comes to you, Mads. He’s really serious about you, isn’t he?”

  “I don’t know if serious is the right word.” But Mads couldn’t keep a smile from appearing as she climbed the stairs on her way to punch in. “He did spend the night though, so there’s that.”

  Her sister’s intake of breath came through loud and clear. “Oh my God. Details. I need details.”

  All too vividly the memory of the heaven Sage had given her time and again—and again—flashed through her mind, but she shook her head. Some things were too personal to share even with her sister. “Let’s just say we’re really good together.”

  “No, no, you can’t get away with just that, girl. How good is good?”

  “My toes are curling just thinking about it.”

  “Wow,” her sister breathed. “I like him, Mads. I mean, I was mad at him last night, but when I calmed down and realized how he became your knight in shining armor, I just sort of melted. Being all protective is the sexiest thing a man can do.”

  “I can protect myself, Rena.”

  “Yeah, but when a man puts himself in the role of protector, it means he’s doing it because he’s protecting something that’s important to him. Someone who’s important to him. That’s what’s sexy about it.”

  “Yeah,” Mads murmured, while her sister’s words sank in deep and spread a magical kind of warmth through her whole body. “I just never imagined having anyone like that—you know, protective—in my life. Probably because I’ve never wanted something like that.”

  Her sister’s scoff of disbelief came through loud and clear. “How could you not want a protective partner? That’s what everybody dreams of.”

  “You know what I’ve always wanted? To avoid any long-term, messy relationships that would in all probability turn into a sad and tawdry rerun of what Mom and Dad put themselves—and us—through when they decided to break up. The shit they put each other through because they once loved each other… ugh. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. Which, apparently, could become the very person you once loved.”

  Her sister made a dubious sound. “Granted, when they went sour, they made sure everything around them soured too, but I think that was just who they were. Not all relationships end like that. In fact, there are some relationships that don’t end, period. Just because we’re the offspring of two of the most miserable human beings when it comes to ending a relationship doesn’t mean we’re destined to follow in their footsteps.”

  “I didn’t say that we were. I’ve just never imagined that I was the type to ever throw myself into a relationship like I have with Sage. I’m more into taking it step by teeny baby step, you know?”

  “Oh, do I know that about you,” came the drawling reply. “That’s why I’m so pleased you found someone who jumps to your defense whenever he thinks there’s a dragon to slay. That kind of thing, Mads, is all that I would want for you in a man.”

  It was crazy, how wonderful her sister was. “Yeah?”

  “You know it, hon. Sadly, I don’t have anyone like that in my life, so I’ll be flying solo this weekend, if that’s okay. At the moment all I have is a dragon.”

  “What dragon?”

  “Oh, a helicopter father of a kid who arrived on my floor. Apparently he’s part owner of the freaking hospital or something, so he expects me and everyone else to tend to his every whim instead of making the rounds for all our patients. For crying out loud, his kid fell off a skateboard and is going to be discharged tomorrow. We’re not talking life and death here.”

  “Hopefully that dragon flies away from you without scorching too much earth.” She entered the breakroom, only to find a handful of her fellow tattooists and Scout in a loose knot near the main table. Maybe it was her imagination but Mads could have sworn the atmosphere was downright scary, so she did her best to become invisible and made a beeline for the timeclock. Much to her dismay, Scout broke away and headed in her direction. “Listen, I’m at work now, so I’ve got to bounce. Talk later?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll let you know if my dragon goes all dracarys on me
.”

  Mads wasn’t sure if she should try on a smile when she turned to Scout while punching in. Would smiling make whatever was pissing off her coworkers go away? “So,” she began brightly, hoping to put off whatever doom and gloom was going on, “I forgot to ask how you liked the coconut macaroons.”

  Scout rolled her eyes heavenward. “The best I’ve ever eaten, and that’s saying something since I’m a coconut macaroon freak. Anytime you feel like whipping up a batch, I certainly wouldn’t say no to taking a few off your hands.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “As much as I’d love to talk about cookies, I’m actually making the rounds with everyone who signed up to donate artwork to the charity auction, just to make sure everyone’s on the same page.”

  Okay. That didn’t sound too bad. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

  “Because every damn time we do this auction there’s always some yahoo who claims they didn’t know when the artwork was supposed to be due, or that they didn’t understand what the word original meant when they agreed to donate original artwork. Last year our sports tattooist nearly came to blows with Payne over the word likeness.”

  “Yikes.”

  “Tell me about it. I had to listen to those two argue, in public, over what was essentially a painting of the Chicago Bears logo—not original art, and not a likeness of original art—before Raider quit for a week. This year I’m trying to avoid all that madness by making sure everyone is clear on the rules, and that you know when it’s supposed to be turned in.”

  Mads plucked out her phone and thumbed her calendar app. “The auction is two weeks from Friday, right? I’ll definitely have it to you by then.”

  “Actually,” Scout said on a slight wince, making Mads instinctively brace for impact, “all the artists need to have their work turned in a week from Friday.”

  Mads almost dropped her phone. “Wait, what?”

  “See, Scout?” One of the tattooists Scout had left behind—Mads thought his name might be Cash—flung a sleeved-out arm her way. “That’s my point right there. No one’s going to put up with this off-the-cuff, last-minute shit.”

  Mads held up a hand. “Wait, I didn’t say—”

  “We’re not House Of Payne’s trained dogs who exist just to jump through whatever goddamn hoops you and Payne decide to set up for us,” another tattooist by the name of Twist growled, looking sinister. “I know you don’t understand what a shitty deal this is since you’re not an artist, Scout, but Payne sure as hell should. Creativity isn’t something you can just turn on like a fucking tap. Hell, I’ve been working on my project since the beginning of December, and so has Angel, and we were cool with the target date. But now you’re jacking us around by upping the delivery date on us, and suddenly the pressure’s on. Pro tip—that’s not how you get artists to produce quality art.”

  “Pro tip, Twist—don’t tell me how to do my fucking job,” Scout snarled back, and Mads was amazed Twist didn’t even flinch. When Scout decided to be in a mood, there was nothing scarier. “The due date for all paintings got bumped up a week because we’re having the art professionally matted and framed, all right? That means no oil-based masterpieces. Just stuff that’ll be dry and ready to be put under glass and shown off to the best of our ability for all of your admiring fans. If you don’t like it, pull your shit.”

  “If I feel my piece isn’t ready, then fine,” Twist yelled furiously. “That’s exactly what I’ll fucking do.”

  “Just know that you’re going to be the one to tell Payne about it,” Scout said, lifting a shoulder like she wasn’t overly concerned with artistic tantrums. “Like you said, I’m no artist so I don’t get how one week is something to get so over-the-top upset about. What you can do is explain it to Payne. You’re the one who can tell him that you’re going to leave a huge hole in an auction that helps feed and clothe the homeless. I’m sure he’ll be fine with that.”

  “Fuck,” Twist raged, while Cash turned and kicked a chair halfway across the room. “Fuck this shit.”

  “Oh, and by the way,” Scout added, unfazed by their response and clearly intent on making sure everyone had a crystal-clear view of the situation, “your name is already out there in the press release showcasing the auction’s participating artists. All your names are out there. But if you really want to pull your art and potentially damage your own reputations, then there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “Holy shit.” Mads put a hand to her brow while the other artists turned the air blue. She’d had plans on getting something knocked out this past weekend, but obviously that ship had sailed. She’d spent the majority of her time dreading Rena’s now-infamous family dinner, and all of last night in bed with Sage. Not that she had any regrets there, but… “I’m going to be honest here. I didn’t know this auction thing was going to be this insane when I signed up.”

  “Blame Payne,” Scout muttered, looking like she’d bitten down on shards of glass. “It was his bright idea to throw this monkey wrench at me when I walked in this morning. If you all want to yell at him, I’ll be happy to back you up. Just know it won’t change anything.”

  “This is bullshit,” Twist announced, looking downright scary. “You’ll get my project when you get it, Scout. I’m not fucking kidding.”

  “Don’t tell me, tell Payne. In fact,” Scout added, turning to hit everyone with a hard stare, “feel free to march into his office right now and have at it. I’ll even hold the door open for you.”

  “Hell, yeah, I’m going to go yell at him,” Cash said with a sharp nod. “He’s supposed to be a fucking artist himself, but maybe he’s not that much of one if he’s forgotten you can’t rush true art.”

  If possible, Twist’s expression grew darker. “Don’t even think about playing that card, unless you want your ass kicked out the nearest door. Payne’s the kind of artist that can produce quality art in a fucking coma.”

  “I’d have to agree with Twist on that.” The words were out of Mads’s mouth before she knew she was going to speak. A pang of guilt echoed through her, and she knew exactly what it was—a poisonous remnant of her blind loyalty to her father. But damn it, she wasn’t nine years old anymore. Reality didn’t square with what her father had told her, so it was about time she started seeing things as they were. “Sebastian Payne has so much creative talent boiling away in him, he cranks out art like a frigging machine. I wouldn’t even blink if he popped off a faceplate and showed he was nothing but gears and circuitry underneath it all. The guy’s a weird-ass art dynamo.”

  “Exactly.” Twist nodded while Scout turned and regarded her with narrowed, thoughtful eyes. “I’d be willing to bet that this goddamn schedule-change has come up because Payne doesn’t understand why other artists struggle with being put behind the eight-ball like this. But that’s exactly what he’s doing, Scout,” he added, forcing the other woman’s attention back to him. “He’s in the wrong to fuck around with us like this.”

  “Who’s fucking around with us?” The breakroom door opened, and Sage walked in with Talon and Twist’s wife, Angel, an ethereal woman with waist-long platinum and pink dreadlocks and dreamy eyes. When Mads had first met her, she’d suspected the other woman was part fairy. Now that she’d known Angel for a few months, she was convinced of it. “What are we missing?”

  “Brace yourself,” Mads warned, even as she moved to Sage’s side to make sure he didn’t explode like Mt. Vesuvius. “Payne has decided that all the auction art pieces must be completed and ready to go a week earlier than scheduled. Does this include drying and curing time?” she added to Scout, who nodded.

  “It does.”

  “Fuck that shit,” Sage said bluntly, his relaxed expression immediately going into eclipse. “I’ve barely begun my metal sculpture.”

  “The sculpture can be delivered by the originally scheduled time,” Scout assured him, holding up a hand. “But all paintings, drawings and sketches are to be submitted early for framing. Payne’s shelling o
ut serious coin so that everyone’s artwork has that museum-quality look.”

  “Frames are for pussies.” Talon announced this like it was a fact that everyone should know. “Anyone who frames their art is trying to cover up how shitty their work actually is.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about frames.” Sage made a sound of impatience before turning on his heel and heading for the door. “All I know is that I’m not going to be jacked around like this.”

  “Sage, wait.” Hurriedly Mads followed him out the door and almost ran just to keep pace with him. It didn’t surprise her in the least that when she glanced back, everyone trailed in their wake. Great. All they needed were pitchforks and torches, and they’d be all set. “Take a breath, okay? Be calm.”

  “I am calm. This is me being calm.” With that, he shoved open the double doors leading to Payne’s office and barreled through straight to the glass and chrome desk. “What the actual fuck do you think you’re playing at, asshole?”

  Mads tried not to facepalm.

  Sage “the rage machine” was officially in the house.

  So much for being calm.

  Payne, seated behind the desk, took in the flood of tattooists coming in through the doors before raising a brow to Scout, who came to a halt off to the side of his desk. “I take it you told them about the schedule change?”

  She smirked. “I hate to say I told you so, but…”

  “Uh-huh.” Grim-faced. Payne rose to his feet. “First off, call me asshole again and you and I are going to have to take it outside, got that?”

  “I have no fucking problem with that—”

  “Second thing,” Payne bellowed over Sage’s wild-eyed raving, “remember the fiasco that went down last year with this auction? We wound up looking like fucking amateur hour in front of the whole goddamn world, and why was that? I’ll tell you why. Shit didn’t get turned in. Other shit getting turned in but done in such a sloppy, half-assed manner there were some pieces that would’ve looked better hanging on refrigerators instead of our gallery’s walls.”