Tall, Tatted and Tempting

by Tammy Falkner

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  For the next four hours, we change my hair color back to its natural shade, paint my nails a glossy pink instead of black—“because we don’t want to buck the system but just so much”—and she sends someone to get me a new outfit. She has a flock of people doing her bidding.

  When we’re done, I feel like my old self. But I’m not. I never will be.

  We pull up to our house, and the gates are open. I’m so confused. There are news vans everywhere. “What’s this, Mom?” I ask.

  “This is me handling this situation for you.” She absently runs a hand down the length of my hair. “You’re a smart girl, Emily. You can make your own choices.”

  Tears prick at the back of my eyelids. I’m a smart girl. Someone other than Logan said it.

  Logan

   

  I’m terrified. Emily is gone, but her guitar is still here. She was gone before I got up this morning. Her black bag is gone, too. And all of her belongings, except her guitar. She wouldn’t have left, would she? Not for good.

  Paul sits beside me on the couch, and he knocks my hand from my mouth when I chew my fingernails. “She’ll be back,” he says. “Stop worrying.”

  She won’t be back. I’m sure of it. I realized that by telling me her name last night and letting me inside her, she wasn’t telling me she loves me. She was telling me good-bye. It hurts like nothing ever has when I realize that, but it’s true. I’m sure of it.

  The phone rings. I jump when the lights flash, signaling the ringer. Paul runs to answer it. “Matt says to turn on the news,” Paul says, as he turns the TV on and flips the channel.

  The new anchor starts to talk. I read the captions as they play across the bottom of the screen.

  “In celebrity news today, the prodigal daughter of one of the United States’s most influential businessman has been found alive.”

  “What does this have to do with us?” I ask Paul.

  “You may remember the media circus more than six months ago when Emily Madison disappeared.”

  The TV switches to a picture of a blonde.

  Paul slaps my chest hard to get my attention. It hurts like a motherfucker, but my gaze is stuck on the TV.

  “Emily Madison vanished more than six months ago, but she returned home today.”

  “That’s my Emily,” I breathe. Her hair is blond. And she has on a million-dollar smile, along with some million-dollar earrings.

  Paul smacks me harder so I have to look at him. “That’s Kit?” he asks.

  I wave at him to shut him up. He turns the TV up. I watch the words at the bottom of the screen. I scoot forward so my ass is balanced on the edge of the couch.

  “Emily has agreed to answer a few questions.”

  I watch as the woman I love steps up to the podium. She blinks and holds her hand up to block the sun. I can see the freckles across the bridge of her nose, and my heart lurches. She’s in California.

  “Good afternoon,” she says.

  The crowd starts firing off questions. They only print the ones in the captions that get to her.

  “Where have I been?” she repeats. “I have been in New York for six months. There’s a bit of a story to go with that, but I won’t bore you with it. Sometimes a girl just needs a break.” The captions indicate that she’s laughing, but there’s no laughter in her eyes.

  “Are you well, Emily?” someone asks.

  “I’m perfectly well,” she says, smiling. “Never been better.”

  “Are you mentally ill, Emily? Did you have a breakdown? Have you been in rehab?”

  She looks at the person with surprise. “The last time I checked, I wasn’t.” She looks down at her body and pats her hips and stomach. “No, I think I’m quite well.”

  “Was there foul play, Emily?”

  She shakes her head. “No. No foul play. I was perfectly safe the whole time.”

  Someone steps up to the podium to pull Emily away, and I ache as I watch her take a step back. One more question scrolls across the screen.

  “What are your plans for the future, Emily?”

  She smiles. Then she looks directly into the camera, directly at me. She might as well have kicked me in the gut. “In the spring, I’m going to Julliard to study music.”

  My stomach drops down toward my toes.

  “Why New York, Emily?” someone asks before she can walk away.

  She tilts her head to the side and looks right at me again. She raises her hand into the sign for I love you and I see the tattoo that takes up her forearm. It’s a key, and written down the center of the key shaft are the letters of my name.

  I look at Paul. “Did you do that?”

  He grins and shrugs. “It’s nothing.”

  It’s everything. It’s every fucking thing.

  The reporter repeats the question. “Why New York, Emily?”

  “That’s simple,” she says. “It’s because I love New York. I love New York with all my heart, and I can’t wait to get back to it. I needed to come see my Dad so he could take care of something for me, but I’m going back to New York.” She leans close to the microphone. “I love you New York. Never doubt it. I’ll see you soon.”

  Then she waves, and she’s gone.

  I fall back against the couch, trying to put it all together in my head.

  “Shit,” Paul says. “She paid for Matt’s treatment.”

  “What?” I’m still dumbfounded.

  “She went back home for you,” he explains. He still has Matt on the phone, and he’s talking to both of us at the same time.

  She did it all for me. “She did it for me,” I say out loud.

  “You lucky fucker,” Paul says, punching me in the arm.

  “She’ll be back for the spring session at Julliard.” Warm happiness settles around me like a blanket fresh out of the dryer.

  Paul nods. “Matt will be home by then.”

  We all hope Matt will be home by then. Matt has a chance to come home, and it’s all because of Emily. I jump up, and Paul pulls me into a hug.

  “She’ll be back?” I ask. I can’t wrap my head around it all. “She’s not gone for good?”

  “She just told the whole fucking world how much she loves you, you jackass.” Paul punches me in the shoulder again.

  She’s coming back. To Julliard. To me.

   

   

   

   

  Keep reading for a sneak peek at Chapter One of Smart, Sexy and Secretive, which will be out on August 26th, 2013

   

  Emily

   

  My dad doesn’t want me to go back to New York. He’s wholeheartedly opposed to it. But New York is where my heart is. It’s where Logan is. And we’re in a plane on our way there right now.

  I met Logan in the fall. He took care of me when I needed a place to stay, and I took care of him when his brother got sick with cancer. Matt needed an expensive medical treatment, and the only way to get the money was for me to suck it up and take one for the team. So, I did. I went back to California, leaving the only man I’ve ever loved in New York, and returned to my estranged family—the one I’d run away from. Matt went into treatment, paid for by my father, and Logan went on with his life.

  I have wanted to contact him so many times. But talking is difficult between us. Logan is deaf, and he communicates by writing. I have dyslexia, and reading is hard for me. So letters and phone calls are not possible for us. The Reed family is poor, and they don’t even have a computer. I considered buying them one and shipping it to them, so Logan and I could talk using sign language on Skype, but they are both poor and proud, which is a killer combination.

  It’s been almost three months since I last saw Logan. It has been just as long since I’ve talked to him. I want to look into his eyes. I need to see him. Soon.

  The pilot announces that we’ll be arriving in New York in twenty minutes over the intercom. Mom and Dad look over at me. Mom is smiling; Dad is not.
Dad’s bodyguard sets his newspaper to the side and buckles his seat belt. My dad has money. Lots and lots of money. My mom spends money. Lots and lots of money. I am so glad my mom married my dad because no other man on the face of the earth could ever afford her.

  Dad owns Madison Avenue. Not the street—the upscale clothing and accessory line. It’s a popular line of really expensive items that started in California and has now spread nationwide. My parents have more money than God.

  “Are you excited, Emily?” my mother asks as the wheels touch down. I take a deep breath. I can already breathe easier just knowing I’m in the same city as him.

  I look directly into her eyes since she knows how much I love Logan, and she’s actually in favor of us being together. “More than you know.”

  “I don’t know why you feel the need to go to college, Emily,” my father barks. “You could have just gotten married and lived a life of ease and privilege.”

  Last year, my dad tried to marry me off to the son of one of his business partners. That’s why I left California with nothing and took a bus all the way to New York. I didn’t take a dime of my father’s money, and I supported myself by busking in the subways with my guitar for change. My dad doesn’t know everything about my life away from him. Like how I lived in shelters when money was tight. And how I went for days without food sometimes. He chooses to think I lived an upscale life while I was away. But I didn’t. It was hard. I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything, though. Because it’s what brought me to Logan.

  God, I want to see him so badly. I want my parents to go away, too, but they want to see me settled into my new apartment. It’s around the corner from the college I’ll be attending, Julliard. I’ve always wanted to study music, and now I can. That was my mother’s doing.

  My mother smacks my father on the arm. It’s a breezy wave, but it gets his attention. “We’ve already discussed this, darling. She doesn’t want to get married. Least of all to the young Mr. Fields.”

  I snort. I wouldn’t marry that ass if he were the last man on earth.

  “Fields is a fine young man,” my father says. What’s really bad is that he believes it, even though Trip is really just an opportunistic asshole who wants to climb the financial ladder, and he wants to use me as the top rung. He’ll never get over this rung, I can say that much.

  “Mmm hmm,” I hum noncommittally.

  “Fields is an ass, darling,” my mother says. She gets her purse, and we disembark the plane. The limo is waiting for us outside, and we all slide in while someone I will never see unloads the luggage.

  “He blows his nose constantly, Dad,” I say. “And he doesn’t shower after he plays basketball.” And he called me stupid in front of all his friends. But we don’t talk about that part.

  My dad’s lips twitch. “That boy has a lot of potential. Great vision. He would make a fine husband.”

  What he means is that we could combine the two families like a business deal, increasing the net worth of both. I have no interest in being richer. In fact, the happiest time in my life was when I lived with Logan and his brothers. He has four of them—two older and two younger. They live alone since their mom died and their dad left. They don’t have much, but they love one another like crazy.

  My parents love me, but it’s not the same thing. Not by a long shot.

  “You should partner with him, Dad. Because I never will,” I grouse. I can’t count the number of times in the past few months I have had this conversation.

  My dad heaves a sigh. He is a master at business, but he knows very little about relationships.

  “Do you plan to see that boy while you’re here, Emily?” my dad asks.

  Only every chance I get, if he’ll have me. “I doubt he’ll want to see me. I left him without a single word and haven’t talked to him since.” He’s probably angry at me. So angry that he has moved on. My heart lurches at the very thought of it.

  I knew that I was giving Logan up when my dad paid for his brother’s treatment, but I didn’t think it would be permanent. I look down at the tattoo on my inner forearm. My father hates it; I love it. It’s a key with Logan’s name printed down the shaft. Logan unlocked my world. He accepted and loved me exactly as I am, or at least how he thought I was. I just hope he still does.

  It’s taking forever to get to my apartment. I have to listen to my dad talk about how fit Trip would be as a husband the whole ride. My mom makes a face at me. She makes me laugh. We have a new understanding since I spilled my guts to her after coming home. I think she gets it, and she’s on my side. But that doesn’t make things any better with my father.

  “If that boy is smart, he’ll stay far, far away from you,” my father nearly snarls. He’s adamantly opposed to me being with someone so poor.

  Logan is rich in all the ways I wish I were. He’s rich in family, steeped in love and compassion, and he loves what he does for a living. Logan’s an amazing artist, and he works at his family’s tattoo parlor, putting his fabulous art on people’s skin. The last time I talked to him, he wanted to go back to college. He got a scholarship, but he had to get a deferment when Matt got sick. They took out a lot of loans to pay for Matt’s first treatment, and when Matt couldn’t work anymore, Logan quit school and took over for him.

  “If that boy has any sense at all,” Mom says, “he’s just waiting for you to come back to New York.”

  I hope that’s the case. But so much can happen in three months. Women throw themselves at Logan every day. It’s asking an awful lot for him to wait for me for three full months while I find my way back to him.

  Mom pats Dad on the knee. “How is his brother doing, darling? I know you get reports.”

  I scoot to the edge of the seat. Please tell me he’s okay. Please. I have asked him this more times that I can count, and he refuses to answer me, reminding me of the bargain we made.

  “Fine.”

  That’s all he says. Just that one word. I flop against the seat back.

  “Elaborate, please,” my mom says, smiling at my dad.

  “The treatment is working, but he’s not out of the woods. He has to have scans every month, and then they’ll start spreading them out as time goes on.”

  My heart clenches in my chest. Matt is better. My sacrifice wasn’t for nothing. Tears start to burn my eyes, and Mom reaches over to squeeze my knee. “That’s good, darling,” she says to Dad. “I’m so glad you were able to help him.”

  “I did it so she would come back home,” he says. He glares at me. “Our deal was that she would come home, not go to Julliard.”

  Mom pats his knee again. “She did come home, darling. And now she’s going to Julliard.”

  “I just hope he stays away from her,” Dad grumbles, more to himself than to either me or Mom. We all know who he is. And he had better not stay away from me. Not for a day. Not for an hour. Not for a minute.

  We arrive at my apartment, and my dad scowls. “This is the best you could find?” He glowers at my mother.

  “It’s perfect,” I say. It’s pretty, with a small garden out front. I’m on the tenth floor, and that’s all right with me. There’s a doorman, an older gentleman, and he smiles at me, bowing to all of us as we walk into the building.

  “Ah, Mr. Madison,” he says. He knows who my dad is. He doesn’t hold out a hand, though he does take mine when I extend it. I am not better than this man, and I want him to know it. “Miss Madison,” he says, grinning at me. “Henry is my name.”

  “Mr. Henry,” I say, squeezing his hand in my grip.

  “Just Henry will do.” He looks over at my father’s scornful face.

  “Don’t make friends with the help, Emily,” my dad warns.

  Henry’s face falls.

  I wink at him. “I wouldn’t dare try to make friends with Henry,” I say. “He’s way too good for the likes of us.”

  Dad’s eyebrows draw together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Kindness trumps money,
Dad,” I say. I learned that the hard way. And even though I can’t read well, I feel so much smarter than my dad right now. I bump knuckles with Henry, and he smiles at me.

  He holds up a finger and goes to a locked box beside his desk. He retrieves a key. “I’ll be sure your luggage is delivered, Miss Madison.”

  “Thank you, Henry.” I wink at him again as my family walks to the elevator. He smiles back at me with genuine kindness.

  My parents are quiet on the ride up. My dad taps his thumb on the railing, and Mom just stands quietly.

  “I don’t know why you felt the need to come here. I can settle myself in.”

  “I’m not sending you off to a strange city all by yourself.” He glares. He knows I was all alone in this city last year. “That was your choice,” he says quietly. “Not mine.”

  I step up on my tippy toes and kiss his cheek. He looks down his nose at me, which makes me grin. “I’m glad you’re here.” I just hope they don’t stay long. I want to go see Logan. It’s Friday night, and he’s probably at the club working. He’s a bouncer there.

  My dad walks around my new apartment, appraising it with a critical eye. It was rented furnished, and it’s actually really cute. It has two bedrooms, and an alarm system that Homeland Security couldn’t beat.

  I wanted to be in the dorm, but Dad felt like it was a bad idea. At least I’m close to the school.

  My mom winks at me and then turns to Dad. “Darling, I think we should get to the hotel, soon.”

  He lifts an eyebrow. “Already?”

  “Yes.” She doesn’t say more than that. Just yes.

  Dad heaves a sigh. Then he kisses my forehead, wrapping my head up in the crook of his hefty forearm. “We’ll see you first thing tomorrow.”

  I nod. “I’ll be here.”

  “Are you sure you don’t need anything?” He worries. Excessively.

  I need Logan. That’s all I need. I shake my head.

  My mom whispers in my ear, “Use protection, dear.”

  A grin tugs at my lips. “Yes, Mom.”

  The door closes behind them. I need a shower, and I need to find Logan. I need him like I need air.

   

  Logan

   

  A hand lands on my back, its fingers light and teasing as someone draws a figure eight. I look back over my shoulder and flinch inwardly when I see Trish. I take her hand in mine and pluck it from my back, then set it to the side as gently as I can.

  “Oh, Logan,” she says, her lips tipped upward with laughter. I’m really glad I can’t hear because if her laugh is anything like her, it’d be as grating as that fake smile. It’s one of those smiles without any real happiness behind it. She puts her hand on my chest, her fingers pressing insistently against me. “How long are you going to pine for that girl? There are so many other fish in the sea.”

  I can talk, but sometimes I choose not to, and people accept it from me because I’m deaf. I lost my hearing when I was almost a teenager. I tap the face of my watch and look at her, arching my brow. She’s due back on stage in two minutes.

  She heaves a sigh and tromps off in that direction.

  If I had been forced to answer her question, I would have said “forever and always.” Emily is supposed to be back in New York any day now, as spring courses are starting at Julliard. I just began my own classes at NYU, and she shouldn’t be far behind. That is, if she’s coming. I haven’t talked to her since the day she left and that was months ago.

  I have, however, seen her in the tabloids. She’s been to lunches, clubs, and social events with her ex-boyfriend, Trip Fields. The media outlets never cease talking about the way they fell apart and then came back together. But when I see them in the papers, she doesn’t look happy, not like she was when she lived with my brothers and me. I like to think it’s all a ruse. I hope to hell it’s all a ruse. My gut aches at the thought that it’s not.

  Emily sold herself back to her father in exchange for Matt’s life. He’s my brother, and he means the world to me. Matt’s alive because of her sacrifice. I’m glad she did it, but since she’s been gone, it’s like the oxygen is missing from the air I breathe. I miss her like crazy.

  I haven’t looked at another girl since she left. Not one. She’s all I think about. When girls like Trish touch me and say let’s go with their eyes, I can’t imagine anything that might make me want to go. Or remember what made me want to go in the past. All I can think about is Emily.

  I look toward the door where Ford, one of the other bouncers, is barring the entrance. Bone, our resident thug, is in the doorway and Ford knows that if he comes within five feet of me, I’ll try to kill him with my bare hands. My younger brother, Pete, is going to get himself into trouble hanging out with Bone. I caught them together talking in the street a few days ago, and I don’t like it. Bone is trouble, and I told him last week to stay the fuck away from my family. Pete doesn’t seem to understand what kind of problems Bone attracts.

  I take a step toward the doorway, but Matt is suddenly in front of me, getting between Bone and me. It’s not worth it, he signs.

  Would be to me, I reply. I’ve been trying to catch that bastard alone ever since the last time I saw him with Pete. Our little brother suddenly has a phone, and he suddenly has money in his pocket. The boy has a job, but he’s not making enough money to pay for the things he now has. And he puts every dime he legitimately earns into the family kitty to pay the bills.

  He’s scum. My hands fly wildly as I talk, drawing the attention of several people around us.

  I know, Matt replies. We’ll take care of it, but we don’t need to do it here. He looks me in the eye. You know he’s packing.

  One more reason to keep him out of here.

  Matt shakes his head. Not tonight.

  Dammit. Ford moves to the side and admits Bone when the owner of the club walks over to force the issue. He glares at Ford.

  Ford’s a good friend, and he knows how I feel about Bone. All things considered, I don’t want to put Ford into Bone’s line of fire, either, so I’m glad he let him through just for that reason.

  Bone smiles at me, looking directly into my eyes as my gaze follows him across the room. Then he slides into a booth and breaks eye contact.

  A fight begins at the front of the bar. I clap my hands together to get Matt’s attention. He’s not working tonight. He’s not strong enough for bouncing yet, but he’s here as a wingman of sorts.

  I see it, he signs. The big one is drunk.

  The big ones always fall the hardest.

  And they’re a bitch to pick up off the floor.

  Matt laughs. I’m so fucking glad he’s getting back to normal.

  I’ll take the little one if you’ll take the big one. He cracks his knuckles and grins at me.

  You’re such a pussy, I sign. And you can’t even claim chemo did it to you because you were a pussy before you got sick. I grin at him.

  He shrugs his shoulders and smiles unabashedly back at me. It makes me so happy to see him like this. I watched him deteriorate last fall to the point where we thought he wouldn’t pull through. He still might not, but we have hope.

  At least I can get some pussy if I try. He looks down at the crotch of my jeans. Your dick, however, is going to rot off from lack of use.

  I can’t help it if I’m a one-woman man.

  He claps a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. When do you think she’ll be back? I need to thank her.

  She wouldn’t want any thanks. I shrug my shoulders. I wish I knew.

  Matt points toward the fight, which is about to escalate into a full-out brawl. The little guy is dumb enough to shove the big guy. He falls into a woman behind him, and then her boyfriend starts swinging.

  Now, Matt says.

  Now. I fucking love this part of the job. It takes four of us. Matt, Ford, another bouncer, and I all jump into the fray and quickly have it under control. But the big man is on the floor with his eyes closed. He has a smile on his
face. He’s murmuring something, but I can’t read his lips.

  I think he’s singing? Matt says, his eyebrows arching in question. Girl you make my speakers go boom boom?

  I laugh. People look over as noise bursts from my throat, but I don’t care. Laughter feels good. Emily taught me that. Help me get him up.

  Matt takes one arm while I take the other, and we hoist him onto his wobbly legs. His girlfriend, who is pretty unsteady herself, says, “We need a cab.”

  Matt and I haul him out to the cabstand and throw him into a taxi. The girlfriend gets in behind him. I feel bad for the cab driver who will have to throw his big ass out on the sidewalk.

  I dust my hands off. At least it’s done.

  Snow is falling on us, and I brush my hand across my hair. Suddenly, Matt tenses beside me. What? I ask.

  He smiles, claps me on the shoulder and says, Take the rest of the night off. Then he points behind me.

  I turn around and freeze. My lungs refuse to do their job, and I stand there, not breathing, not moving, trying not to feel anything. But there she is. Emily is standing on the sidewalk looking at me.

  She shifts from foot to foot, looking nervous as hell. Snow is falling on her hair, and she’s not wearing a coat. Surely she can afford a coat. Her family is worth billions. Her dark-blond hair, so unlike the black hair with the blue stripe she had when I met her, falls down to the middle of her back, and she has it tucked behind her ear. She’s not wearing clothes from around here. She’s full-on Madison Avenue right now.

  But the best thing about it is… she’s mine.

  Matt says something to her, but she doesn’t speak to him. She doesn’t break eye contact with me, and I feel like there’s an invisible tether between the two of us.

  I look at Matt to tell him I’m going wherever she goes. He grins. I guess we won’t have to worry about your dick dying from lack of use after all.

  I’ll see you later.

  I doubt it, he says. But he’s still grinning that goofy smile. I want to go and hug her, but I guess you get first dibs.

  And last dibs. And all the dibs in between.

  He waves to her and signs the word later.

  She nods, throws him a kiss with the tips of her fingers, and then starts toward me. Her boots leave footprints in the snow, and I force myself to stay still. I tuck my hands in my jeans pockets to keep from grabbing her.

  Hi, she signs.

  I can’t stand it any longer. I reach for her so quickly that she startles, but she’s reaching for me, too. I haul her against me, needing to feel her heart beating against mine.

  Her breath brushes my ear and fucking tears sting my eyes. I tuck my face into her neck and breathe in the scent that is uniquely hers. She wraps her arms around my waist, and her hands slide into my back pockets. We stand there in the snow like that until I feel dampness on my shirt. I tilt her face up to mine so I can look at her.

  “I’m so glad you’re home.” I use my voice because I don’t want to take my hands off her.

  “Me, too,” she says. A lone tear tracks down her cheek. I wipe it away with the pad of my thumb.

  “You’re back?” I ask.

  She nods, turning her head to kiss my palm.

  “For how long?”

  “Always.” She smiles. God, she can undo me with that smile.

  “Promise?” My heart is pounding in my chest.

  She nods and draws a cross over her chest. “I swear it.”

  “What about your father?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about my father right now.”

  “I’ll never survive it if you leave me again.” I swallow the lump in my throat.

  “Can you come home with me?” she asks.

  If I take her home right now, we won’t get to talk at all because I’ll be all over her. “Let’s go get some pie,” I say instead.

  Her face falls. “You’re mad at me.”

  “I love you like crazy, girl. How could I be mad at you?” I drink her in from the curve of her lips to the way her eyes look almost black in the darkness of the night.

  She squeezes my hands. “Is Matt all right?”

  I nod. “Thanks to you, yes.”

  She exhales, and it’s like a balloon has been emptied inside her. “What do we do now?” she asks.

  “Pie,” we both say at the same time. I take her hand in mine and lead her to the diner where we had our first meal together. Pie is safe. Pie is good. Pie will buy me enough time to be sure she still loves me as much as I love her.

   

   

  More by Tammy Falkner:

   

  Regency Faeries

  A Lady and Her Magic

  The Magic of “I Do”

  The Magic Between Us

   

  Contemporary Romance

  Escaping the Past

  Smart, Sexy and Secretive

  Calmly, Carefully, Completely

  Finally Finding Faith

  Just Jelly Beans and Jealousy

  Maybe Matt’s Miracle