Laura Wright - Shattered Ink

“But I did hear about it,” she returns hotly.

“Only because you came here.”

Her mouth drops open an inch.

“Shit.” I growl at my foot-in-mouth assholery. “That’s not what I mean. I’m glad you’re here. I want you here all the damn time. I just didn’t want you to have to deal with that kind of drama.”

She lifts her chin, her nostrils flaring now. She’s super pissed. “I suspect that being with you, I’m going to be exposed to all kinds of drama. I know you haven’t been celibate since high school, and I know what kind of tail comes through that door several times a day. Stop protecting me, and prepare me.”

“What?”

“I could’ve handled that bitch. But you didn’t prepare me.” She tosses the rest of the tape on the table and heads for the door. “I’m out of here.”

I follow. Course I fucking follow. I love her to death. “Addison.”

“I need some time, Rush.” She doesn’t even slow, doesn’t even glance over her shoulder. Just hits the front door of the shop and keeps on going.

Once outside, I stop. She’s already in my car, and she’s right. I fucked up. She deserves some cooling off. Shit. This was not the day I had planned.

Without looking at me, Addison backs up and drives off.

After a minute of staring at her receding taillights, I head back inside. I’m feeling murderous and I’m ready to fire anyone who crosses my path and says something stupid.

Vincent’s behind the desk, taking a credit card from his client. “She gone?” he asks.

I shoot him a warning glare. “What do you think?

“I told you, man,” he says with exactly zero sympathy. “Name tats. Kiss of fucking death.”

I lift the wooden spoon to my mouth and taste. Holy crap, that’s some kickass gravy. I stare into the pot. It looks good. Brown and bubbling and sending off hella good scents. I’m kind of proud of myself. Coq au Vin had sounded super difficult and majorly time consuming, and yeah, it was both those things, but I did it.

I’m just taking another quick taste, when I hear the front door open. My pulse jacks up in my throat, but I’m glad he’s home. And I’m appreciative of the hour he’s given me to cool down.

“You’re making dinner, Ads?”

I turn to look at him. “I told you I was going to.”

He’s leaning against the counter about five feet away. “I know, but I thought…” His body language is wary, but his eyes are throwing off hardcore forgive-me darts. God, I’m so in love with him.

“Did you think I’d be on my way to the airport, Rush?”

He nods, and I hate the flash of fear in his eyes.

“Oh, Jesus.” I put the spoon down and lean against the counter, too. “I’m not running from this. I fucking love you. It took us five years to get here.”

His eyes close and he exhales. “Oh, Ads.”

When he opens them again, I continue, “But you can’t lie to me. No matter what. No matter how you think I’m going to react.” My words catch up with me and sucker punch me in the chest. I laugh softly. At myself. My silly, fearful, happy self. “Amazing.”

“What?”

“I learned something from this. From that asshole ex of yours. Seriously, she might be from the south or whatever, but girl needs to learn some manners.”

Rush pushes away from the counter and saunters over to me. And when I say ‘saunters,’ I mean it. Boy may be scared of losing what we got, but nothing can steal his sexy.

“You gotta know something,” I say when he places his hands on my hips and pins me with those jade-green eyes. “And if it sends you running out the door, then fine, I get that. Of course, this is your house so maybe I’m the one who leaves, or you step out for a walk and…”

His hands tighten around my hips and he eases me closer. “Ads. Talk to me. I’m not going anywhere.”

I take a breath, bite my lower lip. “Okay. Here goes. So, I’ve been in hell for five weeks.”

His body goes rigid. “What?”

“Except when I’m with you,” I amend quickly. “When I’m with you I’m crazy happy. Like, nuts happy. Like I can breathe and chill and focus. But when I’m back there, when I’m home, without you, life just completely sucks. Seriously, it’s orange sweatpants and sad movies, pining all night instead of studying, and being an utterly craptastic friend. I’m lost.” I shrug. “I’m addicted. To you. To us.”

“See, that’s the problem, baby,” Rush says casually, like all the shit I just said was completely and totally understandable.

“What?” I ask. I think my Coq au Vin might be burning. And I think I don’t care.

“Cali’s not your home.”

I swallow. No. Definitely don’t care about the fancy French chicken. “It’s not?”

He shakes his head. “Come on, Addison. We’re both shit without each other. Phone’s not going to do it. Text just pisses me off. And weekends are a goddamn tease.”

I nod, laugh. “I know, totally.”

He pulls back a second, his brows slamming together. He looks so hot when he’s confused. “Wait a minute. Did you actually think I’d be freaked out or turned off by hearing how sick your love for me is?”

“Yeah. I kinda did.” I shake my head. “That abandonment thing runs deep, you know? And when you find that person who just drives you crazy in the freaking best way, like they get you, and all you want to do is be with them, you get scared. You get scared ‘cause you wanna hang on tight. Crazy tight. And you wonder if you’ll suffocate them and they’ll break away and haul ass to a different state or country or…the moon.” I start laughing at myself. I’m such a nutjob.

Rush pulls me in for a kiss. It’s not the hungry, I’m-going-to-fuck-the-shit-out-of-you kind, which is pretty standard for us because we’re horny and in love. It’s gentle and vulnerable, and it makes tears prick in my eyes.

When he pulls away, there’s something near my cheek. I can’t see it because it’s out of my eyeline, but I think it’s metal. Then he brings it around and holds it between us.

“Move in and suffocate the shit out of me, Ads. And before you say anything, that’s not a question.” He takes the key and heads for the top of my tank. I gasp when he places the cool metal between my breasts. His eyes lift to hold mine. “I was going for your heart, but I’m not that skilled in the romantic notions department.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and get as close as possible. “Oh, I think you’re pretty good.”

“And I think you’re pretty.”

I giggle like a girl. “Maybe we should turn off the stove?”

“Definitely.”

He flips the switch in one easy movement, then hauls me into his arms and kisses me again. And this time, it’s totally hungry and I-want-to-fuck-the-shit-out-of-you. And you know what? We can eat later.

My mom cups my face and stares at me with tears in her eyes. “You looked so beautiful up there, darling. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

It’s crazy time. All around us, graduates in caps and gowns are celebrating. Some with their families, some with their friends.

“Now, if they’d have just allowed you to wear something other than black.”

I ease away from her hold. “Mom—”

“It’s just so drab, darling.” She lowers her voice. “And Kevin was watching.”

“You think Kevin would prefer me in…pink, purple?”

She lifts one perfectly penciled brow. “Don’t be a shit, darling.”

I laugh. At just that moment, my father, Kevin and his parents join us. Mr. and Mrs. Stanfield are pretty much a carbon copy of my parents. Tan, toned, aging beautifully, dressed in tailored pastels. It’s the world I grew up in, and honestly—and sadly—the world I feel most comfortable in. But I try as best I can to venture out and be bad. I think I’ve succeeded a few times.

My dad scoops me up in his arms and swings me around like I’m six. “My little college graduate.” He places me down and glances over at the Stanfields. “They grow up so fast. Leave the nest and fly off for parts unknown.”

I laugh. “Dad, I’m not flying off. Not until I find a job that sends me places.”

“A job,” my mother says, clucking her tongue and fingering her pearls. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“I’m not worried,” I lie. “I’m ready.”

My mother’s steely gaze drifts over to Kevin, who is looking at me with soft affection. I cringe. The last thing in the world I want is another date with The Tongue.

“You know, I was already married with a baby on the way when I was your age, Lisa.” My mother touches the sleeve of Kevin’s ultra-pressed white shirt. “Do you like children, Kevin?”

He looks momentarily startled, so his mother answers for him. “Adores them.”

Oh, Jesus. I need to get to an after-party, like now. Before they start planning our wedding.

“Brunch at the Biltmore, Meredith?” my father asks.

She nods. “Yes. We have reservations for one o’clock.”

“Then we’d better get going.” My father turns to me. “Why don’t you ride with Kevin, honey? We old folk like to stick together.” He gives me a wink.

Real subtle, Dad.

“I brought the Porsche today,” Kevin says, moving closer to me. “I remember you how much you like it. The seats especially.” His eyebrows drift up and down a couple times in an effort to be provocative.

Real subtle, Kev.

He tries to put his arm around me, but I feint right. I seriously can’t bear him touching me again. Just the memory of his tongue coming at me like a knight’s lance, ready to do battle. BARF.

He’s so not deterred. “After brunch we can take it for a ride on the beach. I know a strip of sand that’s totally abandoned. Maybe there’s a few animals around, but I can get them out of my way. Permanently, if you know what I mean.”

I do. I really do. I stare at his shirt and all the buttons. I really do hate buttons.

“Hey, girl!” Someone jumps me from behind, then whispers in my ear, “What’s up, whore?”

Oh, thank god.

“Addy, where have you been?” I say, turning around to verbally flog her for not being by my side as my parents attempt to marry me off to Mega Buttons. But she’s not alone. And I very much mean NOT ALONE.

I eye the two guys dressed completely out of place for a morning graduation ceremony in Santa Barbara. Jeans and t-shirts and lots of ink. “Hey, Rush. Vincent.”

Now, I knew Addison’s man was coming to the ceremony, obviously, but I had not been informed that she had also invited his jerkoff friend.

“Well, Lisa dear,” my mother says behind me. “Are you going to introduce us to your…friends?”

Oh, yeah, sure. This won’t be awkward. “Mom, Dad, Mrs. and Mrs. Stanfield, Kevin, you know my best friend, Addison.” I wait for the little nods between them all to cease before I continue. “And this is her boyfriend, Rush. And this is…” The hottest guy that ever walked the earth. No. That’s not right. I’m flustered. “This is…” The guy who once—oh, god.  No, No, No... “This is one of Rush’s employees, Vincent.” Better. But not much.

Addison’s looking at me like I’m having a stroke or something. Rush is shaking hands with my parents and Mr. and Mrs. Stanfield. And Vincent, with his ‘Suck Me Raw’ t-shirt and nearly shaved skull, is just staring at Kevin like he’s about to bust out laughing.

“You both have some nice artwork there,” Kevin says politely, first pointing at Rush’s neck, then at Vincent’s sleeve tattoo—the one with pussy wagon scrawled down the forearm.

“Thanks, man,” Rush says.

“Yeah, thanks,” Vincent says like he means the exact opposite. “Hey, if you’re ever in Vegas, come by. I can hook you up.”

“For a tattoo?” Kevin says, surprised and slightly uncomfortable. “Oh. Yeah, I don’t know. Maybe.”

“A pin-up with a skull face would look really sharp on your neck.”

Someone clears their throat behind me.

“My son will not be getting a tattoo,” Mrs. Stanfield says sharply. “He’s a lawyer.”

“Right.” Vincent’s gaze flickers to me. “No blue ink for the blue blood.”

“Lisa?” my father begins. “What is he talking about?”

I turn and death-stare at Vincent. “I have no idea,” I utter through gritted teeth.

His lips drift upward. “Yeah you do.”

“V,” Rush says under his breath. “Don’t.”

Vincent’s gaze flickers over to Kevin, then back to me. “Perfect. Your own kind, Lis. It’s where you belong.”

“Shall we go? On y va?” my mom purrs in her I’ve-been-to-Paris-more-times-than-you-can-count French accent. “Brunch awaits.”