Текст книги "Aurora James"

Автор книги: Jessica Ingro

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Once my tears subsided and the puffiness around my eyes wasn’t so pronounced, I went downstairs to retrieve my daughter. Ruth immediately answered her door with a concerned look on her face, to which I responded with a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

I was still shaken by my confrontation with Xavier. I wasn’t proud of the fact that he got under my skin—again. Or that I continually allowed him to give me whiplash. It was like I just couldn’t help myself with him.

Push and pull.

Advance and retreat.

That seemed to be our M.O.

Surely I was stronger than this, although evidence was clearly pointing at the opposite.

The question was when was the back and forth between us going to end?

“Where is Sophie?” I asked after taking in the empty living room.

“Mikey’s father dropped him off early, so I told them they could go watch a movie on my bed.”

“I bet they were excited.” The kids absolutely loved Ruth’s fluffy mattress, especially to jump on. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was what they were doing right then instead of watching the movie.

“You could say that,” she murmured while shuffling over to the coffee pot. Her back to me, she filled a mug, pouring cream and sugar in, all the while keeping me on pins and needles. I hated when she did this. There was nothing worse than to be kept waiting while anticipating her mom-like questions and subsequent lecture that were sure to come.

She turned and sat at the kitchen table. When she brought the mug to her lips, she looked at me over the rim and raised an eyebrow.

“What?” I asked defensively.

“You’re wringing your hands. Any reason why?”

I sighed and plopped down in the chair across from her. “I’m waiting for you to ask me about my boss and the scene you witnessed.”

“Okay,” she said in a bored tone.

“Okay? That’s all you’re going to say?”

“Yes. If you want to tell me about him, you will,” she advised.

Oh boy. She was good. The old reverse psychology bit to get me talking. So sly… and smart, considering it worked.

“There isn’t much to say. His intentions are… misguided sometimes.” Misguided. Yes. I thought that accurately described his behavior of late. While he might have good intentions, he was going about them the wrong way. Especially since it really wasn’t his place to have the intentions in the first place.

“And what exactly are his intentions?” she asked casually, the direct opposite of how I expected her to be. By now we should have been well underway in the third-degree.

I could learn a thing or two about interrogation from her. I had a feeling I was going to need it once Sophie got older.

“He thinks Sophie and I deserve better. He’s… protective. Which I like. It’s just that, I don’t know.”

“You don’t want him to be protective?”

“No, I do,” I said quickly, surprising even myself. Sure I wanted him to protect me while at work, but not throughout the rest of my life.

“I see.” She nodded her head in understanding.

“What do you see?” I narrowed my eyes at the smug expression on her face.

“You want him to protect you. You like him,” she announced like it was as easy as that.

“It’s not that simple.”

You didn’t like someone like Xavier. You either stayed far away from him in the interest of self-preservation, considering he could cut you down with just a look, or you worshiped at his feet, hoping for any scraps he might give you. There was no in-between as I was coming to learn.

“Honey, love is never simple.” She looked thoughtful for a moment before continuing, “He’s quite the looker. Tall, dark and handsome. Not what I’d imagine for you, though.”

“Why not?” I asked defensively.

“You know you’re beautiful, Alyssa. It’s not that you don’t deserve someone who looks like him. It’s just, he’s got demons. One look in his eyes and I knew it. Not sure anyone can beat back that kind of heat.”

An invisible brick landed on my chest and my breath left me in a whoosh at her observation. If she only knew the truth about who and what he really was, she’d probably have a heart attack.

Xavier unapologetically peddled flesh. He had a dark side that I not only had gotten glimpses of but had also heard numerous stories about.

Candy had practically been beside herself just the week before telling us girls the story she’d learned about the state Big J had been found in before being rushed to the hospital recently. Broken ribs, contusions on his face so bad he was barely recognizable, internal bleeding and a collapsed lung had come courtesy of Xavier’s carefully—or not so carefully, depending on which way you looked at it—leashed temper. Rumor had it he’d disobeyed one of Xavier’s rules, something every person who knew the man knew not to do.

It was scary as all get out that he could do that kind of damage to another human being and not think twice about it. If he could leave a man he knew barely breathing, what might he do to one he didn’t even know?

“It doesn’t matter,” I finally replied. “It’s not a good idea to go there. Demons or not.”

“Probably not,” she concurred in between sips of coffee. “Why’d he call you Aurora?”

“It’s my stage name.” Calling it that was the easiest thing for her to understand.

“I see. So what was the big to-do upstairs about moving?”

The reminder that he actually thought I would just pack up my life and move because he wanted me to had me annoyed all over again. It was a ludicrous idea and there was no way in hell I would ever find myself indebted to him over something as huge as a lake house.

“The jerk thought he could rent a house on the lake for Sophie and me and that I’d be okay with it,” I cried out in exasperation.

“Why the lake?” Her question took me by surprise.

“Because I told him that ever since my parents died, I’ve dreamed about living in that neighborhood again. It’s a silly dream, really. It doesn’t matter anyway. I told him I wasn’t going to accept it,” I prattled on, oblivious to the somber expression on Ruth’s face.

“Alyssa, you might not want to take on that boy’s demons, but he sure wants to take on yours,” she declared.

“What?”

“Some men have a drive deep inside them to make things happen. They’re born to take care of people. When they claim a woman, and in some cases her child, they’ll stop at nothing to move heaven and earth to give her what she needs. To fulfill her innermost desires. To have her feel nothing but being loved and cherished. Xavier is one of those men, Alyssa. If you can beat back his demons, you’ll know the richest kind of love.”

“I don’t think you understand.” My brows furrowed in confusion. One minute she was telling me to stay away from him and his demons, and the next she was spouting off about the rewards of loving a man like him. It made absolutely no sense, and I wondered if this was another lesson in reverse psychology.

“I understand perfectly. My Charles was a man like your Xavier.” I wanted to argue that point seeing as no one was quite like Xavier. Plus the whole pimp extraordinaire gig was the complete opposite of what I presumed Ruth’s church-going Charles had been like.

“Until the day he died,” she continued, and I tamped down my internal musings, “he shielded me from just about every bad thing he could. Wrapped me up in cotton every day. The only thing he couldn’t protect me from was our precious daughter dying in that car accident. But if he could have, you better believe he would have.”

“What are you saying, Ruth?” I couldn’t allow myself to think of Xavier as being as wonderful as she described. It wouldn’t do well when it came time to steel myself against his mercurial moods.

“I’m not saying anything, child. Just thought you should know.”

Well shit. I hadn’t seen this coming.

“Can I get a pretzel, Mommy?” Sophie jumped up and down, pointing at the pretzel stand with a look of pure excitement on her face.

“Yes, baby.” I picked her up and kissed her cheek, then set her down and watched her sprint towards the worker at the cash register with Candy’s daughter, Sasha, hot on her heels.

“You spoil her.” Candy’s words were chiding, but the smile on her face told me she was teasing.

“Please. You bought almost the whole store for Sasha.” I nodded towards the plethora of bags weighing down her slim frame.

“Hey, it’s back-to-school shopping. It’s a necessity.”

“I don’t think any second grader needs a wardrobe of that caliber,” I noted before ordering two salted soft pretzels with cheese cups for the girls.

While Candy was shopping for Sasha’s back-to-school selection, I was doing the same for Sophie. My baby was going to pre-kindergarten, and while it made me want to cry, it also made my heart swell with pride.

“Her father actually ponied up the cash this year. Trust me, I’m spending every penny of it,” she murmured at my side.

“Do you want anything?” I asked her when the cashier handed me a bottle of water.

“No, I’m good.” She waved me off and helped Sasha with the cheese cup that started to fumble in her hands.

I paid for the food and we followed behind the two little girls who wanted to sit at the fountain. Taking over a bench, we took a load off and let the kids enjoy their treat.

“Him giving you money is good. Right?” I asked while chewing a bite I’d snagged off Sophie’s pretzel.

“Yeah, I guess. He probably felt guilty after asking me to have Sasha’s class changed this year since he doesn’t want her in the same class as his other daughter.”

I choked on my water before saying in disbelief, “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was.” She looked so sad and defeated at the memory of the man she’d once loved and made a child with acting like such an unloving prick.

“He does realize that as long as they are in the same school there is a very real chance they’ll figure out who each other is, right? Especially once they get to middle school or high school.”

She sighed in resignation. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he asks me to switch districts. He already tried to get me to change schools and I refused. I work damn hard for her to live in a nice area and go to a good school. I’ll be damned if he tries to keep Sasha a dirty little secret forever.”

“At least he’s in her life. Kevin hasn’t even written to Sophie since he went to jail.”

“Men,” she muttered in disgust. “Can’t live with ‘em and can’t live without ‘em. Although, with my stock in batteries, I’m learning I don’t need one as frequently.”

“You’re bad,” I said in between laughs.

When the girls were done with their treats, we strolled down the last wing that we had to conquer of the large mall.

The shopping mecca was definitely more of an experience than it was a mall. It was four stories high, with nearly four hundred businesses that ranged from restaurants to entertainment options like go-karts and all the way up to high-end businesses like a Coach store. It was an almost two-hour drive from where we lived, but well worth it if you had money to spend. And thanks to my recent night with Marx, I had quite a bit to splurge with.

“Oh look!” Candy yelled excitedly, her hand swatting my arm until she got my attention.

“What?”

“It’s that tattoo shop that’s on television. With the kick-ass Cuban artist who has that smoldering look. What’s his name? Juan?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t have cable.”

She gasped at that and turned wide, incredulous eyes on me. “How can you not have cable?”

“It costs money.” I shrugged.

“Bitch! You’ve been making decent money. Surely you can afford cable.”

“I could, but I don’t. I’m saving up for a house.”

“Oh, that’s right,” she mumbled. “I know! Let’s get tattoos!”

“Uh… no.” The thought of needles and my body was not a pleasant one. Not only did I not want to put myself through the pain, but if you were going to mark your body with something it needed to have meaning. A spur of the moment tattoo was not that.

“Come on,” she cajoled. “It’ll be fun.”

“What about the girls?”

“They can color or something.”

“I doubt they have crayons.” I eyed the blacked-out windows dubiously, thinking it was the last place children should be.

“We’ll never know if we don’t ask.” She dragged me by my arm into the shop.

While Candy went straight to the desk, I spun around, taking the place in. Every inch of wall space was covered in art that ranged from flash designs all the way up to extremely intricate pieces that could probably hang in a museum.

My eyes roamed from piece to piece, in complete awe of the beauty of some of them. The amount of creativity in a few of the designs was astounding. One, in particular, had me mesmerized—three-dimensional butterflies dancing around a very lifelike cherry blossom. Each object in the tattoo was drawn so perfectly and was so breathtakingly beautiful, my hand reached out and my fingers ran over them, expecting them to be real.

Tears filled my eyes and my throat constricted at the words weaved around the picture:

Just when the caterpillar thought its world was over, it became a butterfly.

It couldn’t be more perfect than if someone had specifically drawn it with me in mind.

“They said they have some sketch paper and pencils the kids can use. And get this! Juan had a cancelation! He’s available!” Candy squealed in delight, oblivious to the poignant moment I was having courtesy of the picture on the wall.

A tear slid out of my eye and down my cheek when I turned to look at her. Her smile immediately turned to a frown and she grabbed my hand in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I found my tattoo,” I whispered. My chin quivered as I attempted to keep from bawling in the middle of a tattoo parlor.

“Which one?”

I pointed at the butterflies and she made a choking noise when she saw it. Her hands flew to her mouth and tears filled her eyes. “Aww, A. It’s perfect. You have to get it.”

“Ladies,” came from behind us in a deep, raspy voice with a Latin accent. “I hear one of you is getting a tattoo today.”

We both turned and our jaws dropped at the amazingly sexy man standing in front of us. He was only a few inches taller than me with jet-black hair and green eyes. He had a good few days’ worth of stubble covering his face. Paired with his faded jeans and buttoned-up flannel, it made him look like a bad boy. He was in a word… yummy.

“Hi,” Candy breathed, her body swaying towards him. I was afraid she was going to fall over if she wasn’t careful.

He gave her a smirk that said he knew exactly how he affected her.

“I think she wanted a tattoo,” I told him while subtly trying to sweep away the last of the moisture on my cheeks.

“No!” Candy said on a rush. “She wants that tattoo.”

Juan looked over my shoulder at the picture she was pointing to and his smirk turned into a grin. “That’s my drawing.”

“It is? It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you. I have yet to ink it on anyone,” he informed me.

“How could no one want it?” I asked in disbelief.

“I didn’t say no one wanted it. I just haven’t found the right canvas for it yet.”

“Oh,” I mumbled in disappointment. I didn’t want a tattoo if I couldn’t have that one. Like I said, it needed to be important to have it with you for life. A perfect depiction of the metamorphosis I found myself going through was the one thing that fit that bill. For I was just like the little caterpillar who realized that the trials I was experiencing weren’t the end of the world. They only made me stronger and more beautiful.

“Lift your shirt and turn around,” he oddly requested.

“I’m not so sure—”

“I need to see what I’m working with,” he assured me.

“Oh, right.” My spirits lifted that he might still agree to tattoo me. I spun around and lifted my t-shirt to my shoulder.

His finger trailed lightly over the right side of my back, giving me chills. It felt like an eternity before he finally spoke.

“I charge three hundred per hour. This is a six-hour piece.”

My mind quickly did the math and I thought, Holy shit! That was a lot of money. It would put a dent in my housing fund. I chewed on my lip and debated the merits of using the money so foolishly.

“I’ll tell you what.” Juan’s face was soft as he looked at me. “That design has been hanging on a wall for five years and until today I had yet to find someone I wanted to ink it on. I’ll do it for a flat grand. Take it or leave it.”

“Take it,” Candy whispered, her shoulder nudging mine.

“Deal.” My heart raced with both excitement and fear at getting inked for the first time. “Oh wait. What about the kids?”

“I’ll take them to a movie and dinner. If we still have time to kill, we’ll go to the arcade. It’s not every day someone of Juan’s caliber is available on demand for a killer tattoo. Don’t worry about anything but sitting still for our man here.” Her hand patted his arm, her fingers squeezing his bicep not so subtly.

“Do you mind?” he asked her with a raised brow.

“Nope.” She gave him an unrepentant grin that made him chuckle.

“Let’s go.” Juan turned and walked towards the back.

With a quick kiss and hug for Sophie, I raced after him, my only thought being I hoped I didn’t pass out.

My back was to the mirror. My head turned to look over my shoulder as I admired the tattoo in the mirror of my bedroom.

It was extraordinary. Taking up most of the right side of my upper back, it was more lifelike and realistic than it had been on the wall. The crisp blooms of the cherry blossoms and the vibrant shades of peach, pink and creams that made up the butterflies, highlighted by the black and white polka dots rimming their wings, was a work of art—literally.

Juan had not been wrong when he’d said the tattoo was going to take six hours. It actually took a little more. I didn’t mind though because it meant that he was putting more attention into all the subtle details that made it so special.

When he’d revealed the piece to me, I’d nearly burst into tears right then. I hadn’t thought it would be seemly to sob on the shoulder of a hot tattoo artist, so I’d choked them back, only letting a few stray ones leak from the corners of my eyes.

Once Candy had shown up with the girls, who oohed and ahhed over my tattoo, I’d paid the shopgirl. On our way out, Juan had emerged from the back and without a thought as to why I did it, I’d launched myself at him and gave him a tight hug.

The girls had conked out in the backseat of Candy’s car on the way home, giving her plenty of time to grill me about my day with the man of her dreams. There really hadn’t been much for me to tell her, much to her chagrin, because I had promptly taken him up on his offer for headphones and an mp3 player.

“You good in there?” Candy knocked on my bedroom door before opening it a crack. With just her eyeball visible through the crack, I couldn’t help it and started laughing hysterically at how ridiculous she looked.

Through my laughter, she pushed the door open and came into the room shaking a tube of A&D ointment at me. “Time for me to lube and then cover you up.”

“Thanks… I think,” I mumbled, giving her my back.

“You going to be good in the morning with this?” she asked as her fingers lightly spread the ointment on my tattoo to keep it from drying out.

“Yeah. I’ll call Ruth.”

“Okay.”

My cell phone rang and my eyes moved to where it sat on the bed. Candy picked it up and squealed at the name displayed on the screen. “Holy shit! It’s Marx!”

“What?” I asked in confusion. I hadn’t put his number in my phone. I hadn’t even thought to ask for it since he’d given me his card in case I was interested in seeing him outside of work.

“How the hell do you have Marx’s number programmed in your phone?” she demanded to know.

“I don’t know,” I answered her truthfully and reached for the phone. “Do you mind if I answer it and see what he wants?”

“That’s probably a good idea.” A frisson of anxiety set up shop in my gut. She handed me the phone and I swiped my finger across the screen before putting it to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Aurora, its Marx.” His voice was smooth and sexy, like a phone sex operator. It had parts of me quivering that should not be excited just from a man’s voice.

“Hi?”

“I was wondering if you’d be interested in going out with me Friday night.” My earlier assessment of him being a man who cut right to the chase was once again confirmed when he voiced his request without preamble.

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” I told him.

“That’s where we seem to disagree. I for one think it's a very good idea.”

“Yes, well, it only matters what I think,” I replied cheekily, which had him laughing into the phone. It was a rich, dark sound that did funny things to my stomach.

“How true that is,” he said under his breath. Then louder, he said, “It’s just dinner. If you have a dreadful time, I promise I’ll never ask again.”

My heart skipped a beat at the prospect of going on a date with a man like Marx. He was sophisticated and sexy, whereas I was young and gauche. There was also my profession and the fact that he was a client of mine to contend with.

“If he’s asking you out, you better go!” Candy whispered irately, her head so close to mine I was sure she could hear our conversation.

Well, damn. What the hell was I going to do? I really wanted to go. I had been intrigued with him since the first time I had met him. He had said he wanted to fuck me, and I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t intrigued by what he had to offer. And I really needed something to take my mind off Xavier and the stupid attraction I had to him.

One date couldn’t really be that bad. We could always part ways amicably if it didn’t work. And if it did, well, we could cross that bridge when we got to it. Surely couples faced obstacles like ours all the time. Well, not the prostitute/John hurdle, but obstacles nonetheless.

Oh, and did I mention I really wanted to go?

“Oh alright,” I murmured in a mock aggrieved tone, making him laugh again.

“I’ll pick you up Friday at seven,” he said through his mirth.

“Okay,” I said softly, still loving the sound of his waning laughter.

“Until then.”

“Bye, Marx.”

We hung up and I threw my phone on the bed.

“You’ve got some explaining to do,” Candy shouted, her hands pushing me hard enough to make me fall back on the bed.

“I have no idea how he got my number,” I admitted while chewing on my lip. “But I’m glad he did.”

“Damn, girl. You are like the queen of The Den. Seriously. I’m going to have to get you a fancy tiara and a name plaque for your door.” I chuckled at both her excitement and her misguided belief I would be the queen of anything.

“Um, Candy?” I asked in between giggles.

“Yeah?”

“What the hell am I going to wear on Friday?”

A slow grin spread across her face. “I know just the thing that will have Marx eating out of your hand.”