Heavy: A Contemporary Romance (7 page)

Thatch

California looked stunned and incapable of replying to what her stepsister had just said
. I could feel the smugness coming off Lake in waves from the couch next to where I was standing, my gear all packed now.

“It was nice to meet you, Lake
. Also the name’s Thatch, not Tad,” I said as I made my way towards California and the door.

“Likewise, I’m sure,” she
mumbled as she closed her eyes, a small smirk on her lips.

California was looking down at the carpet, obviously avoiding my gaze.

“Was that what you meant earlier when you asked if Lake had sent me?” I whispered in a curt tone. “Is that a thing you guys do then? She finds guys who want to make it with the hot daughter of a famous actor and you… keep them company?”

Having just discovered that California was
accustomed to entertaining strangers on behalf of her stepsister had made me unbelievably and inexplicably angry. For a moment there, I think I’d thought it might be more than a one-night-stand. I needed to get out of here – and away from her – now.

“It was nice meeting you
, too, California,” I added in a louder voice for Lake’s benefit.

Without waiting for her to reply,
I opened the door and left the room.

The elevator opened almost the second I reached it and a small group of
partygoers stumbled out into the foyer. Ignoring me completely, they headed towards the living room.

I got into the elevator and pressed the button for the casino level.

Just as the doors were almost closed, a hand shot between them causing them to reopen again.

California stepped into the small space with me.

“I need to say something to you before you leave,” she said in a small voice. The doors slid close behind her as she stood facing me.

“I don’t th
ink we have anything else to discuss, do we?” I glared at her.

“You’re the one who said there was something inexplicable between us – something neither one of us ha
d experienced before.”

“Yes, but I’ve been known to be wrong before
. Very wrong.” My mind flooded with thoughts of Charity, the girl I’d fallen for when I was sixteen. I was so stupid at sixteen. That was only six years ago. Apparently, I’m still just as stupid now as I was then.

“So
, what happened between us back there was just… nothing… a one-night-stand?” California asked.

“Apparently
. Apparently, you’re quite…
used
…
to them.” I knew it was a low blow, but I couldn’t help myself.

Her eyes flashed with anger at my words
, which caused my dick to twitch again.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

“Fuck you, Thatch Reston. I’m not going to apologize for my past. I’m sure you’re no angel,
stud
. I’m sure you have a past
full
of one-nighters that you’re probably quite proud of. If I were a man,
my
past would be meaningless.” As she spit out the words, her eyes glistened from held-back tears – the natural brightness I’d seen in them all night was gone, completely switched off.

“If you were a man
, I wouldn’t have just fucked the shit out of you – twice.”

“I seem to remember that at least one of those times it was
me
fucking
you
, asshole.”

Now
, we were just throwing out insults that probably neither one of us meant. Regardless, I was done. I learned my lesson a long time ago. This girl – with her drugs, and her alcohol, and her manipulative and controlling pimp of a sister – was bad news. I didn’t need someone like her in my life – ever – regardless of the mind-blowing sex we just had.

The elevator reached its destination and the doors slid open.

“You’d better get back upstairs and put some pants on, California,” I said as I turned away from her and headed out into the casino to get to the parking garage.

I heard the doors close behind me
. California didn’t follow.

Thatch

Two weeks
later…

“We wouldn’t be having this problem if you could just keep it in your pants for once in your life, Rufus.”

“Come on
, Thatch,” Rufus responded with his signature cocky grin. “You know I have a thing for blondes.”

“And
redheads and brunettes, male or female - just about anything with a pulse,” I interjected. Openly bisexual, no one was safe if Rufus was in the room.

The blonde in question was the
current manager and receptionist of Reston Tattoos.

“If Lisa
wasn’t so pissed with you and always having to go home early because of it, perhaps the appointment schedules wouldn’t be as fucked up as they are right now,” I said.

I’d been overbooked today and it was already nine at night
, and I was still at work. We were open until midnight on weekends, but Rufus, and sometimes my dad, took the late shift. I was usually long gone by this time. I
had
to be long gone by this time.

“If you hadn’t been featured in
Tattoo
back in April, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” Rufus winked at me.

I rolled my eyes at him
. Being booked solid for the next few months was hardly a ‘mess,’ and he knew it.

After I’d done Max
Rivers’s elaborate back piece, it started with recognition and acclaim for my work by his fans, which, thanks to social media, brought it to the attention of a prestigious industry magazine. Next, I was being interviewed and featured in a two-page spread. Apparently, I was the new up-and-coming face of the tattoo world – an enigma at twenty-two who had only been in the business for two years, starting while I was still in college. Out of nowhere I was being compared to renowned black-and-gray portrait artists like Woon Kim and Kat Von D, and other grayscale masters like Paul Booth. I was, according to the magazine article, ‘someone to watch.’

“I don’t have an open appointment for three months, Rufus
. Not to mention how the Ninja Athlete thing has screwed up my whole schedule. We need a full-time,
focused
shop manager. Someone who actually stays on top of scheduling and has an understanding of social media and marketing. Lisa was great when we were just a two-bit shop off the Vegas Strip with a small following. She’s not handling the increase in business too well. The fact that you and her are having… problems… is only adding to the fact she can’t keep up.”

“I told her up front I wasn’t into commitment and didn’t do relationships,” Rufus replied as he started removing his tools from the autoclave.

“And I told you not to mess with co-workers, Casanova.”

Rufus shrugged. He was a player and he’d never change
. I felt sorry for Lisa even though she’d screwed up my day… again. Rufus was almost ten years my senior and I still felt like the only adult in the room.

That’s pretty much normal for me though.

Rufus gave me another grin. “I’ll talk to her and smooth things over. You’re way too serious for an ink slinger, kiddo.”

“And way too talented for his age too,” my father interjected as he came into the shop via the doorway
from our apartment upstairs.

“Hi, Bell,” Rufus waved.

“Evening, Jackass.” My dad turned to look at me after greeting Rufus. “You’re running late, Thatch. He’s getting anxious. You know how he is if you’re late.”

“Thanks, Pops
. I’m heading up there now.”

“I’ll be up in a few hours,” my dad responded as he began to check through his work
s at his station. “I’ll stay and keep Jackass company for a bit.”

My dad wasn’t able to do any extensive or elaborate tattoos anymore
since his hands would cramp up after less than two hours. This didn’t mean he wasn’t still a Flash Master though. You needed a heart on your ankle, or a small rose on your shoulder, and his work was perfection itself. About a year ago, my father had branched out into doing reconstructive and cosmetic tattoos on women that had undergone mastectomy surgery due to breast cancer. Word had spread and he was doing so many these days, he’d earned the nickname ‘The Tit Master’ from Rufus – who, of course, only called him this behind his back. Truth be told, what my dad did for these women after all they’d gone through was completely awe-inspiring.

Back in the day, B
ellamy Reston was known for mastering and refining his own take on American street shop styles. Alcoholism and arthritis had caused business to wane – until I came back into his life three years ago. I’d needed the father that I hadn’t seen in over ten years and, in retrospect, he’d needed me just as badly.

I specialized in black-and-gray realism and
, with my newfound notoriety, I was rarely required to do walk-ins or flash anymore. At least, people waiting over three months for an appointment with me rarely did so for flash. Thanks to my work on Max Rivers, I was a ‘by appointment only’ tattoo artist, charging two hundred dollars per hour with a two-hour minimum. My clients either had an elaborate and detailed photograph for me to reproduce on their skin, or they wanted a Thatch Reston free hand original. Life could be worse.

Life
had
been worse.

I usually only accepted clients
three days a week and clocked about twenty hours total during that period – not including prep and research. Then, a lot of my free time I spent at the specialized gym conveniently located across the street. Until tonight and Lisa’s scheduling screwup, that is.

“See you later, guys,” I said as I started to head up the stairs to our apartment.

“Later, Thatch,” Rufus called up after me. “Perhaps, if you followed my lead and went out and got laid more often, you’d get rid of that stick up your ass.” He chuckled as I ignored him and continued my ascent up to the apartment. It was something he said to me just about every day and I was used to his relentless teasing after all this time. His words made my thoughts jump immediately to California, as they always did.

It was almost two weeks to the day that I’d been called in to do that tattoo for Max at his hotel room
. Not a day had passed that I hadn’t thought about her.

California Huntington
. Of course, I’d Googled her – or rather her stepsister Lake Rivers – and I’d eventually found out who she was. Brock Huntington’s daughter – the ‘Girl Who Cried Wolf,’ as the media had named her. According to the papers, she was a spoiled daddy’s girl who had sought the attention of her world-famous father by staging her own kidnapping with the help of friends. When that had failed, things had escalated into shoplifting charges, DUIs, and being thrown out of several high schools for various reasons relating to drug and alcohol abuse. Add to all of that the fact I found out firsthand that her stepsister was her pimp, and you had the whole thing in a seedy and sordid nutshell.

It was like the girl I’d first met in that hotel room two
weeks ago was somebody else.

Whatever the case may be, there was no room in my life for someone like California Huntington
. She was trouble with a capital ‘T.’ It was a one-night-stand and that was the end of it. I’d never see her again and I was better off for it.

At least
, that’s what I kept telling myself.

It hadn’t stopped me from
getting her phone number from Max and calling her in a moment of weakness.

It hadn’t been one of my better ideas.

I ended up speaking to a woman I assumed was her stepmother, Tallulah. She sounded every bit as horrifying as Max had made her out to be. When I told her my name, her ice-cold tone had dropped several more degrees and there was no doubt in my mind she knew exactly who I was. The tattoo guy who had covered over ‘Tally.’ Max was right – the woman was pissed. She told me California was traveling through Europe and wouldn’t be back for months.

So
, that was that.

Rufus was half right
. I
did
need to go out and get laid. The only problem was that I couldn’t stop thinking about California. I needed to get that girl out of my head. I had more important things to think about.

I walked into the apartment and headed straight for the living room.

Thaddeus was propped up between two large cushions on the couch. He clutched his stuffed rabbit, Mr. Bunny, to his chest as he fought desperately to keep his heavy eyelids open. He wasn’t winning the battle.

My heart flipped in my chest, as it always did when I saw my beautiful five-year-old son
. He was wearing his aviator hat with the earflaps that really hadn’t left his head since my dad had given it to him last Christmas. He was also wearing his favorite pajamas with the
Ultimate Ninja Athlete
logo all over them. Some kids love super heroes – my kid loved
Ultimate Ninja Athlete
. When he found out the gym across the street was being converted into a training center especially geared toward obstacle courses, Thaddeus became a boy obsessed. He made me promise to try out for the show. How could I say no to my adorable little boy? As it turned out, the extensive training regime was a therapeutic way of taking my mind off other, more stressful, things. They also loved Thaddeus there and at five, he’d already perfected a backward flip.

“Hey, little man,” I said softly
, as I sat down next to him on the couch.

“Daddy,
” he mumbled in a sleepy voice. “You’re so late… I was scared.”

His little hand grabbed my finger and I inwardly cursed my incompetent shop manager’s name to the Gods…
again.

“Pop-Pop brought you downstairs to show you I was still there, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Thaddeus looked up at me through his mother’s deep blue eyes, and the fear in them made my breath catch – as it always did.

“You know I’d never ever leave you, little man
. You’re stuck with me forever and ever.”

Thaddeus was always extra-emot
ional on his therapy days. We had our bi-monthly Parent-Child therapy session this morning after the gym. Talking about his mother and the little he remembered about her death always did this to him. I was guaranteed a sleepless night tonight for sure.

Even if a miracle happened and he didn’t have a nightmare, I wouldn’t be able to sleep for watching him and waiting for one to happen
.

“Come on, buddy,” I said
, picking him up and carrying him towards his room. “It’s time for little people to be in bed.”

Thaddeus’ arms were wrapped tightly around my neck
with Mr. Bunny wedged between us. Thaddeus giggled as I tickled his sides while I walked.

My heart melted at his giggling
. Usually such a serious little boy, it just didn’t happen often enough.

“Sorry
, I couldn’t be here for dinner, little man. I’ll try not to let it happen again, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” he said solemnly, the giggling now stopped.

I tucked him into his bed between the fighter-plane sheets and took off his aviator hat. His blond hair, another inheritance from his mother, was plastered to his head, still damp from his bath. Another nightly event I tried never to miss.

Thanks again, Lisa
.

I ruffled his hair gently and moved it off his forehead.

“There you are,” I said playfully. “I almost couldn’t see you under all those curls.”

“Silly daddy,” Thaddeus chuckled as I settled myself onto the bed next to him.

“Now tell me about what Pop-Pop made for dinner tonight,” I said as he snuggled in closer to me.

“Pop-Pop burned the
‘ghetti sauce again tonight!”

“No!” I said
with an exaggerated ‘oh no he didn’t’ look on my face.

“Yeah
, he did, Daddy. He had to open another jar.”

“What about vegetables
? Did you eat all your veggies, Thaddeus?”

My son beckoned me in closer
and, when I did, he whispered in my ear. “Pop-pop doesn’t always make vegetables when you aren’t there,” he said conspiratorially, the word ‘vegetables’ sounded out with several more syllables than it actually possessed. “But, he told me not to tell you.”

“I see,” I said with a fake-stern face
. “You know what that means, right?”

“Pop-Pop isn’t in
twouble, is he?” Thaddeus looked worried and I couldn’t keep up the stern face for long. Especially after the adorable way he pronounced ‘trouble.’

“It means extra veggies tomorrow, kiddo.” I went in for a tickling attack as I spoke.

When we’d both settled down again after the giggling fit, Thaddeus looked up at me through drooping eyelids.

“Tell me about Mommy,” he pleaded in a soft voice, as I knew he eventually would.

“All right, little man, as long as you promise to go to sleep.”

Thaddeus nodded, pulling Mr. Bunny in close to him and assuming
the sleep position. His eyes were still fixed on mine.