Inky (2 page)

Now it was even better. I had the love of a good man, my girlfriends loved him and he didn’t pressure me to talk about my childhood (a topic I hated to discuss more than anything). He was also completely supportive of my career as an artist. We both understood the struggle of being an artist-type, even though he’d broken into the industry doing session work. He didn’t have aspirations of being a rock star and I wasn’t under any illusion that I would be the next Matisse; though I didn’t think he would knock back an opportunity at stardom either. Bartending was just a way to get ahead financially, in addition to working at the gallery during the week. What was I absolutely sure about? I was happy…I was going to marry Evan, and just like that, my mind wandered back into my room where he was making love to me.

Chapter 2

I absolutely loved being a bartender. I was so excited when I saw this place was opening. I called Aimes and told her we needed bartending lessons and fast, because I was determined to get us a job there. From the outside, it was just one of those 1970’s parchment colored buildings. Beyond the stucco walls and dark brown trim, it looked to be a hip dive bar. Dusty, broken neon beer sign in the high windows gave the promise of long nights with good friends, a decent juke box selection and peanuts in little bowls.

One of the questions I was asked by Rusty when I was interviewed was, “you don’t really have bartending experience. What do you think qualifies you for this job?”

I thought for a moment and answered, “I have street smarts, I learn quickly and I have the ability to diffuse a tense situation with just a smile.” I flashed my pearly whites at him and I swear I heard a little ding sound. I think he knew I was lying but appreciated my enthusiasm.

He smiled a knowing smile and asked, “When can you start?” Two weeks later, Aimes and I found ourselves working at Rusty’s bar, aptly named…Rusty’s. Not long after, he hired Lisa.

When someone gets out of hand, my less patient co-worker (Lisa) asks me to try and make nice with the offender, followed by the bouncers. Apparently I’m not one of those women who people describe as beautiful or cute even. I’m “sweet” which can also give the impression that I’m weak. I’m not. I’m sweetness with a potty mouth and an attitude.

Tonight was karaoke night. Locals came in throughout the day to sign up so they could have their chance at being a rock star for at least three minutes. We also held a raffle each hour for the people who either didn’t sign up early or didn’t want to wait for their turn to sing. The money made on the raffle supported whatever local charity Rusty chose. He was a quiet guy, not a man of many words but you only had to be around him for a few minutes to know two things: one - he would do anything for us girls and two - he was a sweet-A, ginger-haired, craggy- voiced, bearded bar owner with a big heart and a great boss. I also suspected underneath his Grizzly Adams’ face was a handsome man but this remained a mystery.

“Inky, you need me to bring anything up for ya?”

“No thanks, Rusty. My man, Jesus took care of it.”

“All right, sugar. Lisa called, said she’d be late. You mind settin’ her up?”

“Jesus can do it, boss.” Jesus was a really nice guy and the hottest Mexican guy I’d ever seen. He was like a living, breathing twenty-five year old Antonia Banderas – hot. I say, Mexican because he was indeed, from Mexico. He was raised in a place called Jalisco but came to California when he was twelve. He knew what he was doing, was lightning fast and had the best work ethic of anyone I’d ever known.

“I’ll have her set up before she comes in, boss.” Jesus got right to work but not before asking me, “Do you need anything else, Inky?”

“No thanks, Jesus. I’m good.” Rusty nodded and walked away into his boss-cave.

***

Four hours later and we were freakin’ slammed. Even with Jesus as our bar-back, we used a willing Evan to replenish ice while Rusty played bouncer at the front door. The night went quickly, no fights erupted and when one a.m. hit, we started to slow down. By last calls it was just the regulars and the staff.

I loved to sing but didn’t relish the idea of performing in front of a hundred people. Rusty always heard me humming along to whatever was playing on the stereo and encouraged me to sing at karaoke just once. Even though the crowd was substantially smaller by now, there was still my issue of stage fright.

I had just finished adding the last beers to the fridge, ready for the next day when Evan came behind the bar. “Follow me.” He pulled me behind him and toward the small stage area.

“What are you doing, Evan?” I asked warily.

Evan hopped up, pulling an amp off a chair and sat down in front of me. “Baby, I know you can sing and I know you want to sing. There’s hardly anyone here and the people who are here love you. So here’s the deal. I’ve already cued up a song for you, one you know. Don’t face the bar, face me. You don’t even have to open your eyes, but just try this one time. For me, okay?”

He handed me the microphone and the damn thing was shaking all over the place. More accurately, I was shaking all over the place. “Evan,” I said quietly, “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Yes you can, Ink. You can do this.” He held my hands around the mic to steady it and hit a button on the sound board behind him. “You got this, baby. Just relax and close your eyes. You got this.”

I did as he asked and closed my eyes. He was throwing me into the deep end and forcing me to sing but I wasn’t pissed. He was doing it out of love. When the intro to the song began, I smiled but still didn’t open my eyes. I had my favorites, as everyone does, but I loved a great Country ballad. The only other person I ever sang in front of was Aimes. She would turn the radio up in her car so loud there was no way anyone else could hear. She was also shockingly tone deaf which made me less self-conscious. Evan chose something I’d sung to him word for word. It started as a joke but he encouraged me to keep going. I started softly at first until I realized the music was blaring.

Of all the songs I loved to sing, Tammy Wynette was an excellent choice. “Belt it baby!” and when I hit the chorus, I did just that.

“Stand by your man…”

When the song finally ended to a small round of applause and whistles, Evan was holding my hand, full of pride. He was the first man I thought I could really let into my heart, my first real love, my first real risk. I’d always been guarded emotionally, knowing I was the only person I could depend on. But something about him changed that. I tried not to think too much about it. The things I didn’t want to share, I just kept to myself.

As I grabbed my coat and bag, Aimes (who’d been listening from the bar), took my arm and pulled me to the side. “That was really good Ink. I mean really, really good. Fuck art, you should totally be a singer.”

“As much as I appreciate that, it was like, five billion miles out of my comfort zone.” I shrugged.

“So you’ve said. Well, maybe you and your man can take it on the road. By the way, you keep calling him boyfriend instead of…fiancé. Say it with me, fiancé.” She teased.

“Yeah, I need to work on that.” I couldn’t look her in the face because this girl could see right through me. Instead, I looked over at the stage where Evan and Lisa were laughing about something.

“What? What’s wrong? Just tell me, Ink. I know you have all sorts of things swirling around up there in that head of yours. Is it because he hasn’t given you a ring yet?” She pointed to my hand.

“No, you know I don’t care about that. I just can’t believe he wants to marry me.” I sighed.

“And that’s a problem because…?”

“It’s nothing Aimes, really. I just get freaked out sometimes, wondering when the other shoe is gonna drop. This all happened really fast and I’m just freaking out that he’s gonna change his mind or something.” I kept a nervous smile on my face but she knew it wasn’t genuine.

“Inky,” she pulled me further away from the bar and spoke softly so no one would hear; “he loves you. I don’t know what made him want to ‘settle down’ (she made air quotes even with her hands full) so suddenly but he’s kind of impulsive like that. For whatever reason, he doesn’t want to fuck around anymore. He just wants you and you deserve to be happy. Don’t sabotage it because you’re afraid. I don’t mean that to sound harsh or anything but he seems happy.” She spoke with total and complete sincerity.

“You’re right, I know. I just can’t believe how great he is.”

“Listen, it’s none of my business but, as your best friend since forever, I wanted to ask you something: Have you told him?” She said this carefully and quietly.

“No, I haven’t”

“Why not?”

“Why do I need to, Aimes? It’s not important. Just like I don’t want to know about all the girls he’s been with. Why can’t this be the same?”

“It’s not the same thing and you know it. Hasn’t he ever asked what your tattoo means?” My entire back was permanently covered with a giant tree. Of course he asked about it. Everyone asked why I was called “Inky or Ink” instead of Anika. The meaning behind it though was a different story. “Yes. I told him about it without telling him everything.”

I said it with attitude.

“Don’t get defensive, I just figured that’s the kind of thing you tell the guy you want to spend forever with, that’s all.”

“Maybe I will but it’s not important and it’s not going to affect our future together, so until I have to, IF I ever have to, I’m not planning on telling him. Got it?”

“It is important, Ink, but put your claws back. I got it.”

I was grateful she didn’t push the subject anymore. It wasn’t like her to be so persistent. I knew she was just looking out for me but I wanted to leave the past in the past where it belonged. Unfortunately, deep down

I knew she was right.

***

I spent the short drive home looking out the window. We only had a few blocks to go but, you know, why walk when you can drive in Southern California? I preferred to walk and didn’t even have a car but Evan and Aimes insisted it wasn’t safe. When I was a kid, I walked everywhere, sometimes in the middle of the night, trying to be careful that the cops didn’t pick me up. My mother loved to play a little game called, let’s lock the front door and not let my 10 year old come in tonight. But I didn’t want to think about that, now or ever. It was one of the topics I didn’t want to elaborate on with Evan.

“Baby, where are you?” Evan wrapped his fingers through mine, driving one-handed as we pulled into the driveway. The girls got out and left us in the car, laughing about something that happened during our shift.

“I’m here. I was just being nostalgic,” I lied. “I’m still kind of amped up. Wanna go walk on the beach?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said squeezing my hand. “You know, Ink, you were really great tonight. I know it was hard for you to get up there and do that but please believe me when I say you have a lot of talent, a gift. I’m a musician you know. I can’t lie about something like being a good singer.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his professional opinion, “Thanks for that. Aimes said the same thing. I don’t know, singing in front of a bunch of people does not make me feel good at all, but I will happily sing for you any time you want to slum it with an amateur.”

“You’re pretty funny, you know that? I won’t push you to do anything you don’t want to, baby. Well, except for tonight. Tonight was an experiment. You have another month to work on another song and do it again. Even if it’s small-time karaoke, even if it’s just for me, you should always have a turn….Now, let’s go for that walk. ”

I wanted to tell him it was a one-time deal but secretly I loved the release that standing in the bar and singing gave me. It was a different kind of outlet compared to painting. He was right though, I had a month to prepare and I could always back out. The most important thing was him, he was there for me and he loved me. I felt like I could do anything if he was there and tonight proved that.

When Evan and I went to the beach, it almost always ended with sex. I think it was partly the thrill of being in a public place with the threat of being caught in the act but we both loved it. As we hit the sand, I slipped off my practical work footwear and socks and let the sand squish between my toes. When we reached the shore, we went to the right and settled under a wooden stair case that led to a private home. Evan pulled my hands around his neck and untucked my shirt from my pants, “It was great seeing you sing tonight.” He said kissing my cheeks.

“Thanks. How come you never sing? I always meant to ask you?”

“I’m not much of a singer. All my talent is in my fingers.” Those same fingers were moving across my t-shirt bra. The sound of small, low tide waves were lapping the shore.

Turning around, I put my hands above my head and held onto the step above me, pressing myself into his hardness. His hands felt wonderful, sliding beneath the cups and pinching my nipples. I dug my feet into the sand as he worked his way down, one hand holding my waist, the other undoing the button of my work pants and sliding them down my hips until they fell to my ankles. I knew his moves but it didn’t matter. I liked the familiarity of his touch. He kissed the back of my neck while he pulled my panties down to my knees and took his hand away from me only long enough to move himself between my legs, finding his destination. For someone who got stage fright, I was completely uninhibited here and, as he thrust inside me, my hands gripped the step above for leverage. I pushed back to help him go deeper, meeting his thrusts each time. He slid out for only a moment, his fingers dipped inside me and glided up to rub my clit.

Something was making him rougher than usual, more impatient and I loved it. As his breathing became more ragged and his movements more forceful, I desperately tried to keep my hold on the step but we fell together onto the sand, never losing our connection. The force hit me deep with a mix of pleasure and pain I found so erotic, that his urgency pushed me to the brink. Between each gasp I cried out, “I’m close, Evan…now!” In that moment we came together, his force causing us to fall further into the sand, panting and trying to catch our breath.