Skin

An Unexpected Return

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The pounding behind my eyes was beginning to radiate through my entire body, and evert thump aligned with the pointed toe tap from my ex-wife in front of my desk. I’d been fighting a migraine since I woke up that morning and her surprise visit had only worsened it. So much for any easy Sunday.

“Cal? Are you even listening to me?”

I blew out a sharp breathing, deciding just how much of a dick I wanted to be. “Not really,” I grumbled as I turned off the computer in front of me. The sooner I got Natalie out of here, the sooner I could go home and sit in the dark which was the only thing I cared about in this moment.

“Callum! This is serious!”

I tried swallowing my snarl as I blew a strand of ashy blond hair from my face. “Nat, look, I do not give a fuck about what Monty or any of the rest of the producer pool thinks. This is a business, my business and I’ll run it as I see fit.”

“The audience loves Jason!”

“I don’t care!” I shouted, the minuscule amount of tact I had finally evaporating. “Jason fucked up! I can’t keep letting his shit slide, Nat! He’s constantly late, he shows up high half the time if he shows up at all. Do you know how many of his appointments Bolt or I have had to pick up because he just couldn’t fucking be here?” I took a deep breath. Natalie of all people should understand. I loved Jason. Loved him like he was my own kid brother. I knew his family history and the litany of shit he’d gone through growing up. It wasn’t all that different from my own. I’d been there for him time and time again. I took him under my wing and tried to save him from the slippery slope he was hellbent on sliding down, but sometimes people need to hit rock bottom to learn. He needed to because nothing I said at this point was doing any good. I couldn’t keep cushioning his fall no matter how much it hurt even me. I couldn’t let his behavior bring down everything I’d worked my entire life to build.

“Jason brings ratings! Fans! They love his antics! They love the drama! We make more money from the show than the show does itself!”

“Who’s fucking we?” I asked or more demanded from her. “Last I fuckin’ checked you hated this place. Wasn’t that why you left? I worked too much. I didn’t come home early enough. You had no interest in my… what did you call it? ‘Little hobby’ when it was paying our bills.” I was being a dick on purpose, but I also wasn’t wrong. Natalie hated everything about the shop the second I bought it. She hated how dedicated I was to my craft, hated how much time it took me away from her. That part I kind of understood. I wasn’t home a lot, but the second I attempted to right that wrong, she was already half out the door. She didn’t give a fuck about anything Skin had provided for her until rich bitch Monty showed up wanting to put us on TV. Then she started fucking him.

“We were doing just fine before your boyfriend and his network came around. Hell, more than fine. If it wasn’t for the client base I already had, they wouldn’t have been interested in the first damn place.”

Natalie just glared and folded her spray tanned arms over her chest, a chest I swore was bigger than the last time I’d been… intimate with it, but I wasn’t about to say anything. “Well, if you hate the show so much maybe I should tell Monty to find another shop.”

“Oh no!” I exclaimed, faking the shock she wanted from me. I went so far as to slap my palms against my cheeks. “Whatever will I do?” I scoffed as my hands slapped my thighs. “I only signed up for this because you thought it was a good idea and you still left my ass for the producer with one foot in the grave.”

“He’s only fifty-seven.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“You can’t just piss off the network, Cal! They’ll pull the plug! Then what? What are you gonna do?”

“Um… I will go back to running a tattoo studio that isn’t full of camera men and Hollywood assholes twenty four fucking seven. Sound like a great fucking idea.”

The whole show thing could disappear tomorrow and I wouldn’t even blink with care. I hadn’t become a tattoo artist to get famous and I sure as shit hadn’t wanted cameras following me around every second of every day. I’d built this shop from the ground up. I’d apprenticed under the previous owner when I first moved to Los Angeles and the second he wanted to retire, I jumped on it. Clark, one of my mom’s exes, and the only one who’d ever treated me like their kid, chipped in. The man wasn’t even blood but he was the closest thing to a father I’d ever had. Even when they broke up, Clark kept in touch, kept taking care of the destructive kid of the addict he’d once dated. Even after I miraculously graduated from high school and Nat and I packed up for California, he was there. His death four years ago had rocked me to my very core. Add to it the fact that I could tell that the woman I’d loved my whole damn life was completely checked out of our marriage, and I damn near slid down the same path as my mother. But that would’ve dishonored Clark and all the work he’d put into me, and I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t let him down. He was one on a very short list of people that hadn’t abandoned me and that meant everything to me.

“You have a contract, Callum, for at least two more seasons. Do you really think it’s a good idea to breach it? Do you know what the studio will take you for?”

I was beyond fucking over this. I was beyond fucking listening to my ex-wife insert herself into my business. I just wanted to go home, shower and lay in a dark room in complete and utter silence. “I’m confused. When’d did you start pulling strings at the network? I don’t remember you being in any of the meetings.”

“Shut up. You know I…”

“Wait. You don’t,” I interrupted. “You don’t work at the network. Hell, you don’t work anywhere. So do me a fucking favor and go back to whatever palace Monty bought for you, and you tell him that if he or anyone else that is actually fucking paid to deal with me have problems with the way I run my business, then they can come talk to me. I am done explaining shit to my ex-wife. Got it?”

I was fuming and so far beyond over it, nothing would’ve been able to bring me back. Natalie hadn’t cared when Skin gained traction and I became one of the most sought after tattoo artists in the country. She hadn’t cared to assist with anything as I built up my client base. Hell, she hadn’t spent more than four hours in the shop since the day I took over. She hadn’t even attended the opening for fuck’s sake. Now, people came from all over the globe to get inked by me and my staff. We were the top shop in all of California and I did it without her. I did this. I built it, and cared for it, and carried it on my back for years before this damn show came to be. We got pregnant and we were both so excited… I don’t even remember noticing when things started going wrong. Next thing I knew, we were fighting at every turn. She resented me and everything the shop had given us. And when the network came calling, I signed the contract because she thought it would be good for us. I agreed to try and save the relationship I’d been in since I was fucking seventeen years old. I started working less and being home more. I thought things were getting better. I thought we were going to be a family, something I’d never fucking had. And then, three months after we started shooting, I walked into one of the supply closets to find her getting down with one of the camera guys. Six months after that, she was engaged to one of the producers before the ink was even dry on our divorce papers. She didn’t give a fuck about any of this except the pretty things Monty bought her with the money he made from my work. Fucking two years after our divorce and I was still living in the second circle of my own personal hell and I never wanted out of anything so badly in my life.

“Where’s Gia?” I asked, desperately attempting to change the subject.

“Dance class. We’re not talking about Gia right now.”

“And we’re sure as fuck not talking about how I run my business right now either because it ain’t got shit to do with you!” I winced as the pounding in my skull flared alongside my temper. “Look, Nat, my head is killing me. I just want to go home, not continue doing whatever this fucking is.”

“You can’t just walk out on this, Callum!”

“Why the fuck not? You walked out on me without batting an eye, this is nothing!”

Natalie let out a high pitched scoff and rolled her almond shaped eyes. “Is that what this attitude is about? Still pining after me after all these years, Cal?”

“I definitely wouldn’t call what I’m feeling for you in this moment pining, sweetheart. Not in any sense of the word.”

“It’s been three years, Cal. Get over it.”

“And yet I see you more now than I did then.”

“And who’s fault is that? I wasn’t the one here from sun up to sundown! You put way more effort into this place than you did your family.”

“Don’t fucking do that I was home every night. Maybe not when you wanted me to be, but I was there. You wanted to be a stay at home mom. I did everything in my fucking power to let you have that and somehow, I’m the fucking bad guy. Remind me which one of us was caught blowing someone in the break room again?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Then I think we’re done here, Nat, because I ain’t got anything left to say to you about it either. Tell Monty if he wants to talk, he knows where to find me.” I let out a groan as I rose from the chair I’d occupied since late that morning. The business side of things wasn’t really my favorite, but the shop was closed Sundays and it was easier to do it when I wouldn’t be bothered. Obviously my desire to be alone had gone over like a lead balloon today. “I’m gonna hit the head If you’d like to continue nagging me and follow, know that I don’t have it in me to be modest anymore.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“I know, Nat. I’m fucking awful. I got it.”

I heard the stomp of her heeled boot as I turned, starting for the bathroom halfway down the hall. Considering how slowly I was moving, I probably should’ve started this journey a few minutes earlier.

“God, Callum! Why do you have to be so fucking stubborn? This is a tattoo shop, not a convent! People expect you to do drugs and behave like assholes!”

“Not in my fucking house.”

“Unless it’s your mom, right?”

I froze, literally froze in place like my boots had turned into cement before I spun to face her. Nat had said a lot of hurtful shit over the last few years, but that? That was bottom of the fucking barrel. “Get out. Now.”

Natalie tutted like she was proud of herself. “What? Too close to home, Cal?”

“Get out. I won’t ask again before I call the cops for trespassing.”

“Whatever, Callum,” Natalie sighed, obviously bored by the whole situation. She slid her latest luxury bag up higher on her shoulder. “I need you to pick up Gia this week.”

My brows furrowed, pinching together in the middle of my forehead. “What? I’m not supposed to have her until Friday.”

“Yeah, well, Mont and I are heading to Palm Springs, so…”

“And you couldn’t give me more than twelve hours notice?”

Natalie shrugged as if worrying about who was in possession of our five-year-old was not something to concern herself over. “We just decided last night.”

“Fine, whatever,” I stated, waving her off. More time with my kid wasn’t ever going to be a hardship, but it would’ve been nice to know so I could’ve kept my schedule a little lighter for the week. “You and Monty go do whatever it is that you do.”

“Kay. I’ll pick her up next week sometime.”

“Real… specific there, Nat. I appreciate it.”

Natalie clicked away on her phone and I thanked whatever god was in charge that her attention was finally somewhere else. “Think about what I said, Callum.”

“I’ll get right on that, Natalie.”

She either completely ignored my sarcasm or missed it, but thankfully she headed for the door. My shoulders sagged in relief the second she disappeared into the night. At least until my bladder alerted me that I had roughly twenty seconds before I was going to piss my pants for the first time since kindergarten. I clenched my nether regions and darted to the bathroom, barely getting the light on before I whipped my cock out and aimed.

Talk about relief.

My brain swam, replaying the nonsense that had just occurred in the lobby. At this point, I had to wonder just how much I actually knew Natalie. Despite the fact that we’d been together the better part of twenty years, she was like a completely different person. Every once in awhile I’d get a glimpse of the girl I knew. The sweet tomboy I had instantly fallen for back in Detroit. I knew all the qualities that girl had couldn’t possibly be just gone, but Natalie was really good at getting those sweet memories to feel like a fever dream these days. At least I could lock up and go home now.

I shook the last few dribbles off and wrangled myself back into my jeans, but as I turned on the sink, I heard the chime of the front door. I groaned with annoyance, closing my eyes and praying the devil hadn’t returned. “We’re not open!” I shouted, making a beeline toward the front, wondering what kind of trouble I was in for now. I should’ve fucking locked the door after Nat left, but I’d honestly spaced it the second my bladder went feral.

“Don’t think I’ve heard that directed at me before.”

For the second time that night, I froze in the hallway, no more than three steps away from seeing who awaited me. But I didn’t need to see her. I’d have known that sexy fucking rasp anywhere despite it being a year and a half since I’d last heard it.

I took a steadying breath, trying to calm myself and the swarm of butterflies that had apparently taken over my stomach and headed into the lobby. Sure enough, standing just inside the front door was the one woman I’d even thought about giving my heart to since my divorce. And she looked every bit as beautiful as she had they day she threw it in my face and up and moved across the country without so much as a goodbye note.

Kady fucking Dillon.

Christ, if I could’ve dropped dead right then and there, I would have.

She hadn’t changed much in the last eighteen months. Long, candy apple red waves of hair falling against her shoulders, pale ivory skin littered with tattoos, most of which I’d done myself, small black gauges in her earlobes, a nose ring and curves made for sin that I could practically feel in my hands. The woman was stunning, always had been. We both stood motionless for a beat, her honey colored eyes locked on mine and glimmering with emotion under the bright overhead lighting.

Kady’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her hands wringing together as her eyes fell to the floor. “Cal, I…”

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Kady flinched at the sharpness in my voice. “I, um, I was looking for Jase and he wasn’t answering so I thought maybe…”

“Shop is closed Mondays, as I’m sure you remember. I mean you worked here, before you disappeared off the face of the earth. Or was that just when it came to me?”

Kady gulped, her lithe features heavy with guilt. “I just…”

“Jase isn’t here,” I stated, stepping back behind the desk and fiddling with papers I’d already fiddled with a thousand times that day. I couldn’t look at her any more. I couldn’t look into those eyes and not lose what little was left of my mind. Or self control.

Kady was one of the most talented tattoo artists I’d ever met. She’d applied for a spot with the old owner when I was apprenticing and her portfolio had blown me away. She had only been nineteen but she tattooed better that some of the old dogs that worked there. We, in a way, grew up together. I was only twenty three when we met, learning the ropes and forging our own lives. She became my right hand. Natalie had always questioned our relationship, but she was my best friend. Kady got me in a way even my wife didn’t. Our childhoods were eerily similar, both growing up with addict parents and struggling with school and any kind of authority. She was family. I’d hired Jason, her little brother, to try and give him the same outlet we’d had. When things fell apart with Natalie, she was there listening to my outbursts, holding my hand, keeping me from slipping into the darkness that was ready to choke the life out of me. She’d been my rock.

A year after the divorce was finalized, there was a shift between us. I’d have been lying if I denied that I’d always found her attractive, but I was born a faithful man. I had a lot of vices, a lot of characteristics most people would consider negative, but being a cheat had never been one of them. However, once those chains of marriage lifted…

We’d gotten absolutely obliterated one night at some random party she’d thrown and it set the parameters of our relationship into a tailspin. We slept together that night for the first, and what we swore would be the last time. We didn’t want to ruin what we had, and honestly, we were both terrified of doing something to lose the one constant we had. But the connection, the chemistry was too much to ignore. At first, it only happened when we were drinking, but within a few weeks it became late night calls and sneaking away when the shop was dead. I was in no place for an actual relationship and Kady had some on and off thing with a local rockstar so we’d stop when they were back on, and pickup the second they were back off. Friends with benefits or whatever the kids called it. Looking back, it was the dumbest thing I could’ve ever agreed to. I already cared about her far past what I would a random lay, but I convinced myself it would be fine. That we could make it work. And it was fine. Fine until she decided to give ol’ Greg one more last chance.

“Do you know…”

“He wouldn’t be here even if it wasn’t Sunday, Kady, so I don’t know what to tell you. I’m not your brother’s keeper.”

Kady’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “What do you…”

“I suspended him yesterday.”

Kady’s honey gold eyes blew wide open. “What?! Why would you…”

“Don’t. Don’t even fucking think about it,” I snarled. “Kid’s back on something and comes in here out of his fucking gourd every other day. Don’t fucking come in here playing the Big Sister card cuz I genuinely don’t give a fuck how you feel about it.”

“He promised. He doesn’t use…”

“I know what a fucking high looks like, Kady. Thanks.”

Kady blinked, looking like I’d just backhanded her across the face. “When’d you become so fun to talk to?”

“Maybe when my best friend jumped out of my bed and life without a fucking word.”

The fight in Kady’s eyes dimmed. Fast. “Callum…”

“I can’t do this right now,” I snapped, fighting off the torrent of emotions inside me. I yanked the band out of my hair and shook the locks into my face before flipping them back. “I’ve already dealt with Nat today so I really don’t have the energy to deal with your bullshit too.”

“Cal, I’m sorry. I know… I know I hurt you…”

“It doesn’t fucking matter, Kady. It’s over. I’m fine.”

“Clearly you’re…”

“Enough!” I shouted. “We’re not fucking friends, Kady! You don’t get to just prance back in here like nothing happened! Spare me the fake fucking apologies. Please. If you wanna find your brother, go check the local crack den or something, but get the fuck out of here.”

Kady’s eyes welled with tears and I swore I saw her start to shake. I was being a dick on purpose. I knew Jase wasn’t in a crack den. That had never been his drug of choice, and for a moment I felt a pang of guilt. I stared at her saddened expression for a beat and sighed. “If he’s not at home, he’s probably at Tinner’s or Fiona’s but I don’t know where she lives.”

Kady just sniffled and nodded. “Okay.”

She obviously had no intention of continuing our joyous reunion, not that I could really blame her considering how I’d been behaving, but I was hurt. And I had every right to be. There was a part of me, an increasingly loud part of me, that wanted to apologize as I watched her denim-clad heart shaped ass turn to walk away. Part of me wanted to stop her. Part of me wanted to apologize and ask her why she left, where she’d been, why she was back now. Maybe there was something I could’ve done to keep her with me. Maybe… “Kady.”

She took a deep breath before she glanced at me, her head still bowed toward the floor. “Yeah?”

“Where’s Greg?”

Why? Why was that the fucking on thing I asked?

Kady shrugged, her hands grazing her biceps as if she was fighting off cold. I noticed some faded, but still visible bruising along her right arm and immediately my stomach tightened. “Somewhere in Canada, I think. Didn’t really check the tour schedule before I left.”

“Are you…”

Kady shook her head, her gaze once again on the tiles beneath her feet. “Don’t. Please.”

“Left him or left New York?”

“Does it really matter?”

“Call it morbid curiosity.”

Kady’s shoulder lifted as she heaved a breath so deep her whole body shifted. “Both, but mostly him. Things got… bad and I couldn’t…”

I felt the hair on the back of my neck raise. “What do you mean things got bad?” I questioned as my shoulders grew tense. Her jitteriness, the bruises, it was all adding up and I did not like the sum of their parts. If that mother fucker…

“Don’t worry about it,” Kady dismissed, turning her back to me once again. “It’s not your problem, Cal.”

“Kady, what he do to you?”

Her eyes looked almost dead as I spotted them in her reflection on the door. “We’re not friends, right?”

“Kad-“

Before I even got her name out, she walked out the door, jogging across the silent street and climbing into a cherry red Jeep that I recognized as her friend Amber’s. I could see a flash of light as she lit up a cigarette and in the next breath she was gone, as if she’d never been there in the first place.

There was a voice inside telling me to go after her. Something was wrong. She wasn’t the same vibrant, sassy girl I’d fallen for. She wasn’t even the same girl I’d been nothing more than friends with for ten years before that. That bastard had done something to her and I needed to find out what it was. I’d always care about her on some level and she obviously needed support at the very least… but maybe that support could come from someone else, my still cracked heart stated. It wasn’t ready to forgive and forget. Not now, maybe not ever. I could watch over her from the sidelines. From our mutual friends, because putting any piece of myself back into her hands, I was certain that would only lead to more heartbreak.

And that seemed like the very last thing either of us needed.