Temporary (Indelibly Marked #2) (2 page)

“Are there any more questions?” Shane stood and so did
Carson.

Ivan tossed his apple in the air and caught it. “What’s with
the fruit?”

“Lindsay needs to eat healthy, so we all eat healthy,” Shane
explained. “We’re in this together.”

Ivan shrugged and took a bite of the apple. “I’m in.”

“I need you, Em. No stress.” Shane lifted his chin toward
her. “We will all work together. You and Ivan need to team up.”

“Of course.” Emily wasn’t sure if her new job would prove to
be baptism by fire, or maybe she would end up burning everyone. She forced a
smile and glanced at Ivan. They weren’t playing for the same team anymore.

~~*~~

“Do you want to take a ride?” Ivan held her motorcycle
helmet out.

Emily stopped her trek across Shane’s driveway. Since the
day she broke up with her boyfriend in her sophomore year, Ivan took her for
rides whenever they needed a break from reality. Complications with babies,
sleeping with her brother’s best friend, and taking over businesses weighed her
down. Before she made any change she needed to clear her mind.

“Let’s do it.” She put on the helmet and took her place
behind him.

Once more she held on to him as they wound through the
familiar canyon. With no question as to their destination, she closed her eyes,
tuned in to the rumble of the bike, and allowed the air to caress her.

At last, the motorcycle came to a stop and she didn’t need
to look to know they were at their favorite alcove in Beachwood Canyon.

Unlike the turnoffs meant for tourists with parking and
fences for safety, their little hideaway was nothing more than a clearing
between two large homes. Uneven and steep, the piece of land couldn’t be built
on, and it remained a little secret among the trees and next to the famous
Hollywood sign.

She slid off and took a breath, while Ivan pulled a blanket
from the bike’s storage compartment.

“Come on.” He took her arm and they made their way to the
edge of the hillside.

Ivan spread out the blanket and they sat in silence, taking
in the sights of the city.

Why were there certain people with whom silence wasn’t
torture, but normal? She and Ivan possessed the ability to simply be together
without words. Though technically his title was Shane’s best friend, she felt
the title truly belonged to her. She turned to him.

He gave her nose a playful tap and went back to gazing at
the view.

For a moment she studied his profile. If she were able to
draw like Shane, Carson, or Ivan, he would make the perfect male outline.
Unfortunately, her artistic talent was limited to her ability to create a
perfect cat’s eye with black liquid liner.

“Ivan?”

He shifted his focus to her and lifted his eyebrows.

“Do you think the baby and Lindsay will be okay?”

Somehow he always said the right thing. He considered his
answers and never lied. “I don’t think they would have let her come home if it
was really bad. I think they just need to take it easy.” He pursed his lips and
glanced up to the overcast sky. “It makes sense. After all, she’s making a
whole human being.”

She stifled a smile and scooted a bit closer to him. Yes, he
always said the right thing. “We have to make sure that we don’t give them any
anxiety.”

He nodded and pointed to the trees. “Look at the
hummingbird.”

Ivan always pointed the little floating birds out. Something
about them fascinated him. She glanced at the bird with a smile and turned back
to him, wishing she could see inside his mind. Was he thinking of them? The
shop? Something completely different? “Are you cool? You had a lot put on you.”

He shrugged.

“We can do this, right?” Sure, she assisted Lindsay and
Shane as her steady work between makeup jobs, but she’d never run anything,
unless she counted her tights.

“I think the shop sort of runs itself. We just have to make
sure nothing gets screwed up.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “We should be okay.
It’s only temporary.”

No, she didn’t pull away. Everything with Ivan was always
temporary, their relationship, the situation with the shop, but still she never
could resist any attention he doled out to her. While she might be on a mission
to change her life and focus on her career, in the matter of less than two
hours she ended up right where she started. “It’s funny how fast things
change.”

He tensed and focused on her. “I know exactly how fast
things can change.”

All day her heart had teetered at the edge, wanting to fall
and break. At the acknowledgement of his family tragedy, the poor organ
surrendered. Maybe one day she would remember to think before saying something.
She intertwined her fingers in his.

As chance would have it, she happened to be with him the day
his mother was killed in a car accident. It was his senior year in high school.
One second they were at the game store, the next her parents were pulling up to
get them. She still hated herself for being mad at her parents’ interruption.
Emily considered it a date with the object of her crush, but then realized what
happened.

“I’m so dumb.” She slid over, wrapping her arms around him.

“It’s fine.” He returned the favor and rubbed her back. “I
hate when you call yourself dumb.”

She rested her head on his shoulder. Only a dumb person
would break up with someone who never committed to her. Only a dumb person
would compare a few weeks of inconvenience to the loss of a parent. Only a dumb
person would never follow through with anything she wanted. “I don’t know if I
can do this.”

“Emily.” He took hold of her chin, forcing her to face him.

Hell, only a dumb person would think Ivan was made for her.
She resisted looking at him.

“Emily.”

As if he had her under a spell, she gazed into his eyes.

“When are you going to realize how smart you are?” He pushed
hair away from her face.

“When I don’t start every day thinking about the stupid
things I did the day before.” She took a breath, trying to cleanse her mind.
“I’m sorry about what I said.”

“You forget that you were the one who stayed with me every
second.” He moved his face closer to hers, his breath brushing against her
lips.

“That didn’t take any brains.” She didn’t let him out of her
sight. For two weeks, she moved into his house and took care of him and his
dad. At ten, she dubbed herself the woman of his house, a title she always
wanted on a permanent basis.

“You always underestimate yourself. I try not to think back,
but when I do, I always see you.” He pulled her in and gave her a light kiss.

Funny, all those years she’d secretly committed to him in
her mind, turned out to be the exact reason she had to end their non-committal
relationship. He wouldn’t give her the last bit and damn it, she wanted it all.
Though she wanted to resist his lips, she returned his kiss.

He moaned and leaned her back on the blanket, tilting his
head and giving her only enough time to inhale before he returned his mouth to
hers. His kiss was different, demanded more, spoke of what he needed, wanted.
As a teen she fantasized about his kisses, but reality far outshined her
dreams. His taste was sweet and manly, his mouth, strong. There had never been
awkwardness in any of their kisses. He knew her, knew how to make her tingle,
how to make her want him. Immediately, her body sizzled as it molded to his.
Though she knew every inch, she still wanted to explore. “Please.”

“Em.” He snaked his hand under her shirt, grazing her
breast.

She scratched her nails across his scalp. The last time they
made love there, they ran back to her place and made love again. Ivan said the
outdoors opened his appetite.

Trained to react to his touch, her body flooded and her
heart sped up. All she ever wanted was Ivan. Maybe they could come to a
solution that didn’t require being apart.

He trailed a series of kisses down her neck. “Something
about being out here with you opens my appetite.”

“What?” She leaned up on her elbows.

“Remember last time?” He pulled his shirt over his head. “It
can be the same.”

She stared down at his tattoos. Each one she knew by heart.
Those he covered with clothes etched his history on his body, like images
designed to ground him. Portrait work of his parents’ wedding picture, his
childhood dog, and artsy black and white work of the four Elliott siblings
graced the right side of his chest and stomach. She always assumed he left the
other side for his future.

“What about earlier?” She had to ask.

“What do you mean?”

For once in her life she needed to be smart. Think beyond
the instant gratification and go after what she wanted. “When we talked in the
shop.”

He braced his arms on either side of her, and blinked as if
he didn’t recall their conversation.

“Ivan, come on.” Did she have to repeat the whole thing?

“What do you want? Things are good, why not let them be?”

“I need things to change.” She dug her nails into the
blanket. Only hours after breaking up with him, she was fighting to be his
again.

“Other things may change in a blink of an eye, but we don’t
have to.” He pushed back and sat near her legs.

“Who do you see when you look at me?”

He squared his jaw.

“Who is it, Ivan? The Emily who can satisfy you like no one
else?” She quoted what he told her many times over, then arched her back
showing off the assets he adored. “Or the ten-year-old who ran around in an
apron, cooking and cleaning and praying you’d look my way?”

“I see someone who needs to grow up and deal with what she’s
dealt. Not every change is an adventure.” He grabbed his shirt. “Don’t make
plans. They never work out.”

“No matter what, I’ll always be eight years behind you.”
Even in the cool breeze, she broke out into a sweat. Before she slammed her
fist into something, she stood. “I’ll always be an Elliott.”

“Something we can’t control.” He got up as well.

“I’m going to work at the accounting office tomorrow.” She
turned to him. “Stay away from me.”

“If that’s what you want.” He gathered up the blanket. “We
had it good, Em.”

“We were stagnant.” With or without Ivan she needed change.

Chapter
Two

The tattoo shop ran itself.

Ivan repeated that mantra over and over again from the
moment he dropped Emily off without a word the night before, during his whole
sleepless night in bed, and as he drove up to Permanent. He did not think about
Emily. No. If she wanted to have a chick issue, she could have it without him.
The weeks ahead were bound to be a little hectic, and she would come running to
him looking for stress relief in no time.

“The shop runs itself.” He parked his bike, picked up his
bag of tricks and let himself in through the back door. His first customer
would be there within thirty minutes. All he needed to do was set up, give some
ominous looks to the other artists, and everything would run on a nice smooth
track.

“Where the hell have you been?” Tamsin Webb slammed her hand
on the doorjamb right by his head.

He jumped back and rubbed the side of his head. She’d caught
a couple strands of hair in the attack. As a redirect, he held up the bag in
his hand. “Bagels.” Fine, he’d resorted to one of Shane’s tricks and yes, he
picked up a chocolate chip bagel for Emily. If he saw Emily.

“Don’t ply me with your circles of dough. You’re late. Shane
always gets here by ten to deal with things.”

He pursed his lips and checked the clock on the wall, 11:45.
They had fifteen minutes to deal with these so-called
things
before he
needed to do his own work. “What things?”

She pointed behind her. “There is a call holding for you,
the autoclave won’t turn on, and we have two walk-ins waiting outside the
building.”

Before jumping in, he did as any businessman would do and
assessed the situation. Three things. Minor things. Not a problem. For the most
part, the shop ran itself. “Who’s on the phone?”

“Do I look like your secretary?” She narrowed her eyes.

He stepped backward, nearly tripping and falling outside.
No, Tamsin was no secretary. In fact, with her short blonde hair, tattoos and
hard body, she could be more of personal trainer or bouncer. “You look like a
tattoo artist.” He tried a grin.

“The smile only works with Shane.” She moved aside.

“Why is that?” He sidestepped around her.

“He would have been here dealing with all the crap.” Once
more she pointed to the front.

“I’m on it.” While he made his way to the front, he scanned
the stations, waving to the other artists along the way. Alfred had already
started his day with a customer at his station, and Carl was setting up.

Without a second glance, he passed their newest addition to
the Permanent crew, Billy. Shane’s latest protégée and resident portrait expert
came from the east coast, and received attention from anything with boobs. All
the women joked that Billy needed to be on the cover of a romance novel. As far
as Ivan was concerned they could have the quiet, brooding boy. If the man ever
learned to speak, maybe he would return the favor. Maybe.

At the front, he picked up the phone, holding it away from
his ear, avoiding the loud beeping landlines made when they were left off the
hook. “Problem one solved.” He hung up the phone and turned to find Tamsin right
behind him.

“The walk-ins.” She lifted her chin toward the front door.

“No problem.” He shooed her away. “You take one and let
Billy boy take one.”

“I have a customer coming and I’m still not your secretary.
Talk to Billy yourself.” She spun on her heel and stomped away.

“I also have a customer!” He hit the desk and looked toward
the back. “Booker!” he shouted. No way would he call this guy Billy unless he
planned on handing him a lollipop to go with his name.

In what seemed to take twenty times longer than necessary,
the man sauntered to the front. No doubt the women would describe his walk as
gliding.

“How are Shane and his wife?” Billy shoved his hands in his
pockets.

“Lindsay.” Even the simple act of the man asking a question
grated on him. Shifty. The man was shifty. “Her name is Lindsay, and you have
two walk-ins.” Delegation was the key to any situation.

“I don’t do flash,” he said and looked down at the floor.
“Or walk-ins.”

Ivan let out a chuckle and leaned on the counter. “Here’s
the deal, we all do walk-ins, and if that requires flash then that’s how the
story goes.” Of course, he didn’t do flash or walk-ins, but he was in charge.

“Shane and I discussed my rules.” Finally, the man looked at
him.

Seriously? Done with being second guessed, he stomped toward
him. “I’m not Shane. And if you call and stress him or Lindsay out, then I have
the authority to tell you to get a job at another studio.”

“I’ll make an exception because it’s your first day,” the
man said then strolled to the door.

“I’m the one making the exception.” Ivan glared him down,
waiting to move until the jerk let the customers in the door. “Get to work.” He
went back to the autoclave and tested it. Indeed the machine would not turn on
and he crouched down to inspect the back, glancing again at the clock. Any
minute his customer would arrive and he needed to prepare.

The phone rang.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

“I know no one here is my secretary, but will anyone who is
not fixing something or inking something answer the damn thing?” He wanted to
ram his head into the wall. How did Shane ever find the time to tattoo
anything?

“I got it!” The voice of an angel rang through the shop.

“She came to her senses,” he whispered. As if the heavens
had opened up with Emily’s arrival, he noticed the autoclave was merely
unplugged. Shane specifically said they were to work together and she always
listened to her big brother. He remedied the situation with the autoclave and
pushed up, wanting to get a glimpse of her. Ivan vowed to only torture her for
a minute for starting his day alone.

At last he spotted her, a light shining bright and pink with
the phone to her ear as she wrote on a scrap paper. She hung up and walked to
him.

His arms hurt from wanting to hold her in the worst way.
There in the shop, he could give her a hug and no one would be the wiser or
suspect he’d robbed the cradle.

“Hey.”

She nodded in his direction and went directly to Tamsin. The
woman hugged her and Emily gave her the note.

Okay. Torture went both ways. He crossed his arms and waited
for his appearance before the princess.

After tending to Tamsin, she doled out attention to Alfred,
and Carl, and practically skipped over to Billy at the printer making stencils.

All right. He didn’t hang around the Elliotts for over
fifteen years and not know the rules of their game. Though he did nothing
wrong, he needed to go to her. The entire family possessed the same annoying
trait. Maybe he shouldn’t go. Still, he found himself walking over to her.
“Saving the best for last?”

She peeked at him with a soft smile, one that told him she
didn’t know what to say. “I was at the accounting office all morning, but I
wanted to say hi to everyone. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine, whatever.” Out of the corner of his eye he
watched Billy with the stencils. Something seemed off.

“Did you see the story on Twisted Tattoo in the weekly
paper?” She shifted her focus to Billy then back to him.

“Not yet, I haven’t had a chance to take a breath.” He
narrowed his eyes trying to give her a signal. All he needed was that rival
studio garnering publicity without Shane, the media star, available.

“Maybe we can call Jake and get him to do a story here.”
With a slight nod she tapped Billy’s shoulder. “Can I see?”

“It’s just some flash.” He handed her the stencils.

Once Emily flipped through the pages he spied the issue but
remained quiet, wondering if she would catch it. Either way he had what he
needed on Mr. Pretty Boy.

“Is this all their paperwork?” Emily turned over one of the
sheets.

Ivan covered his mouth to hide a smile. She might not know
it, but the woman could run a tattoo shop with the best of them.

“I’m getting them ready.” Billy held his hand out. “I just
need to get them done.”

“We don’t make stencils until the customer has signed off on
the art and filled out the consent document.” She kept hold of the pages.
“Also, we don’t want any mistakes, so even if you have two customers coming in
together we keep everything separate.”

If he and Emily were back to normal, he would have corralled
her into the storage room and taken the opportunity to cop a few feels. “Also
no rushing no matter what the case.”

“I told you I don’t do flash and walk-ins.” Billy squared
his shoulders.

“And I told you that as long as I’m in charge, you do,” Ivan
shot back.

“Before I go back to the accounting office, let me help
you.” Emily motioned for Billy to follow her.

“Emily.” Ivan shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
How could he explain that he needed her there, and not locked away in the
office?

She stopped and turned back. “I’ll be in the next office
over.”

“I’ll be here,” he said, wondering if it was better to just
let things be the way they were.

Emily took Billy to the front as the bell on the front door
chimed and Ivan’s customer entered.

The second he lifted his hand to wave, the lights and
electricity went out.

“We blew a fuse, maybe that’s why the autoclave was
unplugged,” Tamsin called out. “You need to fix that.”

He put his hands on top of his head making sure his brain
remained in his skull. “The shop is supposed to run itself!”

“Who the hell told you that?” Tamsin laughed.

“I did.” He watched Emily leave and went to go fix the damn
fuse.

~~*~~

Ivan parked his SUV in the lot and rested his head on the
steering wheel. The mystery of why Shane never took up motorcycles was solved.
With the errands, the schlepping, the back and forth with every bag and box, a
bike was completely impractical.

The last three days hadn’t fared much better than the first
day. Every second served him up a generous portion of crap, followed by a side
of horrors, along with a nice dollop of bull. No wonder Shane ditched the shop
without Lindsay by his side. The job was completely impossible without a chick.
Out of the corner of his eye he noted that Emily had already arrived.

He pushed back, staring at the sun still high in the sky.
His hours had doubled. He downed his coffee and forced himself out of the safe
cocoon of his vehicle. Part of him wanted to dash down the street, far away
from the shop. Nothing was the same without Shane, Lindsay, and Carson. Emily
simply kept checking in with him, but he was a lone island in a sea of crap.

Rather than run, he slumped his way to the back door and
entered, spying the grim reaper herself. “Good morning, Tamsin. What wonderful
news do you have for me today?”

“I got nothing for you.” She leaned over her customer and
continued her work.

“Okay.” He inched inside the shop, glancing over at the only
other artist there at such an ungodly hour, Billy. With his back to him, the
man was also inking someone.

Only the faint thump of rock music and the buzz of tattoo
machines met his ears and he tiptoed over to Tamsin to peek at her work.

She wiped away the excess ink and waited.

He leaned down, assessing an intricate tribal design down a
woman’s spine. The lines were perfectly smooth, the fill-in, even. “That’s
going to turn out nice.”

At his words he swore she blushed, but since he was quite
sure she didn’t do girly things he backed away. Thus far, the day didn’t suck
ass.

Curiosity alone led him to Billy’s station. They all took
turns watching each other, and he wanted to know what Shane saw in the man.
“Can I take a look?”

Without a word Billy slid his stool back and turned to
several photographs of a young woman in a wedding dress. Ivan bent over the customer’s
chest. Though Billy worked from one photograph, he’d managed to get some nuance
from the other pictures in the tattoo, creating something unique. It appeared
as though the picture came to life on the man’s skin. Below the image were some
roses, as well as a birth and death date, earlier in the year. The woman was
Emily’s age exactly.

“That’s my wife.” The customer leaned up on his elbows.

“I’m very sorry.” His throat dried out and he wondered if
anyone bothered turning on the air conditioning. Memorial and tribute tattoos
always affected him. Every tattoo told a permanent story.

“Funny how fast life changes. I was upset because she didn’t
make dinner,” the man said, then returned to position.

“I understand.” The day Ivan’s mother died, he was pissed
because she forgot to give him money for game he wanted. Ten-year-old Emily
fronted it. In fact, he didn’t think he ever paid her back.

“Billy’s doing her justice. I’ll always have her with me
now.” The man held his hand out.

Ivan shook it and nodded at Billy. “Really nice work.”

Billy only acknowledged him with a tilt of his head, and
Ivan continued to the front.

In his new morning routine, he went through the mail, and
messages, and checked his appointment schedule as well as the schedules of the
other artists.

A knock at the front door jolted him out of his
concentration. He pounded his fist into the counter. He couldn’t handle
walk-ins. He had a customer coming in, and both artists on the floor were busy.
People needed to read the sign stating the hours of operation.

He stepped around the counter and opened the blinds. A man
in a suit stood there, and he rubbed his hands together before unlocking the
door and flinging it open. “We’re closed.”

“Shane Elliott?” The man flipped his sunglasses up.

“What about it?” People thought that if they knew Shane’s
name from some show, they’d get treated like a damn VIP.