On Solid Ground Read online

  Laughing, I brush off my own internal musings.

  I can sit here and go back and forth over how Dax must feel about me, but none of it matters. The bottom line is he didn’t need me to go with him. He didn’t want me with him. So he’s there and I’m here. For all I know, that’s how it’ll be forever.

  A loud shout from across the room breaks me from my own vicious cycle. “We’re moving tomorrow!” Violet draws a crooked “X” through the box on the calendar.

  After walking over to her, I pull her into my arms. “You’re right.” I kiss her cheek, blowing a raspberry there. “And then here,” I count off three more days on the calendar, stopping on Thursday, July 16th, “that’s when we can go get Mommy.”

  She spins in my arms so quickly, she hits the back of her head on my chin, making us spill onto the floor. “For real?” she gasps, near tears.

  “For real, sugar pop.” Tossing her up on my shoulder, I tickle her sides. “Now, let’s pack up the last few boxes before Lexie comes over to babysit you.” I hate to admit it, but Dax was right. The shop is no place for Violet, so instead of keeping both Lexie and Ty on the schedule for the same nights, I split their days and offered them the same money to help out with Violet. It’s not the perfect situation, but it’ll have to do for now. After Nikki comes home, well . . . I guess we’ll just have to figure it out at that point.

  Violet shudders, sliding from my shoulder into my arms. “She’s weird.”

  Laughing, I agree. “Yeah, she is, but she’s always been that way so I guess she’s kind of normal.”

  Shrugging, Violet drops from my arms completely. “Okay. Her Barbie is funny. It had needles in it.” Violet pulls a face, walking away toward my room where the rest of the boxes sit waiting to be packed.

  Shaking my head, I think maybe a little chat with Lexie and her babysitting tactics might be in order.

  A few hours later, Lexie shows up, pizza in hand. “Hey, Vi. Got your anchovy and mushroom pizza right here,” she announces in an overly exaggerated fake Italian accent.

  “Yuck,” Violet twists her face, pinching her nose closed. “That’s gross.”

  Peeking into the box, Lexie lets out a dramatic sigh. “Oh, dammit! They got it wrong. It’s just pepperoni.”

  “No!” Violet grabs for Lexie’s arm as she moves to leave, pretending to return the pizza. “That’s what I wanted.”

  “You sure? Because I can go take it back.” Lexie has way too much fun toying with Violet. Laughing, I think it’s because Lexie’s mental age isn’t all that far from Violet’s. After a few more adamant protests, Lexie finally concedes. After she gets Violet situated with her food, I pull Lexie to the side.

  “Thanks.” Sliding some money into her hand, she pockets it quickly. “Look, cut it on the voodoo shit, will you?”

  Holding her hands up in defense, Lexie laughs. “What? I was just teaching the girl a few tricks. You never know when she’ll want revenge on an ex-boyfriend or something like that.” Shooting her a look, she laughs even more. “Okay, fine. You win. No more voodoo,” she gives in finally.

  Bending down, she pulls a box out her back pack. “How about an Ouija board?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Okay, fine. No Ouija, either. We’ll watch some cartoon shit and read Mother Goose ’til we puke. Happy?”

  Tapping my finger on the tip of her nose, I say, “Very. Now make sure she’s in bed by eight, at the latest.”

  “Yes, dear,” Lexie quips, shoving me out the door.

  For all her eccentricities, Lexie is a good egg. I’d put money on the idea that she actually has Candy Land in the Ouija box. She might not seem like it, but Lexie is actually responsible enough to be left alone with Violet for the night. And Violet knows to call 9–1-1 if anything happens, I rationalize to myself pulling out of the lot, looking up to my apartment balcony.

  That damn balcony makes me think of things with which I’d rather not bother. Namely, Dax on his knees, pulling me deep into the back of his throat, covering me with his hard body as my nosy neighbor peeks out her window.

  Even if I don’t think of him now, it’s pointless really. I’ll just think about him later when the tattoo gun is vibrating in my hand, when I’m not having a cigarette at work because I promised him I’d try to quit. I’ll think about him later when I curl up into an empty bed that still smells like him. I’ll think about him when I’m alone, jerking off, wishing it was him touching me, calling out his name as if he’d actually be able to hear me.

  When I drive past his old building, my fingers itch to dial his number. There’s such a huge part of me that needs to know how he’s doing. Has he had any attacks? Is his dad okay? When will he be back? Does he think of me?

  I keep driving.

  I don’t call him.

  And he doesn’t call me.

  I’ve been in this holding pattern for the past two weeks, and as I pull up to work, I wonder when it’ll stop being a holding pattern and start becoming my new reality.

  “You look like fucking shit,” Ty declares, clapping a hand on my shoulder as I walk through the door of the shop.

  “Well, gee thanks.” Twisting my arm over my shoulder, I push him back. “And you’re a beauty queen, motherfucker.”

  “Ohh,” he draws out the word, like a seventh grader taunting someone else into a fight. “That’s a good one. Really burned me,” he laughs, plopping himself down into the rolling desk chair behind the counter. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

  Pulling out everything I need for the night, I ignore his line of questioning. I’ve thought about Dax enough today. Time to bury it down and get on with the show. Knowing Ty won’t let up unless I give him some piece of information, I shrug and I sigh, “It’s just the move. It’s a lot to take on.” Once the words are out of my mouth, I realize moving and Nikki being released are weighing on me just as much as Dax. I can’t help but wonder how much easier it would be to deal with them if Dax were here.

  “It’ll work out,” he assures me. For all his short comings and general douchbaginess, Ty’s a good friend. “Do you think Nikki is ready to come home? You think she’ll be okay?”

  “This is the first time she’s ever had to be away from Violet and I think it’s really killing her. It feels different this time.” Crossing my fingers in front of me, I add, “Fingers crossed, it really works.”

  Holding out his fist for me to bump, he says, “Me, too, bro,” pulling me into a half-hug. “You sure your foul mood has nothing to do with that early morning wake-up call from lover boy?”

  “I knew you couldn’t resist.” Shoving him away from me, he laughs and rubs over his chest as if I’ve actually hurt him.

  The bell above the door jingles as Ty punches me on the arm. “That’s probably your first appointment. I’ll get the paperwork started.”

  A few minutes later, I step out into the front of the shop and greet my customer. Something about him rubs me the wrong way instantly. There’s something hard and angry about him. It’s in the set of his shoulders, the black, dead centers of his eyes, and the sneer of his mouth. Owning a tattoo shop means having to deal with my fair share of assholes. Looks like tonight is my lucky night.

  Flipping through his paperwork Ty just handed me, I realize a copy of his license is missing. “Looks like my lowly assistant missed something,” I attempt a joke to cut the cold silence standing like a block of ice between us. “I just need a copy of your license, Smith.”

  He grunts and rolls up his sleeves. Pushing them past his elbows, he exposes two forearms completely covered in ink. “I think I know what I’m getting myself into. Don’t you?” He cocks his head to the side, egging me on. “All I brought with me was this.” He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a wad of cash. “Charge me extra if you need to.”

  The guy is clearly over twenty-one—hell, he looks like he’s pushing forty-five. And with the very real threat of a new rent, nearly double what I currently pay looming over my head,
I bite my tongue and accept his deal.

  I need to get lost in my work anyway. “Okay. Then let’s get started.” I walk him back to my work station, feeling his eyes on my back the entire time. Moving to the side, I let him walk in before me—I can at least be that polite, considering all I really want to do is ask him what the fuck his problem is.

  With an uneasiness I can’t really place, I walk over to my sketchbook, and open to a new page, ignoring the pull I feel toward Dax’s picture. As I search through the drawer for a pencil, Smith closes the door, setting me on edge even more.

  “Where is she?” he mutters quietly.

  Three simple words spread chills of fear racing all over my body. The pencil drops from my hand in what feels like slow motion.

  “Who?” Defensiveness sets in giving me some semblance of bravery. “And who are you?”

  “Don’t worry about me,” he seethes as he steps closer. The room shrinks around me. “Just tell me where she is and we’ll be done here.”

  It has to be about Nikki. From the second I laid eyes on this guy, I could tell he was nothing but trouble. And nothing screams trouble like the people who Nikki hung around with before she was sent away. “Look,” I try my best at placating, holding my hands up, and palms out in front of me. “If this is about money, then just tell me how much and I’ll take care of it.”

  An ugly flip of laughter drops from his mouth as it curls into a mean-looking smirk. “This isn’t about money, asshole.” Standing toe-to-toe, he’s literally breathing down my neck. “She’s mine and I’m not letting you or your trick-turning, heroin-addict sister take her away from me.”

  My stomach flips, vomit rising in my throat.

  Violet.

  He laughs almost maniacally. “Yeah, her. Where is she?”

  The chills of fear I felt earlier instantly change into ones of anger. A protectiveness that I’ve only ever felt for Violet pulses through my veins, rushes loudly in my ears, pumps through my heart and gives life to my words. “Get the fuck out of here, now, asshole. If you know what’s good for you,” I step closer to him, pushing him out of my station on each word.

  Before I even see him make the move, he curls his fist in the collar of my shirt, spinning me around behind him, pressing me up against the wall in the hallway. Pictures crash to the floor around us. One cracks me right above my eyebrow, slicing through my skin easily.

  “What the fuck?” Ty yells, barreling toward us. Smith, which I’ve now just realized is obviously not his name, drops me to the floor. My hands skid across a few shards of glass, cutting open my palms.

  In one smooth motion, Smith knocks Ty out cold, with one swift hard fist. Standing over both of us, Smith sneers. “I’ll find her. I promise. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

  Skittering to my feet, all I can do is watch him walk out the door. Even though I would put money on the fact that all the information he gave us on his paperwork is fake, I call the cops anyway, hoping they’ll be able to do something.

  “Ty,” I slap him lightly on the cheek. “Get up, man. I need you to wake up.” Clumsily, he pushes himself up against the wall, scrubbing a hand over his face.

  “What the fuck was that?” he mumbles, rubbing over the swelling lump under his eye.

  “I think it was Violet’s father. Look,” I hold out a hand, helping him up, “I need to get home. Now.” Nodding, he walks me to the door, promising to let the police know as much as he can.

  “Thanks, man. I owe you. Just give them my address when they get here and they can talk to me there.”

  My attempts to call Nikki on the way back home go unanswered. I don’t know what I expect her to be able to do anyway. Knowing that this could actually trigger her, set her off down the wrong way again, I’m relieved when I can’t get in touch with her.

  Nervously, I keep checking my rearview mirror to make sure no one is following me. Despite feeling like he’s somewhere out there behind me, I war with the idea of making a few unnecessary turns in the hopes of losing him. What if he’s already at my apartment? What if he’s already pushed his way in and taken Violet? Or worse, hurt her?

  Those thoughts make me speed faster.

  As I pull into my parking lot, my cell rings. “What is it, Ty?”

  “They just dispatched someone to your apartment. They’ll be there in a few minutes. Let me know what happens.”

  “Thanks, they’re pulling in now.” Ending the call, I step out of my car as the sirens approach. Waving them over, I feel my nerves calm marginally.

  “What’s the emergency?” An officer, who introduces himself as Mitchell, asks in a calm voice.

  “Someone threatened me at my shop.” In a moment of clarity, his name comes to me. Stupid fuck didn’t do too much to throw me off course. “I don’t know for sure, but I think his name is Carson Smith. Busted open my eye and beat up my friend. He was threatening me to tell him where my niece is. He used to be mixed up with my sister. She’s in rehab now.” Choosing my words carefully, I make sure not to call Violet his daughter. Even if he did donate his DNA, she’ll never belong to him. Over my dead body. “I rushed home as soon as I left the shop.”

  “Did anyone follow you?” the other officer asks, unsnapping the holster on his gun.

  “No,” I shake my head. “My friend is babysitting my niece. Apartment three B. I haven’t been up there yet.”

  Officer Mitchell relays the information through his dispatch. All I can do is watch on silently for what feels like eternity as they decide the best approach.

  “You’ll follow behind O’Leary,” Mitchell decides, pulling his gun from his hip. They exchange a few more technicalities before we fall in line.

  “Just stay behind me and move off to the side of the landing as we get to the door,” Officer O’Leary coaches as we climb the stairs.

  Standing outside the door, I’m relieved to hear the sounds of laughter filter out through the open window. It stops when Mitchell knocks on the door. “Police,” he announces. “Open the door.”

  With the chain lock still in place, Lexie cracks the door open. “Hello?”

  Mitchell holds up a badge. “Is everything okay in there?” he asks calmly, sliding his badge back into place.

  “That old hag is unreal,” Lexie mutters as she unlocks and opens the door. “We weren’t even playing the music that loud. Besides, who doesn’t love a little “Let It Go”?”

  Following behind Mitchell and O’Leary, I’m relieved to see that everything looks exactly like I left it. Well, except for the huge mess of toys and games spread out across the living room. Still on a rant about old Mrs. Adams, Lexie doesn’t even realize I’m with the officers until Violet squeals out, “Uncle Beck!”

  “Hey, sugar pop.” Lifting her into my arms, I squeeze her until she says she can’t breathe. “Can you do me a super huge favor?”

  “Of course,” she answers proudly.

  “I need a new picture for work. Can you go draw me something super special over at your little table?”

  Nodding wildly, she agrees and bounces off to her new art project.

  Returning my attention back to Lexie and the officers, I fill everyone in on what happened earlier.

  O’Leary relays the information back to the dispatch. “They’re going to keep a patrol car through the area all night. They’ll get an unmarked car set up in the next day or two, but don’t hesitate to call if anything happens.”

  “Why don’t you two just come with me?” For the first time ever, there’s something else besides bravado in Lexie’s voice.

  O’Leary chimes in. “Might not be a bad idea for you and the girl to get out of here, at least.” He tips his chin over to Violet.

  “I don’t want to bring trouble to anyone else. Besides, if there are going to be officers patrolling the area, here is safer anyway.” There’s panic in my words, despite my best efforts to keep it hidden.

  “She can stay with me for the night,” Lexie offers. Mitchell and O’Le
ary leave us to figure out what we’re going to do as they finish up some paperwork in the kitchen.

  “Lex, look. I appreciate it more than you know, but I’m not leading this guy to you. I’ve got this.” She doesn’t agree with me, but there’s no middle ground as far as I’m concerned.

  “Unfortunately,” O’Leary waves us into the kitchen, “without much more than a physical description, and what might be his name, we don’t have much to go on. And since we can’t keep patrol cars on both places for the night, why don’t you come down to the station for a while. You can meet with the sketch artist and fill out the rest of the paperwork. Hopefully, by the time we’re done down there, the guy will have given up on you for the night. We’ll still keep the cars out in the neighborhood, but by the looks of it,” he tips his chin to the stack of boxes in the corner, “you won’t be here much longer. We’ll have an unmarked car take all three of you to a hotel, and a few patrol cars drive back to each of your places to throw the guy off in case he is following. Sound good?”

  Lexie and I nod at each other, pleased with his plan of deterrence.

  A few hours later, they drop us at a motel about a half an hour away. Certain that no one has followed us, we get out of the car and check into our small room. Mitchell gives us a number to call before he leaves, but despite his final reassurances, I feel anything but at ease.

  Exhausted from her more than eventful night, Violet is out like a light within two seconds of hitting the bed. Lexie curls up next to her, humming the tune of “Let It Go.” After pulling a blanket up around them, I step out onto the small balcony of our second-story room.

  Rubbing over the stupid nicotine patch on my arm, I hate Dax for making me promise to quit. Nothing would be better than a smoke right now. Well, nothing except maybe Dax’s voice. I can’t shake the feeling that if he were here, I wouldn’t feel so lost and alone.