Fractures in Ink Read online

  Her eyes went wide as she realized her mistake.

  “What does that mean?” Xander barked.

  “That I should knock when I come back.”

  “Why?”

  Her voice trembled. “Because you want privacy.”

  Xander snapped his fingers. “Come here. Now.”

  She scurried over, shooting a hateful glare in my direction. She bumped the corner of the desk, and the drink in her hand sloshed over the edge of the glass, spilling across the smooth wood surface.

  Xander grabbed her by the back of the neck and forced her face to the desk, her cheek displacing the spilled contents into a wider puddle, soaking papers in its radius.

  His voice was gravelly with barely restrained rage as he leaned down to whisper next to her ear. “Do you see the mess you’ve made? Clean it up.” His eyes lifted to me. “Unless you plan to be part of this, I suggest you get the fuck out.”

  I jumped up, nearly toppling the chair in my rush to follow his order.

  “And close the fucking door.” Xander’s malicious grin and Trixie’s fearful eyes were the last things I saw as I pulled the door closed. I hurried through the small waiting room and burst through the door to the club, jumping as it slammed shut behind me.

  Grant, head of security and Xander’s shadow, snapped to attention at the loud noise, and his right hand twitched by his side. His brows pulled low as he looked me over in his assessing, clinical way. Despite being in Xander’s back pocket, he always seemed to be looking out for the girls.

  I took a deep breath, trying to shut down my visions of all the scenarios that could be taking place in Xander’s office, and was relieved Grant was there to run interference. I’d never seen Xander lose it like that. From what I’d heard the girls say, Trixie was an E-head, but it hadn’t erased her look of terror when I left her in there alone with him.

  Grant pushed off the wall. “What happened?”

  “Trixie.” It came out a croak.

  He crossed the empty, low-lit club in three easy strides. He stopped several feet away when I raised my hands in defense, as if to ward him off. His usual flat demeanor dropped for a second, and his expression softened. Well, as much as it could.

  “I’m not gonna hurt you, Sarah. Now, breathe and try again.”

  “Trixie didn’t knock. And she spilled Xander’s drink on his desk, and then he got... mad.”

  “Mad how?”

  “Aggressive.”

  “Shit.” He palmed his walkie-talkie, muttering under his breath about not signing on for this. “Max, I need you in here stat. We’ve got an office issue.” He clicked off and shoved the walkie in his back pocket, his eyes returning to me. “You should go.”

  “I should go,” I repeated.

  “Now.”

  When I didn’t turn right away, he put his hands on my shoulders, thumbs smoothing down the sides of my neck. The severity of his expression didn’t at all match the softness of the contact. It was foreign and slightly unpleasant because of the intimacy in it. “You did the right thing by walking away. I’ve got this. Go.”

  I whirled, as much to get away from the feel of his fingers on my skin as the trouble in the office, and walked quickly back toward the dressing room. Max rushed past me, lips set in a grim line as he followed Grant into the office.

  When I’d worked at The Dollhouse, my manager had been female. Sienna had been volatile and manipulative, just like Xander was turning out to be. But Xander had the physical presence and ability to do real damage to the girls when he lost it. That was terrifying.

  There were still a few girls hanging around when I passed through the dressing room, but at least Candy was gone. I headed for the small room off the dressing area where wait staff like myself had separate lockers to keep our things and a place to get changed and do makeup. The dancers all had vanity stations where they prepared for their sets. The tremor in my hands was hard to hide as I struggled with the combination lock.

  “Max ran through here like his ass was on fire.” One of the girls eyed me suspiciously.

  I slung my bag over my shoulder. I wanted to get out of here, but Dee, short for Destiny, and one of the few girls I spoke to on a regular basis, stepped into the doorway. She’d waitressed with me at The Dollhouse, and she’d been the one to tell me this job would be better. Yet recently she’d gone from serving drinks to dancing. I worried about her a lot these days.

  “Do ya know what’s up with Max?” she asked.

  The chatter stopped, all eyes on me.

  “Something with Trixie,” I mumbled.

  “I hope that bitch gets it, stepping in on Candy’s territory like that.”

  Maybe she was the reason Candy was no longer on center.

  “I have class in the morning. I should go.” As far as the rest of the girls knew, I went to community college and was undecided on my major. They had no idea I was in the last months of a MBA. The truth would only serve as more ammunition to make my life difficult. It was bad enough that I was in college at all. My potential escape would be impossible for most of these girls, and they hated me because of it.

  “Hold up. There’s no one on the door. I’ll go with you.” Dee grabbed her bag from her station. “See you later, girls.”

  Dressed in a pair of white terry shorts and a sheer tank top, complete with four-inch heels, Dee had started to look the part of a stripper both inside the club and out. Her long, dark hair fell in waves almost to her waist. Her eyes were also dark, and at the moment highlighted by fake lashes and pale eye shadow. She was pretty, prettier still without all the makeup. And she wasn’t gossipy in the same spiteful way as some of the others.

  Once we were outside with some distance between us and the club, Dee asked, “Is Trix okay?”

  “I don’t know. Xander was pretty pissed.”

  “I told her not to get involved, ya know? Like, it was a bad idea, but she doesn’t listen. It’s like something isn’t right in her head.”

  “Sometimes people need to learn on their own.” I certainly had. I stopped in front of my Tercel. It now ran better than it had in a long time because of Xander. But his generosity didn’t come without a significant price.

  “I don’t think she’s ever gonna learn. She’s killed what’s left up there with all the blow and the E.” Dee surprised me when she grabbed my wrist. “You stay where you are. Don’t do what I did. It’s not worth it.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Promise,” she said fiercely.

  “Of course, Dee. I promise.”

  The look on her face made me want my words to be true, although when it came to my debt, I had no idea what Xander was going to ask for. I could only hope it wasn’t me on a stage. My regret over losing Chris hit me again. It seemed magnified in the wake of Candy’s recent revelation.

  The back door opened, and a couple girls came out. Dee dropped my wrist and walked away without another word. But her relief at my promise would haunt me for weeks to come.

  I didn’t have to unlock the doors to get in my car. I never kept anything in it besides the owner’s manual and a box of tissues. Tonight, after I slid inside, I reached across and slapped all the buttons, locking myself in.

  The scene in Xander’s office had unnerved me. I was sure he’d done it not just to show Trixie who was boss, but also to garner a reaction from me.

  I left the lot, wanting to get as far away from The Sanctuary as possible, but at a red light I checked my messages. Ones from Lisa and Tenley took up the top spots. The unchecked ones from Chris weren’t too far down. He’d messaged me the night before last, and several other times since we’d broken up. I’d left them all untouched, worried that if I checked them, I’d respond. This time I gave in.

  Just because you quit me doesn’t mean you have to give up everyone.

  There were messages before that one asking if I was okay, telling me he was around if I wanted to talk, and another saying he’d bring my stuff to the shop if I wanted it back.

>   A loud honk behind me alerted me to the green light. I took a right, heading for Chris’s place instead of mine.

  I sent a one-word message:

  Candy?

  Ten minutes later I pulled into the lot behind his apartment building. His bike was parked at the top of his spot, maybe out of habit since it used to allow enough space for my car, too. I wasn’t sure what I expected. It was after two in the morning. I didn’t have a key anymore, so unless the door to the building was propped open, which it often was, and I somehow managed to wake him up—he slept like the dead—all I’d accomplish was looking like a desperate idiot haunting his building in the middle of the night.

  I tapped the steering wheel, my attention moving to the dashboard where one of Chris’s old Post-its still clung. He left them for me all the time. Or he used to. Some were sweet sentiments or little notes, other were instructions.

  Usually I’d peel them off whatever surface he’d stuck them on and tuck them away in a box. I’d left this one on my dash for no other reason than I liked the reminder of his sweetness, particularly after a long shift at The Sanctuary. It said EAT ME. It had been attached to a bag of my favorite candies, which Chris had thoughtfully left in my car. He’d stuck the note on my dash and proceeded to eat half the contents of the bag. The hot pink paper had now been bleached almost white by the sun.

  Cutting the engine, I shouldered my bag and rounded the building to the front entrance. The door was propped open with an old newspaper. I slipped in, tossed the newspaper aside, and climbed the stairs to the third floor. A pungent air freshener had been deployed, but it didn’t mask the scent of stale cigarettes or body odor.

  Chris should’ve been able to afford to live in a better neighborhood, but he helped out his mom and his sister a lot. This past winter he’d replaced their furnace, and he constantly seemed to be paying bills for them. It was another reason I hadn’t wanted to go to him when my car broke down. I didn’t want to seem like I was using him the way his mother did, which was something I understood only too well.

  I didn’t stop to think about what I’d say if he happened to answer the door. I gave a few sharp raps and waited. I could hear the TV. If I’d still had a key, I was sure I’d find him sleeping on the couch.

  I rested my head against the cold steel, considering my options. This favor Xander would eventually call in could be a bad one, and I would have that hanging over me until it happened. But right now it seemed like I’d given Chris up for nothing. I didn’t want to drag him into a situation he had no interest in handling, or go to him after I’d compromised myself, but I also didn’t want Candy to have him again.

  But I couldn’t tell him about the deal I’d made with Xander. If I did, he probably wouldn’t want me back. I wouldn’t feel good about giving him half-truths, but there didn’t seem to be any other choice. And if he ended up back with Candy, that would be far worse. She deserved him less than I did.

  She was the reason I knocked one more time, softly. Just as I was about to give up, the heavy tread of feet made the floor vibrate.

  I backed up so he’d be able to see me through the peephole. The seconds seemed endless before the door finally swung in, revealing a heavy-lidded, half-dressed Chris. Sweats hung low to reveal a large dragon snaking up his ribs on the left. Ink climbed from his wrist along the tight, thick muscles of his forearm to his shoulder. Dark blond stubble accentuated the heavy line of his jaw. His tongue dragged across his plush bottom lip as he blinked. His steel blue gaze moved slowly over me, and he ran a hand through his blond hair. He was as gorgeous on the outside as he was on the inside, and I’d stupidly given him up.

  Hopefully I could fix that, unless he’d already decided Candy was the one he wanted.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Chris

  Sarah was standing in the hallway outside my apartment. It kind of felt like Groundhog Day. She’d shown up like this months before, knocking on my door before she had a key to get in. She’d been wearing a similar outfit: worn jeans with tears at the knee and a loose-fitting shirt that hung off her shoulder, the strap of her tank top peeking out, her duffle crossed over her chest. Like those days early in our relationship, she was still wearing her face from the club. Even with the unnecessary and overdone makeup, she was gorgeous.

  Her gaze moved over me quickly before it dropped to the floor, and she adjusted the strap of her bag. “Hi.”

  “What’re you doing here?” It wasn’t the friendliest greeting, but I was still half-asleep, trying to figure out if this was a dream or real.

  “I-I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” If I had a million dollars, I’d bet Candy said something to her about seeing me. Which had sort of been the point. Sarah showing up at this hour hadn’t been expected, though.

  She shook her head. “I didn’t really think this through. I’m sorry.”

  “What are you talking about?” She was fidgety and quiet, not her usual fiery self.

  “Me coming here like I have some kind of right.”

  She turned as if she was about to walk away, so I grabbed her wrist. “Hey. Where are you going?”

  “Home. It’s the middle of the night. It’s not the best time for a conversation.”

  I pulled her into my apartment, closing the door and turning the lock—not so she couldn’t get away. Well, mostly not. Mostly it was to keep the neighbors where they belonged, on the other side of the door. There was a woman down the hall who’d wandered in before when I’d fallen asleep on the couch. I’d woken up to her rifling through my fridge.

  “You must have a pretty good reason for showing up in the middle of the night, so you might as well come in and tell me what it is. Unless you’re just here to get screwed. I’m not down for that.”

  As much as getting naked with her would be awesome, I was past the point of us being about just that. So there was a conversation we needed to have before that was even a remote possibility.

  “You think I’m here for a booty call?”

  “I’ve been used for less.” I crossed over to the couch and flopped down, patting the cushion beside me. “Might as well sit.”

  Sarah dropped at the corner, instead of right beside me. “I’m not here for sex.”

  “So you thought you’d stop by for a chat at three in the morning? You do realize I work right across the street from your apartment, right? You can pop by any time you want. I’m pretty much always there.”

  “Did you sleep with Candy?” she blurted.

  “What?” There was the fire I was used to.

  “Candy. Did you sleep with her last night?”

  “Is that what she said?” Candy was pretty good at embellishing, and it would be just like her to pretend that’s what had gone down.

  “So you did?” She looked halfway pissed and half ready to cry, which was atypical. Normally, Sarah had a backbone of steel. It was one of the many things that had drawn me to her. I’d later learned that under all that attitude was a soft, sometimes self-conscious woman who was afraid to get close to people. Just like me. Which was why we’d worked. Until we didn’t.

  “You came here in the middle of the night to find out if I fucked Candy?”

  “It’s one of the reasons.” She ducked her head so all I could see was a veil of pale blond. “I’m guessing that means yes.”

  “Uh, no. I didn’t.”

  She raised her mascara-heavy lashes. “But you had breakfast with her.”

  “I met her at a restaurant.” I couldn’t quite figure Sarah out right now. The fire was gone again, making her subdued in a way I wasn’t used to.

  “Oh.” She picked at the frayed threads of her jeans, making the hole at her knee bigger.

  “Not quite sure how you made the leap from bacon and eggs to screwing.” I was actually one hundred percent sure Candy had made it seem like that’s what happened on purpose to needle Sarah.

  “I guess I assumed that if you were having breakfast with her it was because you’d spent
the night together.”

  “You know what they say about assumptions.” I stretched my arm across the back of the couch. I wasn’t sure I liked that my potentially screwing Candy had been the motivation that brought her here. But at least I could get an answer to the question that had been eating at me since yesterday morning.

  Before I could ask, Sarah spoke up. “I made a mistake.”

  “What kind of mistake?”

  “I shouldn’t have asked you for a break. I don’t really want one.” She rested her cheek on her knee and regarded me with sad eyes.

  Well, that sure wasn’t what I’d expected. “So why’d you ask for one?”

  She was quiet for a few long seconds before she finally said, “I panicked.”

  I waited for more of an explanation, but all I got back was silence. “Wanna elaborate on that, or am I gonna have to drag all the answers out of you?”

  Sarah huffed out a laugh and gave me a half-smile. “I’m sorry. I should’ve planned this out a little better. Just... Candy was bragging in the dressing room about seeing you, and it wasn’t the best night. The last couple of weeks have been hard without you.” She scooted forward until my fingers brushed her shoulder. “I miss you.”

  I wanted to run my fingers through her hair and skim the pale, smooth skin along the curve of her jaw. But I kept my hand mostly to myself, because Sarah was talking, and I wanted to keep it that way. “That still doesn’t explain what the panic was about.”

  “That night I stayed at your place, all I could think about was how hard my internship was going to be combined with work. Finding time to see each other is already hard. I got scared.”

  “Scared of what?” I wasn’t following, and I didn’t think it was because she’d woken me up.

  “Of this thing between us.” She ran a soft finger across one of the lines of my tattoo, following the movement with her eyes instead of looking at me. “I figured you’d get frustrated eventually and... I guess I thought... I don’t know, that if I took a break from you, I could take a break from how I feel about you.”