Knockout (15 page)

“Horny,” I grumbled.

Sam paused. “I don’t get it. Are you horny or is the city itself horny? Or are you horny because the city is horny and it’s made you horny by association?”

“Stop saying horny.”

“You brought it up. What’s the matter? You’re grouchy.”

I sat down inside the tub and let my head fall back on the wall. “I’m tired and I can’t sleep.”

“Shit, yeah, it’s what? Two in the morning? Why are you up?”

“Because Kellen was. I think he’s down for the count now, though.”

“Let me guess,” Sam said knowingly, “Laney KOed him?”

“For the better part of thirty minutes.”

Sam whistled in awe.

“Don’t be impressed. It was emotionally scarring. They should be ashamed of themselves.”

“Remember the trip to Mexico at the end of our Senior year? The one your parents made Laney and Kellen go with us on so we wouldn’t be kidnapped and sold into white slavery?”

I winced. “I remember.”

We had shared a room with them. Dad had booked us two but Laney sold off the second room in the fully booked hotel to some other seniors looking to upgrade from the roach motel they were in. She pocked the money and used it to fund a trip on a booze cruise for all of us. One afternoon Sam and I had gone out to go scuba diving but a storm rolled in and the trip was cancelled. We went back to the hotel early only to walk in on Laney and Kellen doing it. Sam liked to think back on it and remember Kellen’s naked body and I couldn’t say I blamed her. It was something worth remembering. But only if the sight of it hovering over your sister didn’t rip you in two inside.

It was an old wound, one I’d made a lot of progress in closing, but there was still a scar. I was pretty sure there always would be.

“Has Bryce burned down the store without me yet?”

Sam chuckled. “Still standing. He has tried to fire me twice though.”

“Well, you’re very lippy.”

“He likes it. What would he do with a mouse behind the register?”

I yawned. “Live peacefully.”

“Probably. But he’d miss me.”

I was pretty sure he would. After working at Bryce’s shop, Black Ink, my entire Senior year, I finally talked him into an apprenticeship. It was essentially the same thing I had been doing working for him only now I did it almost every day without getting paid. Sam took over the receptionist portion of my job and I became the shop bitch, running errands and doing everything undesirable. But I was in the shop, I was learning and the hours would help me in getting my license. I spent the summer there and started attending CalArts in Los Angeles the following fall. My mom wasn’t thrilled because she didn’t see where this was going. She also didn’t see the compass rose tattoo Bryce did for me on my eighteenth birthday. Or the small anchor I did myself on the inside of my left wrist. Or the sparrow on my right. It wasn’t until my second year of college, my third year hanging around the shop, when she saw the small smiling skull I put on Sam’s shoulder. That’s when she found out what I was doing.

And she flipped.

I explained to her for hours that I was doing it in a sterile shop and I was working my way through an apprenticeship. Sam had signed a release giving me full permission to ink her and Bryce had been right there beside me the entire time. Same thing with my wrist tattoos. I was under supervision because I was still learning, because I was working on becoming a professional. I told her I was still going to college. I still planned on graduating with a BFA before I went to work in a shop full time, but she wasn’t hearing any of it. We didn’t speak for three days after that. Luckily I was already back at school but it still kind of stung. We were better now. I was about to graduate, I was a licensed tattoo artist working in the shop and both dad and Laney had sort of forced her to come around. Things were still tense though. I felt like I was on eggshells a lot.

After I hung up with Sam, I didn’t fall asleep until 4am. I waited to go back out to the bed until I was sure they’d finished. This wasn’t my first rodeo. I’d been in bedrooms beside them on vacations before. Never any as acoustically impressive as this one, but I’d heard my sister’s incessant shouts of ecstasy and the occasional rumble of Kellen’s voice vibrating through the walls. What I’d learned from the previous shows I’d unwillingly attended was this – Kellen had a speedy recovery time. Boy could go three rounds before tapping out for the night. It was exhausting. I wanted a Gatorade and a PowerBar just thinking about it, though I desperately tried not to.

The next morning down in the hotel’s restaurant, I drowned my nightmares in French toast and scrambled eggs, intentionally getting downstairs before the happy couple had a chance to come knocking at my door wearing satisfied smiles. I felt hung-over from lack of sleep and I’d put on the bare minimum of makeup to cover the dark circles under my eyes.

“You look like hell,” Laney said, suddenly sitting down across from me.

I glanced up at her. She looked perfect and perky. Her golden hair expertly curled, swept and sprayed into place. Her makeup was CoverGirl flawless, not too much but just enough to look effortlessly perfect. Her outfit was a summer dress she’s picked up from Old Navy but she’d dressed it up with just the right jewelry and scarf to make it look designer. The girl had a gift.

“Thanks,” I told her dryly. “You do too.”

She grinned at me, knowing I was lying. “You’re going to get cleaned up before we go to the boutique, right?”

She glanced not very subtly at the streak of dark blue cutting through the black of my shoulder length, choppy haircut.

“I am cleaned up.”

“Your hands are filthy.”

I glanced down at my fingers. They were black from my charcoal pencil. I’d picked it up and started sketching last night after I hung up the phone. While I waited to make sure the bout was over.

“I’ll wash my hands,” I conceded.

“Seriously? That’s it? You have to at least wear something over your shoulders. You can’t go in a tank top. All of your tattoos are showing. Do you have a shawl or something?”

I chuckled. “A shawl? Who are you kidding?”

“I can lend you one.”

“I’ll put on another shirt before we go.”

“Something nice.”

She wasn’t asking.

I shook my head. “All of my clothes are nice.”

“No, all of your clothes are clean. That doesn’t make them nice.”

“You’re wearing Old Navy!” I exclaimed, pointing my fork at her.

“But I won’t be when we go over there. Mom gave me a Chanel. She would have lent you something if you’d let her.”

“You’re doing a wardrobe change before we go?” I asked incredulously. “Why didn’t you just put on the clothes you’re going to wear?”

“Because I didn’t want to spill anything on it,” she said calmly, laying a white linen napkin across her lap.

“Huh,” I grunted, turning back to my breakfast.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” I said, deciding it wasn’t worth the argument to find out why she was changing her clothes to go somewhere where she was going to be changing her clothes. Again. “What are you going to order?”

“I don’t know yet. How’s the breakfast here?”

I forked a large chunk of French toast and shoved it in my mouth.

“Delifus,” I slurred, speaking around the huge glob of food.

She chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re lucky mom isn’t here to see you do that.”

“You’re lucky mom isn’t here to hear you getting it on all night.”

Lacy looked up sharply in surprise. She pressed the open menu to her chest and leaned in closer, whispering, “You heard us?”

“Why can’t you be that quiet when you get down?”

“Don’t say it like that,” she laughed, kicking at me under the table. “He’s my fiancé. We’re going to be married. We were making love.”

“Awful lot of ‘fuck yeahs’ for lovemaking,” I sang lightly.

Laney glared at me.

“Morning, Jenna.”

I glanced up to see Kellen taking a seat beside Laney. He was wearing well-worn dark jeans, his favorites, I knew. His T-shirt was a heather gray and expensive looking. Probably something Laney had gotten for him. Unless it was a suit for work at my dad’s law firm, Kellen didn’t care any more about labels than I did. He wore it well, though. The fabric strained slightly over the curve of his chest and bulge of his biceps. Flashes of him in the ring hit me out of nowhere and when he looked at me with the full force of his dark eyes, I had to remind myself to breath evenly. Even after all these years, still he did this to me. Especially after That Night when I was seventeen.

Suddenly the sight of him and the memory of what I’d heard last night made me lose my appetite.

I nodded to him as I pushed my plate away. “Hey, Kel.”

“Not hungry?” he asked, eyeing my nearly full plate of food.

“It’s all yours,” I told him, lifting the plate to hand it to him.

“Put that down,” Laney snapped in a hushed tone. Her eyes roved over the restaurant, looking to see if we were being watched. “This is a nice place. You don’t pass around your table scraps like it’s
IHOP
.”

“We should have gone to a
Denny’s
,” I said, handing my plate over to Kellen despite her protests.

“Oh man,” he agreed blissfully. “The All-American Slam. Why didn’t we go there?”

“You don’t like the All-American Slam.”

He frowned at me, his fork full of egg halfway to his mouth. “Yeah, I do. I order it every time.”

“And every time you complain about it. You like Moon Over My Hammy.”

“No, that’s what you order.”

“Do you have amnesia?” I asked him in disbelief. “You steal half my Hammy every time.”

“Not every time.”

“Every single time,” Laney said, not looking up from her menu. “It drives mom crazy.”

“That’s not hard to do,” I mumbled.

Laney snorted delicately as Kellen cast me a rueful smile. He knew.

I sat with them while Kellen finished my breakfast and Laney labored over a small bowl of fruit and a smidgeon of yogurt. She was worried. We were in New York to choose her wedding dress and our appointment at a high end boutique was coming up in an hour. She wasn’t looking to show up bloated by bacon and pancakes. I didn’t blame her. Not for that. I did, however, blame her for making me come along with her.

Mom was busy with a charity function she was spearheading and wasn’t able to make it at the last minute. I, being the Maid of Honor, had dutifully come in her place. I had been coached extensively on what types of gowns they were looking for. Empire waist, white but nothing
too
white, absolutely NO lace. That was the criteria that it had taken them both two hours and ten magazines to explain to me. Then at the end of everything, they both agreed that if the perfect dress presented itself and it broke the rules, then that was okay. So basically we were looking for something really specific or anything at all. Fun.

Why Kellen was here was still a mystery to me. I think it was because Laney wasn’t good at being separated from him. Ever since they got engaged you couldn’t get her away from him. And it had been a long engagement, Kellen insisting they both finish school and be gainfully employed before they tied the knot. I didn’t know how Kellen could stand it. I loved my sister but even I needed a break from her now and then.

But no breaks were to be had because later that morning there we were in a swanky bridal boutique sitting in the most uncomfortable yet comfortable looking chairs in existence.

“Where’s the champagne chick?” I asked, looking around the blindingly bright, white store for the stick with the tray full of giggle juice that had been eye-banging Kellen all morning.

“I think I smelled her walk by a little bit ago,” Kellen said.

I grinned at him even though he couldn’t see it. Poor guy. Laney wanted him there but she didn’t want him to see any of the dresses so she’d blindfolded him. They had the blindfold at the store! Apparently it wasn’t a weird thing to want, though it was creeping me out something awful.

“What does she smell like?”

“Silicone.”

I laughed, quickly clamping my hand over my mouth.

“What are you guys doing out there?” Laney called from the dressing room nearby.

“Nothing,” I called back.

“I heard laughing.”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“Kellen, baby, will you take the champagne away from her? I don’t want her getting out of control.”

“Sure thing,” he called to her. He turned in his seat to face me, staring me down with his satin black blindfold. He looked like he’d wandered off the set of a BDSM porno. Halfheartedly he said, “Jenna, give me the champagne.”

“No.”

“Jenna,” he repeated, almost sounding stern.

“No.”

“Please?”

“Never.”

“Well, I tried.”

He collapsed back into his lie of a chair with a sigh.