Pretty In Ink (11 page)

STEVIE

Sundays were my favorite day of the week, because I got to spend the entire day with the man I loved, doing whatever it was we chose to do without the interruption of phone calls, scheduled appointments, or computers. The late summer days could be spent outside at home, a restaurant, or bar, and it allowed us not only to enjoy the weather, but each other in the process.

We picked a bar downtown which was close to the shop, and had planned on eating lunch and later going for a long drive in Wilson’s convertible BMW. The day was sunny, had almost no wind, and was warm, but by no means hot. In short, it was perfect. Convertible cars and motorcycles were all over the city on our ride to the bar, and provided further proof of the perfect weather. Sitting at the outside patio with the warm sun in my face, I studied the menu for the perfect lunch sandwich to compliment my perfect day.

“I want that big Philly cheese steak with the jalapenos, and I want the jalapenos cooked with the peppers on the grille,” I said.

“Alright, and you?” the waiter asked.

“Caesar salad, light on the dressing, and cottage cheese,” Wilson said.

The waiter nodded his head.

“He’s on a diet,” I said.

“He’ll live longer,” the waiter said with a nod.

I raised my bottle of beer and tilted it toward him. “But I’ll have more fun.”

“So, you said your mother is a drug addict, and your father is an alcoholic. It doesn’t bother you to drink though. How does that work?” he asked as he took a drink of his glass of water.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I have no idea, but I’ve never had a problem. If it ever becomes one, I’ll stop.”

“That’s good to know,” he said.

“And you never drink if you’re driving?” I asked.

“Not a drop,” he said.

“And that’s good to know,” I said as I took a drink of beer.

He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “So, you don’t mind sleeping at my house?” he asked.

Actually, I loved sleeping at his house. It really had nothing to do with the house, but everything to do with sleeping with him. Being in bed with the man I loved was comforting, relaxing, provided a more quality night’s sleep, and for whatever reason, made me feel much safer than sleeping at home with my gun. There was something about a man at my side that always made me feel safer than being alone.

“I love it,” I said.

“What do you think about just moving in? Permanently? And, if I’m out of line, just say so,” he said.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. I was shocked by his offer, and although I immediately felt I should scream “yes”, my eager attitude faded within a few seconds. I had never moved in with a man, and any time I lived with one, it was always the man who moved in with me. As controlling as most of my ex-boyfriends were, I always had the false sense of security that we were living in my house, and if something ever needed to change, I had a place to call home. I doubted I had anything to worry about with Wilson, but part of me was hesitant to immediately agree to it.

“I mean, I’m not sloppy or anything, but having me be there full time would mean, well, I’d be there
full time
,” I said.

“I realize that. It’s what I want,” he said as he uncrossed his arms and leaned into the edge of the table.

“Underwear, tampons, hair products, tweezers, birth control pills, makeup, and stinking fucking shoes; I have about a hundred pairs of stinky ass Chuck’s. Shit’s going to be everywhere,” I said.

He closed his eyes, clasped his hands together, and responded. “Sounds great.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked.

“Positive,” he said.

“Let me think about it for a bit,” I said.

“As long as you like,” he said as he leaned into the back of his chair.

The sound of motorcycles approaching reminded me of the warm weather, the ride we planned on taking later, and of my ex. I missed riding on motorcycles, but what I gained with Wilson was far greater than anything I would gain from all the motorcycle rides in the world. It was a small sacrifice to pay for a huge improvement in my life.

I took a drink of my beer and gazed blankly beyond Wilson and toward the entrance of the patio. As a man walked into the patio area, my eyes immediately went into focus and studied him thoroughly.

Fuck.

It was the shit head I had kicked out of my house at gunpoint for being a bad lay, and he was with another biker who was considerably smaller. Although I considered saying nothing and hoping for the best, I quickly decided it might be best to just leave. While trying to decide what to say to get out of the place without out-and-out lying or making a scene, it was apparent he recognized me.

“Hey you little bitch. Where’s my fucking boots?” he hollered.

Oh fucking fuck.

It dawned on me as he began to walk toward me that although Wichita was the largest city in Kansas and had 400,000 people living in it, it was completely different from San Diego. Running into the same guy again in San Diego would have been almost impossible. But, in Wichita, there were six bars downtown that were open on Sunday. The odds, at least in this city, were pretty damned good.

As he and his friend walked up behind Wilson, I bit my lower lip and tried to decide what I could do, if anything, to try and diffuse the situation. Now standing six feet to the side of Wilson’s chair with his arms folded in front of his chest, he glanced at Wilson, shifted his eyes toward me, and sighed.

I locked my eyes on Wilson’s who was still unaware of anything.

“Old friend,” I whispered as I tilted my head to the side.

“Where’s my boots?” the biker grunted.

“I did what I told you I was going to do, and left them at the door,” I said.

“Well, they weren’t there,” he growled.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Don’t know what to say.”

It was pretty apparent biker boy wasn’t planning on leaving. As much as I loved Wilson, I sat across the table wishing he was bigger, meaner, and tougher. For just a minute, I wished he was the same person inside, but a bad-ass biker who was willing – and able – to stand up, speak his mind, and if necessary, pound the dog shit out of the guy who was now standing at his side. I slumped into my seat realizing I couldn’t have my cake and eat it too. I loved Wilson, but he wasn’t a biker, he wasn’t a fighter, nor was he a tough guy. I just hoped whatever happened was over quickly, for both of our sakes. Fuck, if I needed to, I’d buy the asshole a pair of boots.

Oh, great idea.

“I’ll buy you a pair of boots,” I said.

“Those boots came from a shop in Laredo, made special for me, you little bitch,” he said.

Oh, fuck.

The entire time, my focus had been on the biker. As I shifted my eyes toward Wilson, I could see he had unbuttoned his sleeves and was methodically, and slowly, rolling them up his forearms. I had no idea what he really had planned, but if he thought for one minute he had a chance at fighting the two bikers, he was completely nuts. Although it was apparent they weren’t affiliated with any club, and weren’t wearing any colors, the big one from my house would no doubt crush Wilson in one punch.

Wilson pushed his chair away from the table, stepped completely to the other side, and untucked his shirt.

Oh shit.

I felt like covering my eyes, but I couldn’t. Wilson tilted his head left, and then right, popping his neck. The entire process went unnoticed by the big biker.

That’s not going to help. He’s going to kill you, Dear.

I stood from my seat, ready to fight the big asshole. It wouldn’t be the first time I was hit by a biker.

“Sit down, Stevie,” Wilson said in a demanding tone. 

His voice was different. Way different. I dropped back into my seat.

Wilson cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Gentlemen.”

You’re going to die.

“Your names?” Wilson asked as if taking a poll.

Oh fuck, really? Babe, they’re going to murder you.

The big one from my house laughed out loud and turned toward the guy standing beside him.

“I’m Snake, and this here’s Applejack. What’s you’re fucking name, princess?” the big biker responded.

“My name is irrelevant. I take exception to how you spoke to, and how you are continuing to speak to my girlfriend. I’m going to give you an opportunity to leave, and ask that you consider this matter with the boots a closed one. And, if you so choose to leave, I ask that it never be mentioned again,” Wilson said very matter-of-factly.

Dear God, they’re going to slaughter you.

Both bikers laughed out loud at the same time. After catching his breath, the big one pressed his hands into his thighs, chuckled again, and eventually stood straight up.

“And if we don’t?” he asked with a laugh.

“Is that your choice?” Wilson asked.

The big one nodded his head and grinned.

“Applejack,” Wilson said as he took a step in Snake’s direction. “I have no concerns with you, as long as you stay out of this.”

Wilson kicked his dress shoes to the side, bent his knees slightly, and tugged the thighs of his slacks upward with his thumb and forefinger while maintaining eye contact with Snake. He looked like a fucking cage fighter preparing for a match.

What the fuck?

As Snake slowly raised his clenched fists, Wilson jumped into the air and spun in a complete circle. His left foot slapped against the left side of the biker’s face, knocking him completely off balance. Before Snake had a chance to realize what happened, Wilson leaned forward and pummeled him with about fifteen or twenty punches to the face, throat, and abdomen. As Snake bent at the waist, and attempted to cover his face with his arms, Wilson hit him in the back of the neck with his elbow, driving him to the concrete patio.

Holy fuck!

“Applejack?” Wilson growled.

“Look, Dude. I don’t want any trouble. Fuck those boots. I need to get him an ambulance or something,” Applejack said as he reached down and attempted to lift the big biker to his feet.

I sat in complete shock and stared. And then I remembered the day we met, on my way home.

I’ve studied martial arts my entire life, and I’m quite dedicated. My parents insisted on it. A man should be able to protect himself and the ones he loves.

“Consider the woman off-limits,” Wilson said. “If you have anything further to say about this, I’ll gladly pick up where I left off.”

He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and tossed a fifty dollar bill on the table. After digging in his wallet for a few more seconds, he pulled out a business card and tossed it on the ground beside Applejack.

“Just in case he didn’t understand my request,” Wilson said with a nod.

He leaned over, picked up his shoes, and turned to face me. I stood from my seat and stared.

“Ready to go for that drive?” he asked.

I jumped to his side, wrapped my arm around his waist, and proudly walked with him toward the car.

“About that offer to move in…” I said as I watched him walk across the parking lot in his gold-toed black dress socks.

“Yes?” he said.

“Does it still stand?” I asked.

“Absolutely,” he responded.

“Good. Let’s do it,” I said. “I’m ready.”

He raised his right hand and stared at it as we walked across the parking lot toward the car.

“Kicking that biker’s ass the deciding factor?” he asked with a laugh.

“No,” I said. “But it damned sure helped.”

“I’ll never let anyone hurt you,” he said.

And after seeing him beat the absolute shit out of that massive biker in thirty seconds flat, I was sure he was right.

WILSON

Living with Stevie provided my life with exactly what it had been missing. Although I had no way of really knowing in advance, having her live with me gave not only the sense of security that came along with a long-term relationship, but added warmth to the house, causing a longing inside of me to return when I was away. Being physically separated from her was something I quickly learned to despise.

In the past, being in the house wasn’t something I ever looked forward to, and in fact, I typically avoided it. The house was always a reminder of my wealth, and the wealth a reminder of my parents. Thoughts of my parents caused me to feel alone, and the large empty house provided confirmation of my suspicions that I was destined to live a life of solitude until my death. It was a vicious circle, but the house seemed to be the fuel or driving force behind it. 

Now, sharing my life with Stevie, I felt accomplished, fortunate, and graced by the hand of God himself. The house I had always despised had become a home upon her arrival, and I now looked forward to each and every time I was able to return.

“Andrew, I have questions,” I bellowed as I stared out the window of my office.

The day was beautiful, sunny, and slightly cooler than the previous days. Seventy degrees was the anticipated high for the day and for Kansas even in the late summer would have qualified for unseasonably cool, but beautiful. Sitting in the office seemed like punishment, as I knew it was Monday and Stevie was off work.

“Sir?” Andrew said as he stuck his head in my office.

“Do you enjoy your work here, Andrew?” I asked.

“Immensely, Sir,” he responded.

“You know one day I plan on retiring from all of this,” I said as I turned around.

He stepped into my office and smiled. “And when that day comes, Sir, you’ll have earned it.”

“Have a seat,” I said as I motioned toward the chair in front of my desk.

He walked leisurely to the chair and sat, crossing his legs as he did so. I walked to my desk, pulled out my chair, and sat down.

“Have you ever given any thought to what you’ll do when I’m gone?” I asked.

“I haven’t spent tremendous time dwelling on the matter, no. I suspect when the day comes, I’d like to open my own business, something similar,” he said.

“I see,” I said with a nod. “Let me ask you a question.”

“Have you any interest in owning this one?” I asked.

“An established business like this one? No, Sir,” he responded.

“No, not one
like
this one,
this
one. Wilson Investments,” I said.

“Only in my dreams, Sir,” he responded.

“But interest nonetheless?” I said with a laugh.

Ne nodded his head and grinned. “Yes, Sir. Again, nothing more than a dream, but one day I hope to have such a firm. Have I thanked you for the car?”

“Many times, Andrew, yes, you have. As you know, Stevie and I are living together, and I am planning some changes in my life. Big changes. I don’t know when I intend on making them, but I suspect they’ll certainly come sooner than later. I’ll keep you apprised, but I’d like you to consider some things. I’d hate to sell this company to someone and have them ruin my good name; and as you know, I trust very few men…”

I paused and leaned forward, resting my forearms on the edge of the desk.

“I’m well aware, Sir,” he responded.

“So, considering all things, I’m left to wonder if you’d consider taking over the business,” I said.

He lifted his left leg from his right, planted his left foot on the floor, and crossed his right leg over his left.

“Alone?” he asked.

“Yes, alone,” I responded.

“I wouldn’t be able to afford to purchase the business alone, Sir,” he responded. “Not now, or ever, I’m afraid.”

“I didn’t offer to sell it to you,” I said. “I’m considering giving it to you.”

He uncrossed his legs and began rocking back and forth in the chair nervously. A young man rarely shaken and never one to show much emotion, his mouth quickly curled into a smile. As much as he fought the emotion he was expressing, he was incapable of hiding it.

“Sir…I’m flattered at the consideration, but…”

Seeing his reaction was confirmation enough that my thoughts were in the right place. Making him happy and providing a solid future was something that I was able to do, and in all reality, I could never spend the wealth I had made in ten lifetimes. Possibly premature, but in line with my thoughts and certainly in accordance with what my gut told me, I stood from my seat and spoke my mind.

“Consider it done. We’ll work out the details with the attorney over the next few weeks, and you’ll have to keep the name, but consider this yours,” I said as I extended my hand.

He stood from his seat and stared.

“I…”

“Save it for later, Andrew. I’ll be taking the rest of the day off. It’s customary to shake a man’s hand when he offers his to you, unless you take exception…”

He quickly reached for my hand and shook it firmly in his.

“Are you alright, Sir?” he asked.

“I’m in love, Andrew. It’s quite a wonderful thing. I’ll see you in the morning,” I said as I stepped around my edge of my desk.

Not being bound to my career would assure me that each and every moment of the day that Stevie was not working would be spent with her, and not at my office. The mornings and evenings I had spent at my office since she moved in had been torturous at best.

Now, with her work day starting at noon, mornings could be spent in bed or relaxing together, and not hustling around the house to get to the office.

I suspected most men would say I was insane for even considering the offer I had made to Andrew, but I would have to totally disagree. My wealth was such that Stevie and I, and our children should we choose to have any, would be financially secure for generations of lifetimes, and for me not to offer the opportunity to obtain that potential wealth to someone as close as Andrew, who was my only true friend, would be beyond selfish.

Although people could describe me as being many things, some of which were certainly true, being a selfish man was not one of them.

Nor would it ever be.

As I stepped into the hallway, I gazed back into my office. Andrew stood at the window looking out over the city. I gazed blankly into the office for some time before turning and walking to the elevator. During that time, I realized Stevie’s first mention of loving me was in the very office Andrew was now in, and giving it up would potentially be impossible for me to do.

Although I couldn’t go back on my word, I realized our contractual agreement would undoubtedly require some colorful language.

Because if my plan went as intended, I would need to use the office for a special occasion.

A very special occasion.