Daddy Ink Page 2

  The final light in my neighbor’s home turned off. Funny enough, my libido shut off with it. Dane’s friend was cute and flirty, but for once I just wasn’t feeling it.

  “Peeping on the neighbors?” he asked in my ear. I knew he wanted to send shivers down my spine, but it made me tense up instead.

  I wanted to push him away. I needed to kick everyone out. My eyes wouldn’t stop drifting over to the house next door, and I felt deflated, nearly as exhausted now as my neighbor had looked.

  Taking a step back, I shook Ash off and went to find Trinity. She was a fantastic artist and the one who’d gotten my attention after she shut the door on the poor guy’s face the first time. A frown tugged at my lips as I realized I had done the same thing. My fucking stutter making everything hard again. Always, really.

  Luckily, Trinity had a sixth sense for when my moods were like this, and she popped up in front of me like a cork from champagne. “Problems with the neighbor?”

  The line of my lips pulled tighter. Her brows pressed together.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, stepping closer. I shook my head, just a bit, enough to let her know that I was feeling too overwhelmed to speak clearly.

  “We have work tomorrow. Time to call it a night,” I signed, hands and fingers moving slowly.

  Trinity and my boss, Reagan, started learning to sign years ago, shortly after I’d started working at the shop, when they saw how much it helped me out. Dane, good man, had learned as soon as I made it clear that sometimes I needed to be able to communicate without the shame of my stutter.

  “Got it,” she said. No questions asked. Thank god for small mercies and generous hearts. Trinity swooped through the house, shutting the party down with polite efficiency. I didn’t pay attention to what she told everyone, but Dane clapped me on the shoulder on his way out the door.

  “We’re talking tomorrow, dude,” he warned as he left. His warning came with a wicked smile, so I knew I wasn’t in for a lecture—or at least not one borne of concern. He wasn’t that kind of best friend. Instead, he provided levity to balance my tendency to brood.

  We’d met at a club just after I’d turned eighteen. He’d challenged me to a break dance dance-off, working the whole crowd into a frenzy while I’d stuttered and stammered as I tried to tell him I couldn’t break dance. The crowd had parted, making way, and Dane made his way into the center with the confidence of a seasoned B-Boy.

  And proceeded to do the running man and the Carlton from Fresh Prince of Bel Air until everyone had left, disappointed. Except for me, who hadn’t been able to catch my breath because I was laughing so hard. His humor was able to turn around most situations, and he did know how to have a good time. Which often included us helping the other hook up with a new person.

  The man he’d brought for me, Ash, leaned in the door. Blond hair flopped in his face and he smiled, a lazy grin that promised a good time if I only said stay.

  “It was nice to meet you,” he said as he hovered.

  It would be easy to say yes. I could get the nervous energy that had built up in me after meeting the neighbor out in a tangle of sweaty limbs and rough sex. But I didn’t want to, and I always wanted to, and that thought disturbed me to no end.

  I shook my head, and he shrugged before heading out.

  Trinity was the last to leave. “Is this about your neighbor?”

  I nodded. “He had a baby,” I signed, hoping it would put an end to her questions.

  “I barely noticed the baby, Javi. I was too busy taking in that fine-ass face,” she replied out loud. “Your neighbor is capital-H Hot.”

  The pinpricks of a blush bloomed on my cheeks, and I tried to look nonchalant. Based on Trinity’s wry smile, I failed miserably.

  So I signed, “It just shook me up. I didn’t expect to make enemies with a neighbor so quickly.”

  “You turned down the music, you kicked everyone out, and you skipped over a willing hookup. You’re more than shook, Javi. I think you have a crush.”

  Her laugh was like coins falling, quick and light as she teased. I couldn’t help it—I grinned.

  “I’m being stupid,” I signed, still unwilling to try to speak. “He’s out of my league, and he thinks I’m a total ass.”

  Her grin fell as her eyes softened. “One day, Javi, you’ll realize how amazing you are. That you deserve good things because you’re a good person.”

  My hands clenched, a reflex against the compliments. I knew Trinity meant well, but some lies hurt too much, even if they came from a place of kindness.

  We said our goodbyes, and I was left standing in the sudden silence. Because I’d ushered everyone out so quickly, my house was a train wreck, but the mess gave me something to focus on while my mind replayed the events of the night.

  It kept coming around to Trinity calling me out on my attraction. Because she was right. I admitted to myself, in the stillness of the house, that I had a thing for the single dad, however stupid I was for indulging it. Maybe it was his protective anger, or the way his eyes had dragged over my tattoos—admiring, I thought, not judging.

  He was so radically different from the other men I fell into bed with. Not just in looks (because really, the mussed hair and pajamas were a first), but in his fierce and unflinching protection of his little girl. That lion quality, complete with his unkempt mane, had made my heart throb more than my dick.

  But he was a dad. A great-looking man who was willing to do what he needed to for his family. Which meant I was right, and he would never be interested in someone like me, even if we’d met under better circumstances. Hell, my own parents hadn’t wanted me, leaving me behind when I was still a child. What could I possibly have to offer someone as good as my neighbor clearly was?

  As I wiped off the last counter, my heart gave a final whomp. A lifetime of letdowns and lies and false hope had helped toughen my skin. It was armor, easy to put on. Too much in my life had taught me where hope led, and it was nowhere good. I wasn’t going to let hot dad get under my skin—I couldn’t do that to myself. But what I could do was be a good neighbor.

  I could offer that much.

  Reagan liked us to open Get Ink’d early, but it wasn’t to tattoo. It was because he ran his business like a family and insisted we eat together at least once a day when we were working. Since tattoo artists work afternoons and nights, our family mealtime was breakfast. By the time I’d arrived the morning after the party, there was already coffee for everyone, seats set in a circle, and the Boss Man waiting with his notebook.

  It had taken me time to adjust to Reagan’s notebook when I first started apprenticing at Get Ink’d. He always carried it with him, and he wrote comments about designs we drew, customers we’d inked, and reviews we were getting online. He also checked in with us every few months, asking us those stupid questions like “where do you see yourself in a year?” and “what do you hope to get from this job?”

  I’d hated it until I loved it. Having a boss who cared about me as a person and not just a source of income was new. Having someone who pushed me, every day, to be better than I was the day before?

  Reagan had me for life. Between work and volunteering some days at the local youth center, I’d managed to create a hodge-podge family of my own. Or at least enough support to keep my darker demons at bay.

  Dane walked in after I did, carrying a giant box of donuts. Reagan, Trinity, Mateo, and Dane descended on said box like they hadn’t eaten in weeks. By the time I got there, the only ones left were the glazed donuts. Suited me just fine.

  We sat down, munching and waiting for the meeting to start. The coffee was hot in my hand, warming my fingers. It would help keep them loose and ready to draw up some ideas for the client I had coming in later.

  “First order of business,” Dane said as he dropped into his chair. Reagan shot him a look that Dane purposefully ignored. “We need to discuss a very important topic.”

  “What are you going on about, D?” Reagan’s tone let everyone kn
ow he wasn’t amused.

  Dane managed to never take anything seriously, not even Reagan. It was part of his charm and one of his biggest flaws. But I loved watching them interact—the big, burly bear of a boss versus the snide and sarcastic employee, knowing that at the end of the day, the two still loved each other like family.

  “I’m going on about my good friend, Javi, and the mystery man that struck him speechless last night.”

  At that, Trinity let out a cackle and Dane shot me a wink. Reagan frowned, and I felt myself burning. Had it been obvious to all of them?

  “Now, I didn’t see him,” Dane continued, “but Trinity assures me that the man next door is a looker. So we need a plan to get them together.”

  Before I could protest, Reagan stepped in. “Boss rejects this order of business. Leave Javi alone.”

  Dane just chuckled and pushed harder. “You want to see Javi happy just as much as I do, Reagan.”

  “Happiness doesn’t come from shitheads like you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” Reagan replied.

  I felt like I was outside of a window looking in on a conversation all about me. I was flushed because I didn’t like being the center of attention. Reagan, Trinity, Mateo, and Dane could normally tease me all they wanted. They were my crew, my ride or dies, and I knew that they truly did want the best for me. I just wished they didn’t assume a man was what I needed.

  Beyond that, something about interacting with my neighbor had been different. Radically different, really, because I was still wound up about it, rather than the out of sight, out of mind attitude I usually had with guys. I’d spent the night replaying the interaction in my mind a thousand times.

  So while I could normally endure the teasing with a good-natured smile, today I wished they’d drop it.

  They did move on, largely due to Reagan’s bullheaded insistence. Thank Christ for that. The man was a lifesaver in more ways than one. He was older, grizzled but not ancient, with the kind of ginger hair and pale skin that made a person memorable. It helped, too, that he was built like a fucking tank and covered in tattoos. He often stood in as a father figure for me and the others, but his appearance was far from fatherly.

  I watched in relief as he ribbed Dane, who was forever joking. I loved the guy, but Dane sometimes missed the cues that shit was getting serious. Today, though, it was the usual banter, the barbed back and forths that left all of us—even Reagan—holding our ribs.

  Trinity was the one who grounded us all at the end of the meeting. “Reagan’s stepping back from taking walk-ins now because he’s the boss man and can do what he likes,” she said. “Javi is going to take on some larger pieces because he’s a fucking tattoo magician, and Mateo is going to be holding a guest spot at that Brooklyn tattoo shop for a couple months, so he’s out. Dane is going to handle most of the walk-ins, because he can charm the pants off anyone. But please, Dane, let’s try and not fuck every customer who walks through the door today.”

  “I promise to leave the women alone,” he replied, a boyish grin huge on his face. He held up his two fingers in a pledge. “Boy Scouts' honor.”

  “Uh huh,” Trinity muttered with a roll of her eyes.

  “What will you be doing?” Dane asked. “Making sandwiches for us hungry, working men?”

  “I’ve kicked your ass before, Dane, and I’ll do it again,” Trinity growled. At this point, tears of mirth were streaming down Reagan’s cheeks while I was hiding my smile by sipping my coffee. “I will be tattooing all the poor, misguided women who come in here and think they are at risk of losing their virtue to you assholes. And the dudes who are dumb enough to worry that they can catch gay.”

  Reagan stiffened. “I won’t tolerate homophobes. If any of you catch wind of that shit, come get me. I’ll make sure they understand the type of business I run.”

  The meeting moved on and we relaxed into the day. After breakfast, we cleaned up (no shop of Reagan’s would have crumbs where a customer might see them) and got to work. I needed it. Too much of my mind had been devoted to my neighbor. It was an ugly spiral, one I’d done a good job of avoiding for years.

  It went like this: I became attracted to a guy, or an idea of a guy, and all that he represented. Things like stability and trust. Then my brain reminded me of how well all my relationships in the past had gone. How foster parents and quick turnover boyfriends had proven to me that I wasn’t someone who could earn long-term relationships. Hell, my own father had OD’d rather than be a father to me. And my mother had run shortly after, unable to stomach raising me on her own.

  Lessons like that are like scars. They’re carved into the flesh of the soul, a reminder of my worthiness. Or lack thereof. Former flings had often cited that I was too closed off, despite the inner fever of my wanting for them. In the case of someone like Gordo, my crush would only deepen if I let it, my desperation for belonging and family would increase, and then the inevitable heartbreak of rejection would crush me. It was a tired cycle and one that had made me wary of any attraction that felt… more. A quick fuck now and then, sometimes even a fun weekend fling, would have to be enough. It was all that I was going to get.

  As I sat at my bench, pen in hand and a client’s request printed out, Reagan dropped by.

  “They’re just poking fun at you,” he said softly. Engrossed in my work, I nodded, but he must have taken my silence as stress. “If you’re not okay—”

  But he didn’t get it. I’d already worked out the plan with the neighbor. He’d just be a hot neighbor, end of story. I didn’t get that happy ending, so I wasn’t going to worry about it.

  Putting my pen down, I swiveled my chair to face Reagan and signed, “I don’t mind the teasing. They can poke fun at me.”

  He thought their teasing was punishment, but Reagan had never understood that I already do a thorough job of punishing myself. Take, for example, how I spent the night agonizing over how I failed to be a good neighbor, how I’d been punishing a baby with my selfishness, and how I’d completely fucked up any chance at being, well, anything to my too-sexy neighbor.

  So I could let them tease me. It didn’t hurt me any more than I’d already hurt myself.

  Reagan needed me to be okay, and I needed to remember not to piss in my cereal before eating. Which was a gross way of reminding myself to try to stay positive. Make lemonade from lemons and all that shit. I’d screwed up things with the neighbor, but that would spare me the letdown of hoping I could ever have a chance with him.

  “I just want you to know I have your back, kid,” Reagan said, his forehead still creased with concern.

  “It’s okay, b...b...b-boss,” I say out loud, trying to ignore how awkward the stutter made me feel. “Today’s a good day.”

  3

  Gordo

  Giuliana had been crying for the entire drive home from her one-month appointment, and I wasn’t far behind her. She’d not been a fan of the shots, and after seeing her red-faced screams of pain, I wasn’t a fan of them, either. By the time I’d pulled into the driveway, my nerves felt as if they’d been run over with a cheese grater. She needed a nap, and I needed a break in a bad way.

  When I turned off the car, though, a movement on my porch caught my attention. My neighbor from last night, the one who’d slammed the door in my face but also turned off the music, was sitting on the front steps. The sunlight caught in his black curls and shone a spotlight on his intricate tattoos.

  …Was he waiting for me?

  It was next to impossible to ignore my beating heart, since it seemed to threaten to burst from my chest and run down the street, but I managed. I slipped from my car, making sure to avoid looking at the man waiting for me. If he was going to confront me, I wanted to be prepared.

  Giuliana’s cries softened after I lifted her from her car seat. I’d been strapping her in and out of it for three weeks, but I still worried each time that I would do something wrong. Her body was so tiny, so fragile, and it seemed like one wrong move could end in disa
ster. But everything went fine this time, just like it had every time before, and I tucked her to my chest, loving the way she fit so perfectly in my arms. Her whimpering settled, and I knew it would be naptime soon.

  Steeling myself, I turned to my neighbor, unsure of what to prepare for. Why was he here? What could we possibly talk about? And fuck, why did he have to be so damn attractive? My stomach hadn’t been full of butterflies like this for years. I made for the front steps but stopped at the bottom, waiting.

  To my surprise, the man seemed nervous. His foot was tapping, and he had his hands shoved in the front pockets of his very tight jeans. A t-shirt featuring tattoo-like flash art and the name “Get Ink’d” clung to a slim body that rippled with muscular potential. He was built like a flyweight boxer, lean and cut. Next to him, there was a small potted plant on the stoop that hadn’t been there when I left.

  I forced myself to meet the eyes that had been, admittedly, haunting me since the night before. They were as gorgeous as I remembered. Better, even, in the full light of day. Hazel that leaned green and gold, sparkling and wary at the same time. A contradiction caught in irises, and I couldn’t look away.

  As if ruffled by my staring, my neighbor took some deep breaths—multiple, his eyes shutting occasionally as if he were preparing a speech for the foreign press instead of addressing his neighbor. Finally, he said, “I’m Javi.”

  His voice was deeper than I expected, and it hit me like a fist, causing my stomach to knot up and my chest to squeeze. It was a rumble of a voice, like water over gravel, and my body wanted nothing more than to sway toward it. It was only due to years of keeping my emotions in check around Kyle, with all of his volatile and passionate ways, that I managed to keep a straight face.

  “I’m Gordon, but no one calls me that. I go by Gordo.”

  Javi gave me a half smile, and it was enough to make my cock twitch, interested in a way it hasn’t been in… too long. Or not long enough. Be careful, I thought to myself.