Temporary indelibly mark.., p.8
Temporary (Indelibly Marked #2), page 8
“It’s raining.” He pointed to the window.
“Thank you, weatherman.” She peeled off her jacket.
“You drove in the rain?” Rather than crossing the room to inspect her like he wanted, he slumped down in the nearest chair. At least he could breathe again.
“Here, you go.” Kathleen handed him his plate. She included potato chips and chocolate chip cookies.
“Thank you.” He stared down at one of his favorite meals, wondering why the sandwich wasn’t as exciting as it should be.
“Yes, I drive in the rain, in the sun, in the gloomy mornings.” Emily wrinkled her nose. “What’s wrong with you?”
“We could have driven together and saved gas.”
“I didn’t know we were going green.” She made her way along the sofa kicking Carson in the ankle, kissing her dad, and hugging her mom. “Or that you were coming here.”
He shrugged and focused on his sandwich. The bread on the tuna seemed extra fluffy and Kathleen had chopped everything nice and small. She also cut the sandwich on the diagonal. Everyone with any sense knew that sandwiches cut on the diagonal tasted much better than sandwiches cut on the horizontal plane. At last he gave in and took a bite.
Creamy, crunchy, savory and sweet; the sandwich hit each one of his taste buds. With everyone accounted for, he gave in and enjoyed the treat.
She passed by him and went to Shane. “Get out of my spot.”
“Lindsay is my wife.” Shane wrapped his arm around her.
“I am practicing my makeup.” She kicked off her shoes and put her hands on her hips. “Don’t make me kill you. Now that you donated your sperm you are disposable. We have what we want.”
“Emily Ann Elliott!” Ronald shouted.
Shane relinquished his spot.
With her bag of makeup, she got in the bed and turned to her father. “Yes, Daddy?”
“Be careful around the baby.” Her father kissed his fingers and pretended to flick it in her direction.
“You better not know anything about any sperm anyways, especially that James’ sperm.” Carson chomped down on his cookie.
A wave of too much tuna crashed in Ivan’s stomach at the image of sperm around Emily. Well, anyone else’s sperm. Wait, they used condoms. Still, he put his head in his hand.
“Carson Anthony Elliott.” Kathleen clapped her hands twice as she walked by Carson, and took the seat next to Lindsay’s bed.
“Mother,” Carson said and pushed himself up off the sofa. “Don’t you Anthony me. You didn’t walk in to find Emily making out with some guy in a suit that costs more than most cars.”
Without speaking, Emily turned her attention to Lindsay and her makeup.
“Don’t you have something else to do?” Kathleen got up and shook her dishtowel at Carson. “I want to hear about the man in the suit.”
“Let’s go check out the garage.” Ronald stretched, and headed out.
Carson followed, as did Shane, who stopped in the doorway. “Come on.”
Though he also wanted to hear about the man in the suit, Ivan forced himself up and spying his window of opportunity without Lindsay and her brains around, he went after them.
“You cool?” Shane stopped him in the hallway.
He nodded but leaned back trying to hear anything said in the next room.
“Is the shop okay?” Shane waved his hand in front of his face. “Lindsay’s business?”
“It’s all copasetic.” Ivan whipped out the crumpled paper and a pen, attempting to not call attention to the action. “I just need you to sign this.”
Without looking, Shane put the paper on his knee and signed it.
Ivan reached for it. Maybe he would go with Emily on her date and present the paper in person.
“Wait. What am I signing?” Shane lifted the paper. “Am I giving you my shop? Maybe Lindsay should look.”
Rather than screaming “no” at the top of his lungs, he leaned against the wall. Too much defense would only rile up Shane’s offense. It was a lesson learned the hard way in junior year when he insisted he didn’t ask Greta Grady out, after Shane point blank asked if he had. He denied the truth, called Shane three times to remind him he didn’t do the deed, and even found a payphone to call Shane from the date he wasn’t supposed to be on. After all his fanfare, Shane showed up at the movie theatre to discover his lie and they didn’t speak for two weeks.
Instead, he inhaled slowly. “The autoclave guy won’t come out and check the thing unless you’re there or you sign the stupid paper. Something to do with those sanitary laws and the temperature gauges and the new pouches to fit with the new regulations.” He had no idea what vomit just spewed from his mouth, but his throat stung the same way it did when he called Shane from that payphone.
“That guy’s a sanitary jerk.” Shane gave the paper the evil eye and handed it over. “Tell him we are the cleanest shop in town. Never even an infection.”
Making sure not to make any sudden movements, Ivan took the paper and returned it to his pocket.
“Is there anything you’re not telling me?” Shane leaned in.
The question would have been easier to answer if Shane asked if there was anything they were telling him. “Go change your panties and stop acting like an insecure pussy.”
“Ass.” Shane shook his hand. “Let’s join the men. I have a garage now.”
“Dude, you have a living room and a dining room.” He winced.
“I have a nursery.” Shane shook his head.
“You didn’t need that; the kid will end up with you guys.”
“That’s what Linds said.”
They laughed.
“I put the crib in the master bedroom.” Shane hung his head down. “It seemed easier.”
“Yeah but you have a master bedroom.” He gave his best friend a friendly punch in the arm.
“It rocks, though. Rooms rock, wife rocks, baby rocks.”
“Yeah, it’s cool.” He wondered if that’s what everyone thought when they first got rooms, a wife, and a baby. Did anyone think about what happened if it all went away? Of course in Elliottville it lasted and expanded.
“Let’s go.” Shane tilted his head toward the exit letting his Mohawk point the way.
From the other room, the women giggled. Giggles denoted talking about guys. “I’ll be right there.” He pointed in the direction of the bathroom.
“You got it.” Shane glanced in the living room and left.
Alone at last, he did what any self-respecting quasi-stalker guy would do; backed up and peeked in through the slot between the wall and the door.
Emily and Lindsay remained in the bed while Emily creating her makeup magic.
“So there is more than one boy?” Kathleen slid her chair closer.
“Mom.” Emily rifled through her makeup bag and continued working on Lindsay’s eye.
“Is that why you’re not more excited about James?” Her mother leaned in. “You can tell us.”
Ivan pressed his eye into the crack.
Emily took Lindsay’s chin in her hand and tilted her head left and right. “What do you think?”
“I’ll never understand how you can do that.” Kathleen clapped. “She looks like she can walk down a runway.”
“Maybe I could roll down the runway.” Lindsay rubbed her stomach.
The women laughed and Emily absolutely beamed. “That’s the look I was going for.” She reached into her bag of tricks to retrieve a pad and pencil and wrote something down.
He never saw her take notes before and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
She finished by taking a picture.
“Let’s try another look.” Emily took out a box of cleansing wipes.
Lindsay held her hand up. “Not one more bit of paint will go on your canvas until you tell us.”
He shoved his hand into his pocket and waited.
“You know how there’s that one person you can’t get over?” Emily crossed her arms.
He straightened up at her words. No doubt he was the person.
“I married him,” Lindsay said with a nod.
“Me too.” Kathleen laughed and wrapped an arm around Lindsay.
“My brother never shied away from wanting to be with you.” Emily pointed at Lindsay and turned her mother. “Daddy wasn’t the guy you couldn’t get over. He was the guy you knew forever and wouldn’t give up. In fact, you said he annoyed you and you wanted the other guy!” She sighed and her voice broke.
Ivan rubbed his hand over his face and then stuck it back in the crack. Every Elliott and Harlow could recite from memory the story of Ronald and Kathleen’s love affair, which sounded somewhere between a bad 1980s teen flick, and an even more horrible romance novel. He did not need Emily’s head filled with fairy tales.
“Honey.” Kathleen joined them on the bed, taking her daughter into her arms. “What’s wrong?”
“My guy isn’t like Shane or Daddy, he…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to marry him; I just need to get over him.”
His chest constricted as if someone had socked him. They’d gone over and over their dilemma and they were the way they were, free and easy.
“Listen to me.” Kathleen took Emily’s chin. “You never settle for anything less than a man who will fight for you. The man who gives you that feeling from your scalp to your toes. The one who will always be by your side and it may be the new man or an old man, but it doesn’t matter.” She ended her speech by kissing Emily on the nose.
He pressed his forehead against the door hinge welcoming the pain. If anyone needed help, it was him.
“You made everyone else tuna.” Emily did the perfect imitation of a whiney teenager.
“Come on, I brought the bologna and cheese too.” Kathleen rose and yanked Emily up. “Let Lindsay get the makeup off, and we’ll make your lunch together.”
“Do you mind?” Emily gave the wipes to her sister-in-law.
“Not one bit.” Lindsay pulled a wipe out of the container and the other women left for the kitchen.
As if he were Shane Elliott, an opportunity landed right in front of him in the form of Shane’s wife, or as he liked to refer to Mrs. Elliot – the sane one.
He curled around the door. “Hello.”
“I am seeing visitors, you may enter.” Lindsay motioned him forward and continued to wipe the makeup off her face.
Unsure what to say, he sat in the chair and started with the obvious. “How’s the baby making?”
“How’s Emily?” She swiped one eye then the other.
He swallowed and cleared his throat. “You were just talking to her.”
“Yes, and you are the guy she can’t get over.”
His mouth opened but no words exited.
“Don’t worry, Shane has no idea.” She laughed. “No one does.”
“Can you blame me?” He waited for her to spew her own brand of wisdom.
She put the wipes down. “What are you afraid of?”
“You’re not supposed to ask a question.” Did she forget how their interplay worked?
“What am I supposed to do?”
“You are supposed to tell me what to do and fix it like when you do my taxes.” There were definite rules to the protocol. Maybe they needed to write them down or something.
“Tell me what you’re afraid of and I’ll give you some advice.” She tilted her head.
Deep in thought, he pulled his lip and glanced around the room, at the matching furniture, the art on the wall, all the trappings of a living room. “What if we broke up? She’s a little young.” He took a breath and primed himself for the fix.
Instead, she took his hand and pressed it to her stomach.
A little pop met his fingers. “What the hell?”
“That’s the baby.” She slid his hand over a few inches.
It happened again and he couldn’t help but smile. “That’s creepy cool.” He looked at her and back down to her stomach. “Do it again.”
“Let me try.”
They both sat silent for a moment and at last the baby kicked once more. “That is awesome.”
“Ivan.” She put her hand over his and used the tone that told him the guidance was heading toward him, full steam ahead.
He lifted his eyebrows waiting for the revelation.
“The older you get, the less it matters.” The baby kicked as if to punctuate her statement.
Ivan gave her stomach a thumbs up.
“I don’t think you’re afraid of breaking up with her. I think you’re afraid of what happens if you don’t.”
His heart seized and he shot up. “I think I should go see what the guys are doing in the garage.” He gave her belly a gentle pat and made a break for the door.
~~*~~
“Are you having a good time Miss Elliott?” From across the small table, James nodded, his slicked back neat hair, a far cry from Ivan’s long locks.
Under the table, Emily squeezed her hand into a fist. She should have gone out with Ivan, or been alone. Every thought was focused on the man who never took her on a real date, but owned a piece of her she wanted back. “I am.” She would have to be insane not to have a good time. Yet, her mind wandered at every turn.
James had done everything humanly and superhumanly possibly to ensure their time together would forever go down in the dating hall of fame. Everything, from arriving three minutes early, to giving her a bouquet of daisies in a cut crystal vase, to manners that rivaled any old-English gentleman, would get most women to swoon and call for smelling salts.
Damn, she wanted to feel faint.
She glanced around the posh West Hollywood restaurant, the kind paparazzi hung out in front of, praying to spot a celebrity. The restaurant was built to highlight the beauty and hide the flaws with its black and white ultra-modern décor and multi-colored lights. One could get lost or stand out, and it all depended on your clout and companions. In truth, he chose the venue perfectly, one of the few places where those in suits and those with an edge converged.
“Excellent, I wouldn’t want to think my charms only went as far as my amazing stationery.” He flashed her a smile fit to make any mother’s heart melt.
“You have other attributes.” She let out a laugh, not meaning her words to come out as flirty as they sounded. Maybe it was a sign of hope. Once she stopped thinking about Ivan she could let someone else in. Of course, acknowledging she wasn’t thinking about Ivan only meant she thought about Ivan.
“As do you, besides your obvious artistic abilities, your kiss earlier was quite incredible.” Without touching his elbows to the table, he leaned forward and his gaze traveled over her.
For the first time since the date started, a bit of welcomed warmth crept into her cheeks. “I’m sorry if I shocked you.”
“Some shocks are better than others.” James winked. “I think I neglected to tell you how beautiful you look tonight.”
Up until that moment, the twinge had been lacking. They’d filled the evening with a lot of the chitchat that occupied a first date. Talk about his law firm and the tattoo shop, and what she did on her off hours took center stage. Maybe she forgot about some of the parts of dating, because she honestly couldn’t remember the last date she went on with someone she didn’t know, and she had never truly dated Ivan. At last she admitted the truth and hit her in the center of her chest. He was right; they couldn’t break up because they weren’t together.
Once more she forced herself to focus on James. “So do you.” Dressed in a dark grey double breasted suit, white shirt and royal blue tie, he looked like…well, an attorney, a professional, a man who took things seriously. James personified a good, well-bred man, a man who could stand in front of a judge and then go for an afternoon tea, or golfing, or own the golf course.
“You’re going to make me blush.” He tilted his head. “Would like anything else? An after dinner drink?”
At least three people from the wait staff stepped forward as if expecting a command. All night she watched James use an elusive sign language. From the Chef’s special tasting menu of dishes she never even knew existed, to his family’s special wine reserve, delicacies and accompanying garnishes she didn’t recognize and didn’t want to recognize, appeared on the table without James ever uttering a word. The entire date, she struggled to keep up. Emily almost wanted to ask for the kiddie menu. “I couldn’t, but thank you.” She sat up straighter, feeling as if she were on display.
“Very well.” He raised one finger. Like magic a check appeared and without looking at the bill, he slipped the waiter a credit card. Lindsay would never approve.
“You said you had a deposition in the morning.” The sooner they got out of here, the sooner she could relax into a comfortable slouch. If Ivan were there, he would be leaning back in the booth with a beer. They would have laughed at all the different people and picked through the menu only to both choose a steak with no sauce. Then later they would go back to her place or his. He always preferred his place. In fact, she still had some clothes and her extra toothbrush over there. Maybe later she should go over there and get her favorite pink t-shirt.
“I do have a deposition, and you have to do some practicing with your makeup.” He raised his eyebrows.
She swallowed down the lump in her throat at James performing Ivan’s signature move.
The silent waiter snuck the check back in front of James. “One day I would love to see what you do. Actually, I would love to watch a tattoo as well.” He signed the check.
“Maybe with the case and all, it would be good idea to see one.” Did she turn her date into a business meeting?
“Then let’s set that up.” He stood and offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
James’ large, shining, silver German sedan stood waiting and ready at the entrance for them. No need to wait in the light sprinkles for the valet.
He opened the door for her and she slipped on to the plush leather. Her dad, Carson, and Shane all drove vintage cars—cars with style but few features. Ivan rode a motorcycle, only taking his late model SUV if he was in dire need of something enclosed. The last time she and Ivan got stuck in the rain on his bike, they went directly back to his place where he insisted they warm up with a shower.
