Chapter 2
Adam woke up sweating, biting back a scream.
He lay in bed, pulling himself up from the dredges of that familiar nightmare, as he waited for his heart to stop beating as if it wanted to pump right out of his chest.
It should be routine now, thought Adam, as his heart finally leveled out a bit. It should be, but it felt as if it would never be anything as mundane as routine.
Every night, he was back in that nightmare that couldn’t just be pushed aside as a dream. Because he had lived through it, and he couldn’t seem to leave it behind.
Even with the best of medical treatment, he knew his body would remind him of that evening for the rest of his life. Even with all the money in the world, you can’t buy peace of mind or a completely sound body once it had been broken.
He waited for the pain to die. It always did. He no longer knew which part of it was real and which was from memory.
No, that was wrong – it was all real, anyway. His memory of that night was all too clear to even consider dismissing it as just a nightmare. Even the phantoms from that night that persisted with him were real.
He knew that he wouldn’t get any sleep now. It was only about five in the morning, and he knew that there was absolutely no use trying to grab another couple of hours of sleep, no matter how much he felt like he needed it.
Might as well get some work done, decided Adam, as he often did. At least, since the accident, he’d been getting an incredible amount of work done.
As he pulled the tablet to him, he saw that it had been a year. It had been exactly a year.
He paused. Should he give himself time to process and deal with that? Maybe he should, but after that nightmare, he didn’t feel like indulging himself.
Instead, he checked his email – the one he had created on impulse to send a mysterious email to the undoubtedly talented Birdie Campbell.
He knew of Birdie from Celeste. He knew Celeste because he had hired the woman, who was a brilliant coder. But she would never have been able to realize that potential if it hadn’t been for Birdie Campbell.
He had been mulling over the idea of getting in touch with her for a few weeks, but despite the glowing accounts he had heard from Celeste, he had found himself unwilling to trust a stranger.
So, he had done what he would’ve recommended to anybody. He had created an email account, routed it through multiple proxies and servers, and sent it to Birdie Campbell. After all, there was no way he could be identified. He was just putting an enquiry across, that was all.
Deciding to go through with it would be another matter entirely. To go through with it, he would need to trust this woman with more than he had shared with anybody else.
He knew she was skilled, of course. Celeste had shown off her tattoo, and the scar. It wasn’t just the work, though he had noticed that it was technically perfect. Birdie was obviously gifted.
It was that the tattoo had done its job, and from everything Celeste said, it had as much to do with the tattoo artist as the tattoo itself. It had healed Celeste in ways that nothing else could have. She had stopped being a victim and became a survivor, and with that, she had found strength that she hadn’t known she had.
That was a lot for a tattoo artist to achieve. That was a lot to expect from a tattoo artist, too.
Of course, Celeste wasn’t the only person who had told him about Birdie Campbell. Having a Birdie was like buying a piece of art, but the art was on you. A lot of the people in the rarefied social circles he was now a part of had Birdies.
A couple of them were even people he truly respected. But he hadn’t asked them about the experience, or anything to do with it. Everybody knew what Birdie Campbell’s specialty was. Everybody knew what scars he bore.
He didn’t want everybody to know that he needed what had become a new way to cope. That would be the same as admitting that he hadn’t recovered completely, and that was something Adam refused to admit.
Maybe he had trouble admitting weakness. But he was done feeling weak. Months of physical therapy, weeks of bed rest, multiple surgeries – no, he was done with feeling weak, he was done with feeling helpless. Now, he was in control. He intended to stay in control for the rest of his life, no matter what it took.
Birdie Campbell might be a genius and an artist beyond compare on the unusual canvas that was the human skin, but she wasn’t very good at replying to emails, noticed Adam with some irritation. He wasn’t used to waiting for replies.
Adam caught himself in time before he fired off a sharp demand for a reply. He was far too used to being the boss and having everybody hop every time he told them to, he realized with a rueful grin. His mother would’ve clipped his ears.
He had only sent the email at nine the night before. Maybe she didn’t check her mail obsessively like almost everybody he knew.
He hadn’t told anybody that he was considering getting a tattoo. Not to cover his scar, but to make it… something else. He just wanted it to stop being a reminder of his mortality. After all, he had survived. He had survived when doctors had feared he might not make it through the night. He had walked again when his mother had wept, telling him that all she wanted was for him to live. His father’s face had been a harsh mask of grief. He would never forget it.
But Adam had wanted to do more than just live. He had wanted to thrive.
He had proven everybody wrong.
Well, that wasn’t quite true. He had proven everybody except his brother, Richard, wrong. Richard had never doubted that he’d make it.
“You stubborn bastard, I’ll kill you if you stop fighting. I’ll kill you. Fight, you fucking asshole.”
Adam had heard the words, said in a fierce low tone that brooked no argument or disagreement. It had been an order.
Adam had fought, and by all accounts, he had won.
But he didn’t feel as if he had won. Every night, plagued by nightmares, he felt as if he was sliding down a slippery slope, and nothing could stop that slide.
Adam had found himself seeking oblivion in whiskey, and had known that he might be in trouble.
He knew he could turn to Richard for any help he needed. He knew it.
But, well, he was a stubborn bastard who insisted on finding his own way.
Richard would understand. He would be supportive. He might even get a tattoo in solidarity. It would be just like Richard.
But Adam needed to do this alone.
Well, not quite alone, he corrected himself. He needed to do this with Birdie Campbell.
And that brought him right back to square one. How was he supposed to know whether he could trust Birdie Campbell with this? Unlike coding mistakes, this couldn’t be fixed. If she screwed this up, he would have yet another reminder of how fucked up everything had gotten.
Two years ago, he had been flying high and living it up. Why not? At twenty-nine, he had been one of the youngest billionaires in Silicon Valley, having turned his aptitude for making niche apps into a lucrative business that hired hundreds of people.
A year ago, he had owned property, invested in everything he felt like investing in, was an angel to many start-ups, and his business was thriving.
Everything had come to a crashing halt, quite literally, when his passion for motorbikes had gone horribly wrong.
He had loved sports bikes and dirt bikes from the time he was fifteen. He had learned how to do stunts in his teens. When he wanted to blow off steam, he’d hit the dirt track and do so in a cloud of dust.
The adrenaline rush… Even now, when it had been a year since he’d gotten on a bike, he could feel it. He could even miss it.
But it had all come tumbling down. He had known the moment it had started to go wrong. He had felt the control slipping out of his hand for that split second, but that split second was all it had taken. He had crashed.
He could still feel the pain – the blinding pain that had made him scream for oblivion. The searing heat of it all that had made him feel as if he was boiling from the inside. The sickening crack as his leg had broken in a compound fracture that had needed multiple surgeries. He had felt the bike crushing him, pressing down on him as if it had turned into a monster intent on killing him.
Then, mercifully, he had blacked out. From then on, everything had been a blur of pain and pain meds.
He remembered more from those days than most people knew. If they knew he remembered, they would worry. He had a lot of people in his life who seemed to make worrying about him a full-time job.
He was being ungrateful. He was very lucky, he knew that. But then, ever since the accident, his family had started dropping pointed hints about mortality and settling down.
Adam knew that it all came from a good place. They cared about him. His father believed that he must carry on the family name, though Richard could do it just as well. They thought that at thirty-one, he needed the stability of a family to get past the accident. They worried that he was burying himself in work, which could be as destructive as his former hobby. It was understandable, since he had sought solace in work when everything else seemed to fail.
It had worked, hadn’t it? He had managed to pull himself out of everything because he had had work. People might not see the creativity in technology, but he was known for innovative apps now. He had made a whole new fortune as one was being spent trying to make him whole again.
He had poured everything he was into work, and his mother, of course, worried. She had put him through hell.
Apparently, what he needed was to settle down with a good woman. The thought made him chuckle.
Why did mothers and grandmothers think that a good woman could sort everything out for their sons? Was that what they did with their sons’ fathers? Well, women had changed since then. If he brought one of the women he dated home to his mother, she would pretty quickly change her mind.
Adam had no disdain for the women he dated. He liked women. They were soft and sweet and sexy. But he did know that his mother would not like any of the trust fund babies he found himself with, all the time.
Though perhaps his mom would prefer it if he dated even a trust fund baby, since he hadn’t dated since the accident. She was worried, as she told him, every chance she got.
But Adam had never really considered a real commitment. Most women he dated had understood that, too. They didn’t understand that he had made his fortune in his early twenties, so his attitude to wealth was quite different from theirs. He knew what it was like to not take everything for granted. He knew how difficult it could be to make ends meet if you didn’t have the right opportunities.
Of course, he made sure that he made all the right donations, but he gave back in every way that he could. He had never dated a woman who truly understood that. Even if they were on committees for fundraisers, they’d never really got it.
No, his mother would just have to wait a while longer for those grandchildren. The mother of his children would be different. He wouldn’t compromise there. His father could hold on to his duty until Adam was ready.
With a start, he noticed that the sun was up. Damn! It was past seven. Where had two hours gone?
He shook his head in bemusement. He didn’t often lose track of time like that. It was an odd day.
He didn’t know that it was only going to get odder.
Adam was already well into his workday when he checked the throwaway email account again. He had wanted to check it multiple times, so he had avoided checking it, on principle. He didn’t want to be ruled by impulses. He wouldn’t let this tattoo be important enough to interfere with his work. After all, he hadn’t let his injuries do that. Why would he cave for a tattoo?
But there was a reply from Birdie Campbell.
He read it and sat back, smiling. He read it again.
Well, well, well.
Birdie Campbell was obviously no pushover. She had effectively put him on audition, turning the tables very neatly.
He hit ‘reply’.
Dear Ms. Campbell,
I believe I understand your position. I would like to meet you, tonight, at Wings. I assume you know where it is. I’ll be there by eight, if you confirm that you can make it.
We can see if a commitment as big as this would work for both of us.
I look forward to seeing you. The mystery of my identity amuses me enough to keep it a secret that long. But tonight, it will be solved for you. Until then, I’ll be just
A.
Adam read it once, nodded and hit ‘send.’ He had a feeling that it would annoy Birdie Campbell.
Strangely enough, that thought amused him. For the first time in a long while, he was interested in something other than his work. He didn’t realize it, but things had changed, even if he wasn’t sure he was ready for any kind of change.
*****
Birdie was irritated with herself. She’d been checking her mail far too often, and it was distracting her from her work.
Of course, she was doing a fairly routine touch-up that she could do in her sleep. But the client was an old regular who came as much for conversation as her skill. She wasn’t giving him her best. That was unacceptable.
“I’m sorry, Sam, tricky bit here,” said Birdie, but she was lying. There was nothing tricky about the dancing cartoon skeleton she was doing on Sam.
At seventy, Sam had a sense of humor that Birdie hoped she would, too, when she was his age.
“You’re distracted,” remarked Sam.
Birdie was about to shake her head, but she paused, wiped, and shrugged.
“Maybe a little bit. Just a potential new client who is being a bit too mysterious for my tastes. It’s no big deal, I should be able to put it out of my mind.’
“But you hate mysteries,” said Sam with a chuckle.
Birdie grinned and started again.
“I do, at that. But I’ll cope. Anyway, I’ll probably be meeting him soon enough, so mystery will be solved, and life can go on as usual.”
“So, you’re meeting a mysterious stranger? Maybe I should come with you, for protection,” teased Sam, who was at least two inches shorter than Birdie and quite a bit softer. Birdie was all hard, lean, toned muscles.
She nearly snorted derisively.
“Yes, I definitely need protection, I suppose. However will I be safe in the hard world out there? It’s no place for a weak little woman like me!”
Sam chuckled.
“Shh, stay still,” admonished Birdie, and she made an effort to have a conversation with him instead of wondering if that damn A had replied.
Maybe she should’ve let Marley see if the email could be traced. Birdie knew that her work had been getting quite a bit of attention. Usually, that was a good thing. More attention meant more clients, and that was always good for business.
But attention could mean all kinds of things. There were all kinds of weirdos out there, and oddly enough, a lot of weirdos thought tattoos were cool. They also thought that people with tattoos were weirdos.
Birdie loved her own tattoos, though she didn’t have nearly as many as she might have been expected. For one thing, most tattoo artists seemed to have sleeves nowadays. Birdie didn’t like sleeves, especially since most people didn’t care about the significance of them.
Sometimes, Birdie turned down idiots who wanted tattoos that should be sacred. It might mean losing a bit of business, but Birdie preferred that to losing parts of her soul.
Thankfully, Marley agreed. It was nice to be in business with somebody who agreed with her on just about everything that mattered.
“I think we’re done for today, Sam. We’ll need another session to finish this, but give it a couple of days.”
Sam nodded.
“You’re doing a wonderful job,” he declared after examining it closely. He made Birdie laugh by striking a Hulk Hogan pose for her.
“Perfect. This tattoo is obviously an expression of absolutely everything you are,” teased Birdie.
“You are right, as always. I’ll see you soon.”
He began to turn away, then changed his mind and turned back to Birdie.
“Something about this mysterious potential client of yours has gotten you a bit jumpy, my dear. Make sure you meet in a public place, preferably on your turf somewhere. If not, take Marley with you. I know you can take care of yourself,” he hastened to add when Birdie opened her mouth indignantly, “but the world is a shitty place and you might not have to take care of yourself if you’re with a man who looks like he could take anybody down. I don’t want you to have to throw a punch, even if I know you can and connect very well.”
Birdie nodded grudgingly. Sam was an old-timer, and the admission that Birdie could punch the lights out of any man who tried anything with her was made with grudging respect. It had taken him a while to warm to Birdie, but when he did, he’d done it wholeheartedly. The advice came from a place of caring and concern. Birdie knew that.
“I won’t agree to meet him in a deserted alley alone, Sam. I’m confident, not a complete nincompoop. Don’t worry about me.”
Sam shook his head with a laugh as he left.
Birdie knew what the laugh meant. You couldn’t always choose what you felt.
So, she acknowledged the nagging voice inside her that kept telling her to check her email, and she did.
Pursing her lips, she read it through. She read it again.
She knew the place, of course. Wings was one of the places where she and Marley ended up quite often when they wanted to unwind and perhaps catch a game.
She knew everybody there. It would be perfectly safe.
But a part of her was perversely annoyed that he had suggested Wings. Why had he suggested her turf? It felt as if he were encroaching on her territory.
No, she was just being silly, she chided herself.
Still, she had promised Marley that she wouldn’t do this on her own, not without talking to him. She looked around and saw that he’d just finished with a client, and was cleaning up the station.
“Marley!” she called as she walked to him and helped him wipe it down.
“How did it go with Sam?”
Birdie chuckled.
“As usual. The dancing skeleton is going well. How was yours?”
Marley shrugged.
“A butterfly, but not an ordinary one. A butterfly with teeth. It’s more of a challenge than usual from an eighteen-year-old.”
“Well, we might have a bigger challenge soon. ‘A’ replied.”
Marley’s stance changed, putting him on alert. Birdie sighed. Was he going to go all protective on her? The last time they’d put gloves on, she had left him on his ass, and she knew she could do it again.
“What did he say?”
“He wants to meet me tonight. At Wings.”
Marley still looked wary.
“I’m coming with you,” he declared.
Birdie shook her head firmly.
“Marley, you know that I meet clients who want work done on scars on my own. He obviously values his privacy. The first meeting should be with me. Besides, you know I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself. And it’s at Wings. Jonas will be at the bar and he’s got an excellent eye for trouble.”
That was all true, but Marley still took more convincing. The harder she had to try to get him to agree that it was fine, the more determined Birdie got that she was going to go through with it.
Finally, after many promises that she had Marley on speed dial, he agreed not to follow her there.
Birdie found the butterflies in her stomach confusing. She was just meeting a client. It made no sense.
But something in her knew that it was important. It was vital.