Chapter 18

Margot

I drew the pattern across the blank page—a series of two triangles, then a circle, then two triangles, then a circle. I left space at the end, then handed the thick pencil to Jemma-Kate and leaned against the sofa’s end.

We’d taken up a spot on the living room floor, the TV playing an old rerun of one of the Tom and Jerry cartoons, the sound turned low.

“Can you finish the pattern, Jemma?” I asked.

I spent some time each day with her, helping her refine her fine motor coordination, whether it was playing with LEGOs or practicing patterns and letters. This was part of our bonding time. It felt sisterly, rather than motherly, and I loved every second of it, regardless.

But this afternoon, I couldn’t bring myself to the present. I was stuck in this morning, watching as Cain wrecked a man’s camera then tossed him backward.

“Like this?” Jemma asked, and the scratching of the pencil followed. She completed the pattern and sat back, grinning as only a five-year-old could.

“That’s exactly right,” I said and kissed the top of her head. “Man, soon you’ll be drawing patterns for me, and I’ll be completing them.”

“I won’t draw triangles,” Jemma announced, and filled out each circle with two dots and a curved line, transforming them into smiley faces.

“Oh yeah? What would you draw?” I asked, and stifled a yawn—I was exhausted after today. Work hadn’t ended after Cain left, and him leaving had stuck me with a cameraman following me around as I spun to cancel Cain’s appointments and fulfill my own.

“I’d draw hearts,” Jemma said, then made good on her promise by drawing one below the pattern. “See, this heart is for you. And this heart is for Gamma.” She drew two, then tapped her bottom lip with the end of the pencil. “And this smaller one is for me.”

“You should have the biggest on of all,” I said, and grabbed a red crayon from her pencil bag on the carpet. I drew an extra big one for her. “There, that’s your heart.”

She grinned, then drew another one.

“Who’s that one for?”

“Cain,” she replied. “Gamma said he’s part of the family too.”

Oh for god’s sake. I can’t escape him. Not even at home. Not even in my own thoughts.

“That’s sweet of you, Jemma,” I said. “Now, why don’t we color in these hearts? What about purple?”

“No, yellow! I like yellow. Yellow is my favorite color of all the colors because it’s the color of the sun,” she said and plucked out the crayon.

I responded by stroking her hair and switching my gaze to the cartoon on the TV. Tom ran around the corner and stepped on the end of a rake. The wooden handle flipped up and whacked him right on the nose with a comical “boing.”

Right now, I was totally Tom. I’d walked right into this problem.

Then again, I’d hardly seen it coming either. Cain still hadn’t explained exactly why he wanted to be in the shop, why it was so important to him, but I could only figure he had selfish reasons.

That’s not fair. He took you to Japan. That wasn’t for him, it was for you.

My phone pinged on the coffee table, and I scooched forward and snatched it up, unlocked the screen. It was a message from Guy. He hadn’t come in this morning, and I’d been pretty happy about that.

“Hi, Margot. I’ll be by later in the week to talk to you about the script and the pilot. Hope everything is going well at the store. I heard there was an altercation this morning.”

I dragged my teeth across my bottom lip and returned to my position beside Jemma, who’d now selected brown as her next best color to decorate the hearts.

“What’s wrong, Madgie?” Jemma asked. “You’re making those noises again.” She looked up, the brown crayon dangling from between her fingertips.

“Noises?”

“The ones where it sounds like you’re a fish on the floor.” She mimicked my heavy breathing and I burst out laughing and ruffled her hair. “What, it’s true!”

“I’m fine, kiddo,” I said, and enjoyed the ray of joy that speared through me. She was the little bit of sunshine that kept this household smiling, even through the dark times. The joy faded, and the somberness of the situation set in. I couldn’t let Jemma down.

I lifted the phone and typed out a reply. “Nothing serious. I’ll see you this week.” I sent it off. That was fine. It was short and to the point, casual, even.

I sighed and dropped my phone in my lap. No sooner had it hit my legs then it pinged for a second time.

Sheesh, what was I, popular or something? Maybe all the attention I’d missed out on in high school as the nerdy chick who read too many books had suddenly come screaming into my life. I lifted the phone and checked the number.

No one I recognized. Weird. And it was a text. Who’d text me from a number I didn’t have plugged into my contacts?

I clicked on it and an image opened on my screen.

It was a shot taken from the outside of a shop, the interior of which sent ice through my veins. That was Kelly’s shop, all right. God, I’d recognize the garish purple paint and half-naked images from a distance of three miles. It was that tasteless.

But who was—?

“What?” The word escaped my lips before I could stop it.

“What?” Jemma-Kate asked and peeked at my screen.

I shifted it away.

Cain sat in a leather armchair beside Kelly, who had a hand on his arm. What the hell was this? Was he discussing business with her? Or something else?

He doesn’t want her. He can’t want her. Oh my god, who cares if he wants her or not, what is he doing in there with her?

I scuffled to my feet and Jemma frowned up at me. “Madgie?”

“I’ll be right back, sweetie. I’m going to check what Gamma’s making for dinner.” I walked out of the living room, keeping my pace even, though my heart beat like it wanted to bust out of my chest and yell, “Hey, Macarena!”

This isn’t a big deal. It’s manageable.

Or was it?

As much as I hated working with Cain every day—because I couldn’t stand lusting after someone and feeling things I wasn’t ready for—I couldn’t deal with the potential stress that he might pull out of Get Ink’d.

If he did, we’d fall flat on our ass. His finances were the only thing that had kept us afloat after Dad had passed. We simply hadn’t made enough in the past month to cover the losses, and if he left, I wouldn’t make rent.

I walked down the hall toward the kitchen and peeked in. Mom had left a casserole in the oven, and the smells of garlic, rosemary, and cooking meat filled the kitchen, but she was nowhere in sight. That suited me just fine. I needed the moment to breathe, to calm the hell down.

Nothing was the end of the world.

That was what my father had taught me. All challenges were manageable if they were viewed from the correct angle.

I walked to the sink and looked out into the small back garden. My mother was out there, sitting under the trees and sipping from a cup. God, that image was… it was time immemorial. She’d done the exact same thing hundreds of times before. Tea breaks were her thing.

I welled up, tried but failed to keep the tears at bay. There was so much riding on Get Ink’d and the show.

Get it together! Woman up, Margot.

I unlocked my phone’s screen and exited the image, then brought up a blank text. I attached the image, then typed beneath it. “Can you explain what’s going on here? If you’re going to pull out of Get Ink’d, at least be honest about it, please. I need to prepare for the future. For my family.”

I hit send, then blew out a breath in a long stream, lips forming a little O. It would be OK. It had to be OK.

Besides, Cain had wanted to help us out financially a few days ago. Surely, he couldn’t do a total 360 in such a short amount of time? But doubt crept through me. Impulsive decisions were his forte and always had been.

My phone buzzed in my palm and Cain’s number—not his face, thank god, that would’ve been torturous—flashed on the screen.

I swiped my thumb across it, then pressed the phone to my ear and looked out at Mom sitting at the end of yard.

“Cain,” I said.

“Who sent you that picture?” he asked.

“Does it matter? I have it, and I’d like to know what the hell is going on. This isn’t your business. It’s ours.”

“It sure as hell matters, Margot. Whoever sent you that picture did it to stir the pot, and that means they have an ulterior motive,” he continued. “I’ll be damned if I let them get away with it. It was that slug of a man. I know it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, voice shaking because I couldn’t hold back my anger a second longer. My anger or my grief.

I’d kept it together for Jemma and Mom. I’d never grieved for Dad in the way they had because if I’d let myself break, who would be there to help them? Who would be the rock when the house fell down?

“Cain, I just want to know what’s going on.”

“Nothing is going on.”

Relief surged upward.

“I wouldn’t touch that woman or her shop with a thirty-foot, dick-shaped pole if you paid me. And you couldn’t pay me enough,” he said.

“Then what were you doing in her shop?” I asked. I couldn’t keep the insecurity out. God, it was pathetic. I wasn’t this person.

“She caught me walking down the street after you told me not to come back to Get Ink’d.”

Yeah, I hadn’t wanted him to come back and cause trouble. That didn’t mean I didn’t want him as a partner in the damn business. Like it or not, I needed Cain right now.

In more ways than one. No!

“She offered me a partnership in that fuckfest of a parlor,” he said, and laughed. “Can you believe it? What a load of turds.”

“I—OK,” I said, and exhaled. This was good. He wasn’t pulling out of the shop. And he wasn’t pulling out of her either. Wow, that was a detestable thought. “OK, that’s fine. Thank you,” I said, and kept it as formal as possible.

My emotions had run too high with Cain already. This was a total cock-up and I needed to regain control before it was too late. “Thank you for allaying my fears,” I said.

“There a reason you’re talking like a robot right now?”

“No, I’m just being professional.”

“Whatever you say, C3PO. We need to talk about what happened this morning. Come down to the shop and let’s get, uh, how did you put it? Professional.”

“No,” I replied. “I’m tied up here. Cain, I’ll see you tomorrow and we can discuss this properly.” If I went there now, professional would become physical, and that would be the end of my last smidgen of control over my own heart.

“Margot. Come here now.”

“Have a good night, Cain. Stay safe. Don’t go tossing any cameras into the street,” I said, then hung up.

I exhaled and sagged against the kitchen counter.

It couldn’t go on like this. I couldn’t keep stressing over him and what he’d do next.

This had to end. Soon.