Читать книгу Good, Bad...Better - Cindi Myers - Страница 8

ZACH FELT A MEASURE OF relief at the blatant confusion in her eyes. At least he could be fairly sure she wasn’t part of some plot to trick him into giving the cops a reason to shut him down. Grant Truitt was buddies with the mayor. Between the two of them, they were delivering on a campaign pledge to rid Austin’s Sixth Street entertainment district of any business the mayor deemed “not friendly to families.” He’d specifically mentioned Austin Body Art as the kind of place he’d like to see closed down.

Never mind that the majority of citizens cared more about getting potholes patched than whether or not the tattoo parlors and “gentlemen’s clubs” were run out of business. The mayor and the police chief had zealously harassed anyone and everyone who didn’t fit their definition of a respectable businessman.

“What do you mean, my father hates you?” she asked. “He doesn’t even know you.”

“Oh, we’ve met. Right after the election, he and the mayor made a point of stopping by here, with the press in tow, to point out that I’m the type of person they wanted to run out of town so they could make everything squeaky-clean and bland.” That little publicity stunt hadn’t gone over well, ending with Zach threatening to throw both of them out of the shop. Though he hadn’t seen Grant Truitt in person since, he was sure the police chief hadn’t forgotten him.

Zach had dealt with a barrage of health, fire and building inspectors looking for violations, and nosy cops who had accused him of everything from selling dope to working on underage kids. When they couldn’t find anything to pin on him, they’d laid off him for a while. Having the chief’s daughter added to the mix was just what he needed to stir things up again.

“Why would my father hate you?” Jennifer asked.

“Why does the sun shine? Play-by-the-rules pricks like him can’t stand people like me who don’t color in the lines.”

She looked thoughtful. “I guess you’re not the type of person my father approves of. I’m sorry.”

The words sent an uncomfortable quiver through his stomach. As though she really was sorry, not mouthing words. “Oh, hell, it’s not your fault.”

“Thank you…Zach.” She smiled, a shy, sweet look that made him want to reach across the counter and pull her down behind it. Who would have thought sweetness and light would be such a turn-on?

She signed the charge slip and left, pausing at the door to lift her hand in a wave. Before he realized what he was doing, he waved back. By the time he jerked his hand down, she was gone.

Theresa’s laughter was loud in the sudden silence. “I can’t believe this! She got to you, didn’t she?”

He opened the cash drawer and shoved the charge slip beneath the stacks of bills and checks. “Miss Mary Sunshine? As if.” He shook his head, though he avoided looking at his sister. She could always tell when he was lying.

“Maybe that’s exactly what shook you up.” She busied herself disassembling the tattoo machine and disposing of the needles into the red plastic biohazard container. “She’s very pretty.”

“Yeah, if you like white bread and sugar.”

“I don’t know.” When he glanced up, Theresa had her head tilted to one side, studying him. “I think there’s more to her than that.”

He shook his head. “You’re imagining things.”

“You mean you aren’t interested in seeing her again?”

He gave her a dark look. “If I never see Grant Truitt’s daughter again, I’ll die a happy man.” Maybe that wasn’t exactly true, but close enough. He didn’t need the kind of trouble a woman like Jennifer Truitt could bring into his life.

THOUGH SHE LIVED AT HOME, Jen tried to retain as much independence as possible. With her hectic practice schedule and her teaching job, she often went days without having a real conversation with her parents. But that evening she made it a point to stop by the living room and visit with them.

“Hey, Mama. Daddy.” She kissed her father on the cheek, then settled on the sofa next to her mother and pretended to study the abstract painting of swirls of gray and blue that hung over her father’s chair. He was quite proud of this newest acquisition, painted by some up-and-coming new artist. What would he think of Zach’s work? she wondered.

“Hello, Jennifer. To what do we owe—” Her father looked up from his paper, and his mouth dropped open as he stared at the tattoo peeking above the neckline of her dance leotard.

“What is it, dear?” Her mother frowned at her father.

“Exactly what I want to know.” He stood and crossed the room, looming over Jen.

She set her jaw and forced herself to meet his gaze. “It’s a calla lily.” She thought again of what Zach had said about the flower, and about her—innocent, yet sensuous—and felt a flush of pleasure.

“It’s a tattoo!” Her father spat the word like a curse. “Who did that to you?”

She’d expected him to be annoyed, but the strength of his anger surprised her. Honestly, did he think someone had attacked her and forced her to do this? “I paid to have it done.”

“Where?” he demanded.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I just decided to do it, and did it.”

“I don’t know,” her mother said. “Aren’t you afraid you might catch some disease?”

“Your mother’s right. Some of those places are filthy and—”

“This was a very clean place. I’ve been in doctors’ offices that weren’t as clean as this place.”

“Tell me the name and I’ll check the health department records.”

She didn’t want to tell him, but if he pushed, he could probably find out anyway. “It’s called Austin Body Art. And I checked—it has a great reputation.”

His normally ruddy complexion darkened to the shade of an old bruise. “That’s Zach Jacobs’s place.” He looked at the tattoo again, like someone studying a mortal wound. “He did this?”

She clenched her hands in her lap, struggling not to fidget beneath his angry glare. “Actually, his sister Theresa did the tattoo, but the artwork is Zach’s.”

“So you’re on a first-name basis? You stay away from that thug.”

Honestly, if her father could only see how ridiculous he looked, making this kind of a fuss. The thought gave her courage, and she sat up straighter. “He’s not a thug. He’s an artist.”

“How do you know so much about him? Have you been seeing him before now? Is that why you suddenly decided to do something so totally out of character for you?”

“Maybe this is in character for me. More so than anything I’ve done in years.”

“I don’t believe it. It has to be Jacobs’s doing.” He turned and stalked back to his chair. “I know him and his kind. They do everything they can to flout authority.”

“Zach isn’t flouting authority.” Unless you called having long hair and dressing in leather “flouting authority.” Which her father probably would. Still, despite his appearance, Zach hadn’t looked like a hardened criminal. “He even has a No Smoking sign in his shop.”

“That sign is required by city ordinance. You stay away from him.”

She blew out a sharp breath. “I can’t believe you’re getting this upset over a tattoo.”

“It looks ridiculous!” he said. “How many dancers do you see in pink leotards and tattoos?”

She looked down at her own rose-colored leotard. Okay, so maybe it didn’t have the same cachet as a leather vest. But her new tat would look right at home with the hip-hop threads she’d be wearing as a member of Razzin’!. “Maybe I’ll buy a new wardrobe to go with the tattoo,” she said.

“I suppose the next thing I know, you’ll come in dressed like one of those half-naked pop stars I see on TV.”

“What difference does it make to you how I dress?”

Her mother stepped between them as they glared at each other. “Both of you need to calm down.” She looked at her husband. “You know Jen’s always been very responsible.” Then she patted Jen’s shoulder. “And you know your father’s only looking out for your best interests.”

That was the argument he always used to justify his interference in her life. And always before, she’d let him get away with it. But too much was at stake to give in this time. “I know you both want the best for me,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. “But I have to start making my own decisions for my life—who my friends are, where I’ll live and work.”

Her father sat back in his chair, like an emperor on a throne, frown lines making a deep V in his forehead. “If this is about your moving to Chicago, we’ve already had this discussion. There is no way you’re going off to live alone halfway across the country, and that’s final.” He picked up his paper and shook it open, a signal the argument had ended.

“Why do you say that? This is the chance of a lifetime for me.” She leaned forward, fists clenched. Hadn’t they already been through this a hundred times? Why couldn’t he understand? “This is a dance company respected all over the world, and Razzin’! is already a tremendous hit.”

He laid aside his paper once more. “There’s nothing wrong with staying here and working with the Austin dance group. With your talent, you’ll have plenty of opportunities there.”

Obviously, he wasn’t listening to her. She turned to her mother, whom she could usually count on to get through to her dad. “Mom, you see that this is a fantastic opportunity for me, don’t you?”

Worry lines creased her mother’s brow. “It’s hard to think of you going off on your own to a dangerous city,” she said.

The way her mother talked, you’d think Jen was going to the moon. “How is Chicago any more dangerous than Austin? This isn’t some small town with no crime.”

“Chicago is a bigger city with more crime,” her father said. “And you’ll have no one to look after you there.”

Meaning he wouldn’t be there. “I’m not stupid,” she said. “I’m not going to cruise bad neighborhoods at night or put myself in harm’s way.”

“Of course you’re not stupid.” He looked offended by the very idea. “But you’re naive. You’ve led a very sheltered life.” His expression softened. “That’s my fault, I know. I’ll admit I preferred it that way.”

“If you really want the best for me, you’ll give me your blessing to go to Chicago. I’ll never have another chance like this.”

He shook his head. “I can’t do that. You don’t know the first thing about making it on your own. You’ve never rented an apartment or had to deal with your car leaving you stranded or been sick with no one to look after you. You can’t even imagine all the things that can happen to a woman by herself.”

He made her sound like a child who couldn’t find her way in out of the rain. Obviously, he saw her that way because she’d let him. All those years of doing whatever he’d wanted her to do had led him to believe she was helpless. She was paying for her complacency now. “I can learn those things,” she said. “I can make it on my own.”

Once more he looked offended. “Why should you have to, as long as I’m here?” He nodded. “I intend to make sure you remain safe.”

“I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.” What had happened to the indulgent, loving father who had always given her whatever she’d wanted?

But that was when she’d been the sweet, good girl who never made waves. “I’m going to Chicago,” she said, her voice firm.

“No, you’re not.” His expression was equally rigid.

“I don’t see how you can stop me.”

“I have friends in Chicago. They can use their influence to persuade the dance company to send you home.”

At first, she was sure she hadn’t heard him right. “You wouldn’t do anything so cruel.”

“I would do whatever I had to do to protect you.” Though his jaw remained set, the expression in his eyes softened a little. “Tough love is one of the hardest parts of being a parent. But you’ll see I’m right one day.”

She shook her head, too stunned to speak. “No, you’re wrong this time.” She ran from the room and up the stairs. She heard him calling after her, but she ignored him. Nothing he could say right now would ease the hurt she felt.

She sank onto the bed in her room, the same room where she’d spent most of her life. She’d thought about getting a place of her own many times, but her schedule didn’t leave a lot of free time for apartment hunting, and the salary she brought in wouldn’t allow her to rent anything very nice. It had seemed easier to stay at home.

Just like it had seemed easier to go along with her father’s wishes all these years. Until now.

She couldn’t live like this anymore. She gently touched the calla lily tattoo, her first sign of rebellion. Who would have thought her father would have such a fit over such a little thing? And the move to Chicago? Apparently, she wasn’t the only one with hidden feelings.

She slid off the bed and went to her computer and switched it on. Obviously, her father thought if he put up a big enough fuss, she’d back down and stay home like the good girl she’d always been. But she couldn’t do that this time. She couldn’t give up her dream job to keep the peace at home.

And in her heart she couldn’t believe he would keep her from that dream. When she showed him how serious she was about this, and that she could look out for herself, he’d come around. It might take some doing, but she was as stubborn as he was.

When the computer had booted up, she opened her word-processing program and typed in the address of the Chicago Institute of Dance. “Dear Sirs,” she began. “I am pleased and excited to accept the opportunity of an internship with Razzin’! I look forward to seeing you on September 1.”

She glanced at the calendar over her desk. The first of September was a little over two months away. Two months to make her dad see things from her point of view. Two months to put aside the complacent good girl and find out just how strong she really was.

Her letter written, she was carefully applying ointment to her new tattoo, per the printed instructions Theresa had given her, when her phone rang. She wiped her hands on a tissue and answered it. “Hey, Jen, can you talk?”

Her best friend Shelly’s voice, rich with a Georgia accent, filled her ear. “Sure, I can talk.” She lay back against the bed pillows. “What’s up?”

“I don’t know. Maybe nothing.”

“What has Aaron done now?” Aaron Prior was Shelly’s newly licensed lawyer boyfriend and, to hear her talk, was both the chief love and the chief cause of frustration in her life.

“It’s what he hasn’t done. Don’t you think after dating someone for five years, it’s not unreasonable to expect a ring? A proposal?”

“Have you asked him about it? I mean, where he wants to go with your relationship?”

“Believe me, I’ve tried. But I hardly see him these days. He’s always working or involved in something else. He’s broken dates twice in the past month. I’m worried he’s getting tired of me.”

“No! He adores you.” Most men adored Shelly. The voluptuous redhead could charm the most reticent recluse, a talent which came in handy in her job teaching junior high school students. “I’m sure it’s just the pressure of his new job.”

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s found someone else. A cute secretary or paralegal. Or another lawyer.” Shelly sounded utterly bereft. “That would explain why he’s suddenly spending so much more time on the job instead of with me.”

Jen leaned over to replace the lid on the jar of ointment, then arranged herself more comfortably on the bed. “I’m sure that’s not it. You need to pin him down and ask him. If you tell him what you’re feeling, maybe he’ll cut back on his hours.”

Shelly sighed like an overwrought actress told to convey frustrated regret. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about that man. But enough about me. What’s up with you?”

“Well…I got a tattoo today.”

“What!”

Jen had to move the phone away to prevent damage to her eardrum. “I got a tattoo.”

“What of? Where? When?”

Jen laughed, imagining the expression of avid interest on her friend’s face. “It’s a calla lily. Right above my left breast. And I got it this morning.”

“Did it hurt? What was it like?”

“It hurt a little. But…it was an interesting experience.” The presence of one very sexy artist had definitely upped the interest factor. “There was this guy there….”

“Oooh. I can tell by your voice he was hot.”

She laughed. “Yeah, he was hot. His name’s Zach Jacobs and he owns the place. Well, he and his sister do. Or maybe she just works for him. I’m not sure.”

“Who cares about the sister? Tell me about him.”

How to describe Zach? “He’s sort of dark and…brooding. He’s about six-two. Long, black hair in a braid. Gorgeous black eyes. Muscles. Tattoos, but not too many. Leather.” The physical description made him sound good, but it didn’t really tell Shelly anything about him.

“He sounds positively yummy!” Shelly said.

“Yeah, well, he’s really interesting, too. He’s an incredible artist.”

“Maybe I should go see him about a tattoo.”

The thought of shameless Shelly presenting her not-inconsiderable chest for Zach’s study made Jen’s stomach clench. “His sister did the actual tattoo,” she said. “Zach was just there.”

“Uh-huh. And you and he hit it off?”

“Sort of.” What had happened with her and Zach? Nothing really. But, then again, a lot.

“Your father would hate him.”

Shelly sounded so certain of this, but Jen hadn’t seen it coming. Then again, she’d never dated much, and even then only boring, respectable guys her father couldn’t help but approve of. “He wasn’t exactly thrilled with the tattoo, that’s for sure.”

“And you thought he would be?”

“Well, he’s never said anything before about the way I dressed or wore my hair.”

Shelly laughed. “Only because you’ve always been the perfect daughter. You never gave him anything to object to.”

She winced. “It’s not like I set out to live that way. It just…happened.”

“Personally, I’m glad you decided to step out of line a little. So why did you decide to get a tattoo all of a sudden?”

“It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. I figured, since I’m getting ready to go live in a new city and start a new job, it was a good time to try a few other new things.”

“I thought your dad wasn’t too keen on you going to Chicago.”

“He’s not.” She thought of his threat to use his influence to get her kicked out of the dance company. He wouldn’t really go that far, would he? Her stomach knotted as she remembered his words about tough love. Maybe he would. But not if she could persuade him otherwise. She glanced at the sealed letter on her dresser. She’d made a commitment now. She didn’t intend to back down. “I’m going to find a way to go. I just have to make him see what a good thing this is for me.”

“Maybe you should do something so wild your dad will be happy to see you move out of town.”

“You mean something that would embarrass him because he’s chief of police? I could never do that.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of something that would lead him to believe that getting you out of town would be the best way for him to protect you. Remember when you were ten and wanted to go to camp?”

She laughed. “I’d forgotten all about that. I was so mad when he said no, I started hanging out with that group of wild kids.”

“And the next thing we knew, your dad had signed you up to be away at camp practically the whole summer.”

She shook her head, remembering. “I was so homesick the first week away, I cried myself to sleep every night. But I wouldn’t have dared to say anything to him about it.”

“Maybe you should try the same thing now. But instead of friends, you need to find a guy who would worry him. Someone he’d do anything to get you away from.”

Jen immediately thought of Zach. One look at her with a leather-clad, long-haired tattoo artist would send her father’s blood pressure soaring. “I’m not ten years old anymore, Shelly. I couldn’t do something like that now.”

“Why not? I mean, if you’re going to be this grownup, independent woman, a fling with a hot, slightly dangerous guy seems like a good way to start. Personal freedom means sexual freedom too, right?”

“Right.” Not that she knew a lot about it, given her limited experience.

“Listen, I’ve got another call coming in. Maybe it’s Aaron. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Sure. Good luck with Aaron.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna need it.”

Jen said goodbye and laid the phone on her bedside table. She stared up at the ceiling, mulling over her options. While the idea of a fling with Zach made her heart race, she didn’t think she could pull it off. Better relegate that idea to the realm of fantasy.

But that didn’t mean she was giving up. She’d find some way to make her father see she was serious about living life on her own terms.

As soon as she figured out exactly what those terms were. She glanced again at the calla lily above her breast. The tattoo was a nice start. But her father was right—it looked out of place with her leotard. And most of the rest of her clothes weren’t cut to show it off to advantage.

Okay, then the next step was obviously a new wardrobe. She had some money saved, and charge cards. Time to buy some of the things she’d admired in stores but hadn’t had the guts to wear before. Now, what should she buy?

She remembered the leather halter Theresa had been wearing. Her new tat would look fantastic with something like that. But she’d left the tattoo shop without getting the card for the store. She smiled. “Guess I’ll have to make another trip to Austin Body Art.” She’d ask Theresa for some clothes-shopping advice. And if Zach happened to be there, maybe she could flirt with him a little. Just to see what happened next….

WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON ZACH WAS FINISHING AN elaborate design on a customer’s back while another artist, Scott, worked on a college girl, when Jen returned to the shop. The sight of her silhouetted in the sunlight in the doorway set every nerve in Zach’s body on red alert. She was wearing a dancer’s leotard and tights and a short, wraparound skirt that showed off every curve and muscle of her petite body. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice gruff.

“I wanted to see Theresa.” She walked into the shop and looked around, those gray eyes flickering over him.

“She’s not here.” He forced his attention back to his work.

“When will she be back?”

“I don’t know. She went to lunch.”

“I’ll wait.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her walk past. She moved with a dancer’s grace, her back a long, elegant line. He followed her with his eyes, distracted from his work and annoyed that he would let a woman do this to him.

“Maybe I can help you with something.” Scott looked up from the transfer he’d just applied to a coed’s ankle. A young, lanky blonde, Scott fancied himself a lady-killer.

“That’s okay. But thanks.” The smile she gave Scott made Zach tighten his grip on the tattoo machine. He didn’t miss the way Scott looked at her.

“How’s the tat?” Zach asked. If she had a simple question about that, he could get rid of her quickly.

She put a hand to the tattoo. “It’s great. Theresa did a beautiful job.”

“Let me see.” His customer, a beefy kid who played tackle for the University of Texas Longhorns, grinned and motioned her over.

She walked toward them, hips swaying, and leaned over, giving them both a great view of her cleavage. Her breasts weren’t very large, but they were nice and round, with pert nipples that pressed against the thin fabric of the leotard. Zach got hard watching her, while the customer all but drooled. “That looks great,” the kid said, his eyes almost bugging out of his head.

“Hey, watch it!” The guy flinched and shot Zach an angry look.

Scott laughed and Zach glared at him and shut off the machine. “Sorry. Didn’t realize I was bearing down so hard.” It was difficult to concentrate on his work with Jen so near.

She smiled and touched the tribal band etched around the customer’s bicep. “You have some very nice tattoos, yourself.”

When she reached out to touch the guy, it took all of Zach’s self-control not to shove her hand away. As it was, the kid was puffing up like a muscle-bound toad, ogling her as if she was a particularly juicy fly.

“Did Zach do all the work?” Her gaze flickered to him again as she asked the question.

The kid nodded. “Oh, yeah. Zach is the best.”

“Yes, he is the best, isn’t he?” Her smile made him hotter than ever.

“You told me you were the best!” The coed pouted at Scott.

“I do the best butterflies,” Scott said soothingly. “Now lie back and relax.”

Zach started up the machine again and returned to etching the feathers of a highly stylized eagle. Jen leaned over to watch him. “That’s gorgeous.”

The kid grinned. “Really slick, ain’t it? People that know tats know Zach’s work. No one else does anything like this.”

“Zach is definitely a talented artist.”

He tried to ignore the flush of pride that swept over him at her words. What did he care what this ballerina—or whatever kind of dancer she was—thought? “Why do you want to see Theresa?”

She straightened. “I’m hoping she can give me some advice.”

He almost laughed. His sister as Dear Abby? Hardly. “What kind of advice?”

Jen sat in a low-slung leather chair and crossed her long legs, the poor excuse for a skirt sliding up her thighs. The customer leaned forward, his mouth gone slack. Zach squeezed the kid’s shoulder, not too gently. “Sit up straight.”

He forced his own gaze back to his work, determined not to let her get to him. “What kind of advice?” he asked again.

“I’m trying to change my image.”

“I thought the tattoo was supposed to do that.”

“It was a start, but I need to do more.”

“Didn’t shock the old man enough yet, huh?”

She sat up straighter, her cheeks flushed. Bingo. He’d read her right, then. “I’ll admit, I want my father to see me differently. But I’m doing this for me, too. Moving to Chicago is a chance for me to start over, with a new image. Reinvent myself.”

“I thought your old man wasn’t going to let you go to Chicago.”

“He’s still against it, but I’m going to change his mind.”

She sounded so determined. But Zach wouldn’t have bet against Grant Truitt. “Why not just go, and the hell with what daddy says?”

“Yeah, why not do that?” the kid chimed in.

She frowned. “Because he’s promised if I do, he’ll contact some influential friends who owe him favors and they’ll put pressure on the dance company to kick me out.”

“He’d really do that?” the customer asked. But Zach already knew the answer to that question. Grant Truitt did whatever he damn well pleased. Before the “Clean Up Sixth Street” hoopla had died down, he’d been a frequent figure on the local news, pledging to rid Austin of “less desirable” elements. If the mayor hadn’t turned his attention to the more pressing issues of budget shortfalls and his chief aide’s involvement in a minor scandal, Chief Truitt and his minions would probably still be frequent, unwelcome visitors to the neighborhood.

“My father wouldn’t see anything wrong with forcing me to stay in Austin, because he’d see it as ‘protecting’ me,” Jen explained to the kid.

“So what makes you think you can do anything to change his mind?” Zach asked.

She sat back and smoothed her hands along the arms of the chair. She had nice hands, with graceful fingers and neatly trimmed nails painted a shell pink. He wondered what those hands would feel like on him. Would she be tentative? Or more assured?

“I don’t know what I’m going to do just yet, but I’ll think of something. The important thing is that, from now on, I’m going to live my life the way I want to live it, and stop worrying so much about what he or anybody else thinks.”

“Your old man sounds like a real prick.” The kid came out of his lust-crazed stupor long enough to comment.

Zach agreed, but it didn’t seem the thing to tell a woman her father was a prick, even if he was.

“He just…gets ideas in his head and won’t let them go.” She shrugged. “I think he still sees me stuck as a ten-year-old, needing Daddy to look after me. It would be sweet if it weren’t so annoying.”

Zach thought there was nothing sweet about her father, but that was probably a matter of perspective. “I don’t see how you think my sister’s going to help you.”

She smiled again and her eyes met his, the look of determination in them was stunning in its intensity. “She looks like a woman of the world. I figure maybe she can give me some tips.”

Tips about what? he wondered. Then again, maybe he didn’t really want to know what this woman was up to.