I cringe. Oh, here we freaking go.
“I was also not thinking she was one of you.” If he had said that with less attitude, it would have defused the situation, but he clearly isn’t intimidated by my father.
Stow it before I blow it, is not only Dad’s warning, but his exact words whenever I pop off at the mouth at him. I never pushed hard enough to see what him blowing it actually meant.
Time to diffuse the ticking time bomb that is Jase Steel.
“It was an honest mistake,” I say, hoping to catch his attention because Dad is turning red — I can even tell in the dim lighting— and his fists are actually balled-up at his sides. If I think about it, he truly resembles a cartoon character who is actually ready to explode into a million confetti-colored pieces.
He doesn’t look at me, but Arnesen gives me a sideways scowl, and yes, I know I shouldn’t have lied.
I attempt to step between them when Dad grabs my arms, moves me aside, and then demands, “Get your ass to bed.”
He isn’t stepping away, and Arnesen isn’t either.
Time to do the right thing or, in this case, the wrong thing to ensure there is no fight and that my overbearing father doesn’t do something because his grown-ASS, adult daughter is going to act her age.
Ass. Huh, that’ll surely work.
“I’m going for a swim first.”
I’m definitely not going for a swim.
I untie my wrap and let it drop to the ground before quickly starting to walk away.
“You aren’t going … What in the fuck did you do!”
“Jase!” I hear Carly yell, and then I see her running down the deck.
“What? This?” I ask as I reach behind me and point to my ink.
“Which one of those motherfuckers did that without asking permission!”
“Jase.” Carly stands between us, panting as she tries to catch her breath.
“No, nope, no way, baby. This is some bullshit.” Dad moves her to the side and starts coming toward me. “Who fucking did that to you?”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry. It’s scary … really scary.
“I had it done when I was in New York.”
“You go to some fucking shop in New York and let someone ink you? A tramp stamp, Isabella?”
When he grabs my arm, I see Paige’s brother step toward us. Carly does, too.
She grabs his arm, stopping him. “Pace, she’s fine.”
Pace. His name is Pace.
Again, in true cartoon fashion, Dad’s eyes bug out of his head as he whips around to look at … Pace. “And what the fuck do you think you’re gonna do, asshole?”
“Jase, that’s enough,” Carly says as Pace glares at my dad.
I pull my arm away from my father while he’s sidetracked, and he snaps his head back toward me.
I hold up my hand, stopping him from saying a thing while I begin to speak. “I asked you, and you told me no several times. It means a lot to me; just like yours do. And Dad, it’s pretty fu—”—I stop when his eyebrows nearly jump up and off his face then groan as his constant and obvious hypocrisy shines through … again—“messed up that you are covered in them yet tell me I can’t. That you can curse yet freak when I do. I’m a grown-ass woman, Dad.”
“You fucking think so?” he snaps.
“No, Dad, I know so! And I know damn well Momma Joe never gave you half the crap you give me. She let you make your own choices; learn as you grew and matured. So give me the same courtesy, would you?”
He throws his hands in the air. “You got a fucking tramp stamp!”
I refuse to tell him that … what’s-his-name talked me into the placement. And I refuse to point out the obvious—it’s not a tramp stamp.
“’She is beauty … She is wisdom … She is strength … She is love … She is me’. That’s what it says, Dad. It represents all the women in my life who have influenced me. It means so much to me. My mom, Grandma Charlotte, Momma Joe, and Carly. It represents them being a part of me.”
For a moment, I can see how it affects him, but then he’s back to pissed.
“The women?” he huffs.
“I could always get an arrow pointing to the crack of my ass with the words ‘He Is An’ above it, Dad.”
When Carly snorts, Dad looks back and snarls at her.
“I’m sorry, Jase, but that was hilarious.”
He rolls his eyes, throws his hands in the air, and then looks back at me. “Get your ass to bed.”
With my buzz wearing off and knowing my father isn’t going to leave this alone, I sigh as I bend over to pick up my wrap. Then I walk past him and stop in front of Pace. “I’m sorry I wasn’t honest about being part of the cast and not the crew, but as you can see”—I throw my thumb back toward my dad—“it’s sometimes a necessary evil.”
Pace nods. “If you were my daughter, I can’t say I’d be any different.”
“And she could be,” Dad sputters.
I roll my eyes and begin to walk away. “Night.”
Carly rushes up and stops me by taking my hand. “I think the thought behind your tattoo is beautiful.”
I can’t help hugging her any more than I can help feeling emotions building up behind my eyes as I whisper, “You’re love.”
“Oh Bell, so are you.” She hugs me tightly then steps back and smiles. “Can I see?”
A smile bursts out of me as I hand her my phone, excited that I no longer have to hide it and can finally show someone. “Can you take a picture for me so I can get a better look?”
“Of course.”
When Carly walks behind me, she clears her throat.
“Um, what did you say it says?”
“ ‘She is beauty … She is wisdom … She is strength … She is love … She is me’.”
“Oh dear,” she whispers.
Hearing the concern in her voice, I look back at her. She’s looking at my tattoo, cringing ever so slightly.
Eight
Thugs
Bella
Lying in the dining hall on an air mattress, amongst my siblings and cousins, I feel sick. And not because the water is rocking the yacht, because that is actually the only thing comforting to me right now. But because I have a tattoo on my lower back that I have pondered for years, and it’s now tainted by the artist who I have vowed to myself that I would find and castrate as soon as I get off this boat.
I hold up my phone one last time and look at the picture of what he did to me. The art is beautiful. Dare I say more detailed than I think I’ve ever seen?
Let’s be honest; I don’t dare. That’s why I’m thinking it … in my head.
But he tainted it.
She is beauty … She is wisdom … She is strength … She is love … She is mine.
“No, motherfucker, I am mine!” I hiss at the picture.
“Huh?”
I look up and get blinded by a flashlight in my face.
“Kiki, you’re blinding me.”
She turns it off. “Sorry.” Then she crawls over to me and sits on my air mattress. “Did you just say motherfucker?”