“What are you looking at?” I tossed my hands in the air and paced.
“Levi and I can finish the interviews if you want to leave,” he muttered, fumbling with the sleeve of his shirt.
I wasn’t sure if anyone would want to do interviews after the scene Frank had made, but I didn’t care to stay anyway.
“Okay, you two are on your own then.” A ragged breath left my lungs. I was still in shock. My mind ran in thousands of different directions. My heart hurt. Physically.
“Do you want anything?” Ashton asked, inching toward the door.
“No.” I froze in the center of the restroom. “I just need to drive around a bit and clear my head.”
“I guess I’ll see you at home?”
“Yes. You’ll definitely see me at home.” I laughed bitterly and pushed back the new wave of tears that pricked my eyes.
“All right then. Later, sis.” Ashton stepped out and the door closed.
I was left one-on-one with the mess in my head. Anger and helplessness zapped me again. I hated that, despite making me cry and ruining my night and possibly my reputation, Frank was like a bad splinter, buried deep beneath my skin. Constantly reminding me about his presence.
I slipped out of the building through the back entrance a few minutes later and rushed over to the valet to pick up the Porsche and be on my way.
There was no plan. No destination.
Reeling, I drove down Sunset with the windows down and the music full blast. A sea of text messages began to assault my phone shortly after I left the hotel. I ignored them all. I knew some, if not most, were from Frank, but my heart was in pieces. Talking to him right now would only make things worse. There would be apologies, and then tomorrow, there would be another drunk fight.
Instead, I turned up the music and continued my drive. I welcomed the stinging of the wind against my tear-stained cheeks and the exhaust fumes crawling into my nostrils. I welcomed anything that didn’t smell like a bottle of liquor or a dozen broken promises.
My agony rendered desire for more pain, but a different kind, to offset the affliction that was already there, created by Frank. New ink. A good hour or two of lingering hurt.
That was how I ended up in front of my tattoo shop. The soft scent of burning sage greeted me as I stepped inside. The attendant flashed me a crooked smile.
“Do you have an appointment?” he asked as I neared the counter. My heart hammered in my chest. Being here after blowing off my new tattoo artist felt strange.
“No.”
“All right. Let me make sure Jax can take you.” The kid skirted over to one of the stations that was out of my line of sight. Muffled whispers carried over from across the room.
This was a bad idea, Cassy, my inner voice said. You fucked this one up real good.
Two seconds later, Jax’s head with the military cut popped out from behind the oriental-style screen divider. Our eyes locked and he smiled at me. It was a warm, kind, and beguiling smile.
And for a second there, I felt calm and at ease. The feeling only lingered for a fraction of a second, but it gave me hope.
Just like last time, I was seated on the couch and given a cup of tea while Jax was finishing up with his current client. My phone kept buzzing. Text messages. Phone calls. Emails. Facebook. Twitter. Instagram. With everything going on, I totally forgot to reach out to the social media manager Linda had recommended.
“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” Jax said once his client left. He looked the same. Hot. Fit. Happy.
“Yes. I’m sorry about flaking out on you.”
“It’s okay. Things happen. I’m sure you have a valid reason.”
Yes, I fell in love with Frankie Blade, and now that he turned out to be just another rich jerk, I’m crawling back for more ink and perhaps sympathy. Although I don’t deserve the latter.
“I guess you could say so,” I muttered, getting to my feet to shake his hand.
Did he read the tabloids? Did he follow Hall Affinity? Did he know I was seeing Frank? All these questions swarmed through my head as we walked over to his station.
“Any idea what you want to get?” Jax asked.
I took a deep breath. My voice was barely there. “Honestly, I’m not having a very good day. What do you recommend for a broken heart?”
He stared at my face for a good minute, studying me. “I would recommend something that doesn’t remind you about it?”
“Makes total sense.”
“You should get a tattoo that represents you.” He spoke as if he knew what had happened. Even if he did, he was kind enough not to ask me any questions.
“I don’t even know who I am right now,” I confessed.
“You, Cassy Evans, are a Wonder Woman.” He smirked and grabbed a brochure with designs from one of the shelves. “And I’ve got just the thing for you.”
Chapter Ten
I woke up to the familiar stinging sensation on my newly inked shoulder blade. The noise in the living room told me Ashton was home. My head hurt. My chest felt cold and hollow. Frank’s words were a stigma branded into my brain and they burned. I lay in my bed and stared at the ceiling for what seemed like forever. The dread of facing the slander that had flooded social media overnight made me anxious.
Summoning all my courage, I scrambled for my phone and flipped through my notifications to weed out potential trolls. The last two days had been hectic. Between meetings and sex with Frank, I hadn’t been checking my inboxes or my follower count, but seeing three thousand new fans on Twitter shocked me. Online attention was obviously expected, but witnessing it for myself left me stunned and my heart started racing.
Swallowing past the tightness in my throat, I sat up, then logged out of the app and logged back in to make sure it wasn’t some kind of glitch.
The numbers remained the same. Obviously, most of these users were following me for one reason only, to spy on Frank.
Too bad for them. I wasn’t sure that we were still a thing. I didn’t want us to be a thing. Not when he couldn’t control himself in public. There was nothing that could possibly erase all the dirt he’d poured on me yesterday at the party.
Shaking off my unease, I returned to my Twitter feed and scrolled through the posts until my eyes caught a grainy shot of Frank and me on stage. It was from last night. I tapped the image to zoom it in. Instead, the picture began to move. It was a GIF. Frank destroying Carter’s drum set and me trying to get him up.
Oops!…I did it again! the text under it read.
Acid coated my throat. I exited the app, slid from my bed, and paced the room. The tremor that took over me was from deep in my bones. A mean rattle. I shook, my breath an uneven quiver. We were a fucking GIF now and the entire planet was going to keep making fun of us for the rest of eternity. Unbelievable. It only took us a few days after we’d gone public.
My phone buzzed in my hand. It was Levi.
“Did you check your email yet?” he asked, his tone full of panic.
“No. I think I’m just going to disappear for a couple of years,” I joked, walking over to my computer.
There, in my inbox, sat an unread email from Margerie Helm. My gaze skimmed over the text. What? No! I rubbed my eyes and read it again. Disappointment pulled at my chest.