Jace threw his arms around me the second I entered the parlour. Stressed to the max, he ridiculed my sodden image and then beseeched me to decorate the shop floor ready for the opening night of Pierced and Inked.
Two hours, I had to listen to Jared and Shane, Jace's newly hired fresh-faced, tattoo-models and roomies, bickering about unimportant, irrelevant topics such as science fiction television shows, the eponymous rapscallion Austin Powers, the inventor of tissue holders and the consumption guidelines of pop tarts.
What has my life come to?
Oh, I gave those lazy, beer ingesting men a lambasting from hell. Off with their heads, I prattled on until they feared the hormonal pregnant woman enough to assist professional caterers at the buffet table. I didn't let them eat the festively coloured macaroon biscuits or get a sniff of the pastiche and charcuterie boards. I did, however, authorise the sampling of ribbon sandwiches and bite-size tortilla wraps on the bases they'd stock-up the chiller with champagne.
Jace showered and changed into his all-black attire before locking himself in the office to imbibe vodka, or so I determined.
The men readied the studio for impending guests, so I barricaded myself inside Jace's all-masculine bedroom to freshen up.
As I adopted the role of an annoying sister, I peeled off the half-dry glamour from my body and added them to the laundry basket.
Revitalised and smelling like an English rose, I tiptoed across the bedroom and emptied the holdall I had packed for this evening onto the double bed.
Towel dried and moisturised, I changed into a silver, one-shoulder sequin dress, knotted the back of my sandals and half-heartedly applied warpaint to my face.
"Alexa?" Jace knocked the bedroom door upon entering. "You look nice." He slumped onto the bed, which almost caused me a mascara malfunction. "Sorry."
"It's fine." I tossed the mascara aside and uncapped the lipstick. "Did they guys find homes for the balloon archways?"
I ordered silver and black helium displays from a local party supplies store.
"One by the entrance," he tells me, changing positions to get comfortable. "I think they put one above the food." He shrugged. "Hey, so, because you are pregnant and boring, I got us this." Rolling onto his side, he blindly reached under the bed and brandished non-alcoholic champagne and two glass flutes. "I wanted us to make a toast before the commotion commenced."
I held the delicate glass stems for Jace to pop the cork and pour effervesces. Setting the half-empty bottle onto the bedside table, he sat upright for us to clink glasses. "To making memories with my best friend," he said hoarsely, his green eyes alight. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
"To my ride-or-die." Teary-eyed, my lips stretched into a smile. "Let tonight be the beginning of new, memorable adventures. For you, Mr Williams," I gripped his jaw and laid a chaste kiss to his cheek, "deserve all the happiness in the world. And I am so glad you chose me to be part of your journey."
"I love you," Jace said, and I nodded. "But it's your turn to do laundry this week."
I burst out laughing. "I only left a few items in the basket."
"Alexa, every time you visit, I find at least a rolled-up sock on my bathroom floor." He sipped champagne. "Also, what's with the white box on the kitchen counter."
"I got you a cake." I put cosmetics in my bag. "I know how much you love sugar, so I ordered an extra layer of chocolate frosting."
Jace groaned in approval. "I'm salivating already."
In the hallway, a room door rattled. Harlyn, modelling a simple black dress and pink shoes to match her vibrant hair, strolled ahead.
The silence lengthened in the room. I looked back to Jace to find a severely unamused expression on his face. "What?"
"I can't believe I let you talk me into that," he huffed, tousling his brown mane. "And before you try and convince me otherwise, Jared and Shane agree with me."
"Oh, well, if those pair of short-sighted dimwits agree with you, then, who the hell am I to argue the matter?"
Jace curled up his lip. "Harlyn sings in the shower."
I sing in the shower. "So?"
"She leaves her shoes in the hallway, like, all over the floor."
Okay, that's annoying. "Ask Harlyn to keep the shoes in her bedroom."
"I did," he deadpans. "You will still see an unimpressive amount of ugly shoes outside my door."
Giggling at the preposterousness of this conversation, I stood taller and secured the satin bow around my waist. "You spit toothpaste everywhere—the basin, taps and mirror."
Jace fixed his nose ring. "What's your point?"
"You almost never wash your cereal bowls. You put them in the kitchen sink and expect the cleaning fairy to come along and do your chores."
Swinging his arm over my shoulders, he trudged beside me as we ambled down the hallway. "Where are you going with this?"
"Flinging the duvet over the mattress and leaving the pillows wherever they land? That's your way of making a bed. You, much like my former-self, drink so much vodka it borderlines alcoholism. You live on takeout food, grouse when harmlessly inconvenienced by others, judge everyone who isn't part of your inner circle and relish the fact your big, burly, formidable body of ink intimidates others. You, my dear old friend, are not a walk in the park."
With the darkness as our witness, Jace put a hand on the door adjacent to the studio, preventing our expected arrival. "Why are we fault-finding?"
"I couldn't care for your flaws, Jace. I love you, regardless. What I am saying, though, is you need to look in the mirror from time to time. So, Harlyn clutters the halls. Big deal, right? If you actually allowed yourself to tolerate her—"
"Please stop talking." He covered my mouth with his big, meaty hand. "You're spinning me out."
Latterly noticing his blood-shot eyes, I peeled his inked fingers from my lips. "You are stoned."
He gave me a lopsided smirk. "I know."
"Why did you wait until I was pregnant to be reckless?" I was unfathomably jealous. "God, now I crave marijuana, and I don't even know how to smoke it."
"Smoking has nothing to do with skill, Alexa." Staring at me through heavy-lidded eyes, he put his back to the closed door. "How about I save you some for when the baby's born?"
"Sure." I liked the sound of that. "Now, back to Harlyn."
His eyes visited the ceiling.
"Jace," I scolded, and he snatched my arm, hauling me to his chest for a hug. "You are cutting off my air supply, you big lump."
He patted my head. "Just stop talking."
Wriggling my head through his crossed arms, I glared up at him, puffing hair from my face. "Promise me."
"What am I promising?" he asked, the tip of his finger, outlining my bent eyebrow. "Quit envisioning my butchered job of penectomy, Alexa. I know how that wicked mind of yours works."
"Promise me that you and the guys won't be so hard on Harlyn."
Reaching behind him, Jace worked the door handle. "Fine." Bright lights and rock music penetrated our once, dark silence. "Only because I love you."
We joined the party, staying at each other's sides. I couldn't drink, so I decided to play hostess, pouring champagne flutes and offering guests complimentary appetisers.
"Dare You to Move" by Switchfoot sounded from the portable speaker, and I caught Jace mouthing the lyrics as he nursed a bottled beer. He almost pulled a sip, but his gaze located the chrome angel wings above the shop door, the personalised metal, a calligraphy of his daughter's name.
"How many free sittings do you want us to do?" Jared, who unexpectedly glued himself to Jace, reversed his bright blue ball cap. "If they select small pieces, I could probably fit in around four or five. Six with a push."
Jace's Adam's apple wedged on a tight swallow. Ignoring Jared, he curled an arm around my neck and tucked me into his side. "Thank you," he said throatily in my ear.
Squeezing his forearm, I kissed his inner wrist.
Jared saw our exchange. "Do you guys, like, fuck or something?"
"Jared!" we berated in unison.
"I was only asking." The pale-faced idiot held up his hands in surrender. "Shane," he called, and the blond linked our circle. "Be honest. Did you think Alexa and Jace were into the whole Netflix-and-chill?"
"Yeah," Shane agreed, biting into a crustless sandwich. "Is that not the case?"
"Dick head," Jace muttered, biting his bottom lip to try and curb an unstoppable smile. "Alexa's like an annoying sister who leaves her shit everywhere."
"Hey," I cautioned, unable to deny the fact.
"So, you guys have never...?" Jared's eyebrows danced. "Oh, come on. Don't make me say it."
"Jared wants to know if you and your annoying sister ever fucked," Shane said unashamedly. "Basically."
Jace grew serious. "That's none of your business."
"I fucking knew it!" Jared barked, fist-pumping Shane. "How can you be friends with a former fuck buddy, though? No offence, Alexa. I'd crease the sheets with you..."
I gave him my finger.
"Alexa was never a fuck buddy," Jace grated out, and I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me. "We're all adults here. If Alexa and I are mature enough to see beyond one-night together, then there's no shame or blame in that."
"I guess that's kinda cool." Shane sucked mayonnaise from his thumb. "What if one or the other starts dating, though? No jealousy or awkwardness?"
"No," I said, wishing people wouldn't see our relationship as unconventional or abnormal. "Look, not that it's got anything to do with you, but one night, Jace was sad, and I was sad, and, well, for a moment, we lost ourselves in each other's sadness. Was it wrong to alleviate our pain? Does our past warrant the unsolicited judgments of others?" I hadn't meant to sound harsh, but this conversation needs instant curtailing. "Besides, I am in a loving relationship."
Jared seemed taken aback. "Really?"
"Yes," Jace spoke up, polishing off the rest of his beer. "Alexa's dating Liam Warren."
Shane choked on a sausage roll. "No shit?" he wheezed, and Jared tapped his back. "That must be fun and games."
I am seconds away from taking off a shoe and impaling them with my heel.
Jared, who's apparently the impish one, grinned wolfishly. "Okay, I know that I am nosey, but seriously, is there any credence to the rumours?"
"Regarding Liam?" I mused, playing along, and Jared's eyes widened in delight. "No."
"Really?" His shoulders drooped despondently. "So he's not as bad as the streets depict?"
I acted unfazed. "Oh, he's worse." Jared and Shane exchanged pallid glances. "You know, Liam's due to arrive any moment, so why don't you ask him these questions directly?"
Well, that's if Liam shows face. I've lost count on how many text messages I sent him earlier.
Jared laughed a nervous laugh. "Yeah, no thanks."
"Seriously?" Harlyn, conveying heavy boxes, made a pit-stop. "Why am I running ragged when you losers stand around doing nothing?" Her insult wasn't aimed at me but the men. "People are waiting for their free sittings—and you." Her grey-blue eyes pierced Jace with haughtiness. "What example are you setting for your employees? I hope you don't expect me to tattoo everyone by myself."
"Put a fucking cork in it, Harl." Affronted, Jace stood taller. "Who said, I wasn't going to deliver?"
Harlyn distributed the boxes to Jared. "Well, don't blame me if people start walking out." Grabbing essentials from the front desk, she stalked through the men and into the back while simultaneously gesturing for an older male to follow.
"And you expect me to put up with that," Jace muttered under his breath.
Jared watched Harlyn settle at her station. Tapping the table, she urged her client to lie down and prepared his chest for a tribal piece. "I want to bone her."
I laughed. "I think she would be fun to ride."
"She'd be lucky to get a Harlem dick slap from me," Jace snorted, and the men ruptured into facilitating laughter.
"Oh, that's disgusting." My nose crinkled. "Why do I surround myself with incorrigible men?"
"Better off," said Shane. "Women are too bitchy."
"Debatable." I gawked at him in disbelief. "Nowadays, I am learning that males can be devious gossipmongers."
"Yeah, I do not deny my motormouth." Jared tossed his empty beer bottle in the bin. "Right, I need to find someone's skin to prick. I'll catch you guys later."
"Hey." A potential female customer nudged Jace's elbow, a price list pamphlet in hand. "Can I inquire about the vipers piercing?"
Jace eyed her suspiciously. "How old are you?"
Her cheeks pinkened. "Eighteen."
In Jace's defence, the short, meek, auburn-haired beauty resembled a high school student.
"I have a driver's licence." Fumbling with her purse, she flashed his identification. "I have never gotten a piercing before, so I'm a little nervous."
"You should start with the ears, then," Jace advised, but she seemed hellbent on the viper. "If you're sure."
"Yes." Nodding enthusiastically, she shadowed him to one of the stations and, of course, I followed because I am a busybody. "Does it hurt?"
"Everyone's pain threshold varies—take a seat." With his back to us, Jace washed his hands thoroughly at the basin and then prepared supplies onto the workstation. "Alexa, can you grab the mouthwash and a disposable bowl from under the counter."
Squatting by the steel cupboard, I did as instructed and handed over the goods. "Do you mind if I watch?"
"Not at all." Uncapping the mouthwash, she swished her mouth for sixty seconds and spat into the container. "I can't stop shaking."
And I so needed ice cream for this show. "You'll be fine."
His fingers stretching into sterile gloves, Jace pulled up a chair. "Left or right?"
Her eyes sought mine. "Right?"
Why is she asking me?
"Left," I thought aloud, knowing she'd rock it.
"Relax." Jace positioned a ballpoint pen in a vertical line against her nose and marked the spot below her lip. "Two piercings for a vipers bite," he tells her, and she blanches. "Why don't you start with a side labret?"
Harlyn paid a visit. "No, she'd look good with a viper."
"Nobody asked you," Jace bites out, and she rolls her eyes, resting a hand on the rear of his chair. "Did you need something?"
Flinging her pink hair over one shoulder, Harlyn studied the girl. "What about a Monroe?"
Jace pursed his lips. He liked Harlyn's suggestion, but the stubborn man stayed quiet.
"I'll trust you guys to do right by me," the girl said nervously.
"Okay." Wiping her upper lip with a sterile wipe, Jace marked the spot and extracted a needle. He gently clamped her lip, revealing her upper teeth, and she winced, slamming her eyes shut. "Most say that's the worst part."
"I hope so," she said, her breathing coming in heavier. "Will I pass out?" Before she could change her mind, Jace inserted the needle, piercing through her hollow lip. "Mmhmm," she grunted. "Hurts."
Removing the needle, Jace pushed a barbell into position, fastened it in place and set the clamp aside. "All done."
Fascinated, I looked. "I want my lip pierced."
Harlyn unclasped a compact mirror. "It suits you."
Admiring her reflection, the girl, her lip swelling already, slackened in relief. "I love it. Thank you."
Jace gave her an aftercare facts sheet with instructions on the healing stages. As another person is waiting in line for a piercing, I made myself scarce.
Ted's been quiet tonight and, although I can barely stomach the man, I felt sorry for him, sitting in the Bentley, alone, whilst we partied indoors, warm and entertained.
I plated up food: sandwiches, pastries, cocktail sausages, colourful peppers and cucumber sticks.
Peace offering in hand, I opened the front door and exited into the night, the strong winds blowing through my hair. My eyes bouncing from left to right, I searched for the familiar Bentley. "Bundy?" I called, walking to the curbside, shivering from the cold air against my skin.
The empty street reminded me of a ghost town at night. Only a stray cat crossing the road and not a moving vehicle in sight.
Great, I thought, turning on my heel to go back inside. Liam would lose his shit if he knew Ted left me unprotected.
Gripping the door handle, I jerked it up and down, but the door didn't budge. "Jace?" Knocking the frosted glass, I tried to peer through the decorated window. "Shane? Jared? Can someone open the door?"
Muffled music rattled the windowpane. I knocked again, growing impatient. "Shit." Discarding the plated food into a steel dumpster, I dusted off my hands and rounded the building, hoping Jace left the back door unlocked.
But I knew to stop walking. Felt it deep within my core, the sudden realisation that I wasn't alone, that someone was watching me. "Ted," I whispered, lifting my eyes to look around the bleak, sideway of Pierced and Inked. "Are you there?"
I felt a shiver run up my spine.
Swallowing the taste of putrid bile, I snubbed any crazy thoughts and continued ahead, the sound of my heels resounding with each step.
I tried the back door, the handle fixed in place. "Breathe, Alexa." Blowing out a long, calming breath, I knocked harder, more determined, my mind racing to impossible depths of obscurities.
My phone vibrated, and I thanked my lucky stars. Lifting my dress, I peeled it from under my garter and stilled, the unknown caller rationing my feverish apprehensions.
Ending the call, I dialled Jace's number, but it forwarded me straight to his voicemail box. "Don't panic," I mantra, calling Liam's number next. "Such a drama queen." Putting the phone to my ear, I composed myself, inhaling a breath of encouragement. "Come on, Liam." This man never answers his bloody phone.
I landed in his mailbox. "Ted's AWOL," I snitched, putting my back to the bricked wall. "I mean, he's disappeared. And I can't get inside Jace's shop because the front door jammed behind me, so, yeah, I am freaking out right now, freezing my non-existent tits off. Should I order a taxi?"
Liam's not going to answer. It's a damn voicemail, Alexa.
"Wait by the front door, perhaps? Tell me to breathe, Liam," I yelled, lowering the phone to see the battery died.
I wipe sweat from my forehead. "Oh, God." My chest constricting, I pressed the heel of my hand to my thunderous heart, briefly closing my eyes. "Breathe."
When my eyelashes fluttered open, I saw a tall, loitering silhouette near the recycling depot. I shut my eyes and reopened them, praying the figure was a figment of my imagination. No, it's still there, taunting me as it slithered from between two communal dumpsters.
"I have a gun," I lied, knowing the revolver was in my handbag, which I stupidly left in Jace's bedroom.
Beneath the dimly lit security light, a familiar face emerged from the shadows. She wore her long blonde hair in two braids. Low-rise studded jeans and a skimpy black camisole top under a worn leather jacket. "No, you don't have a gun." Her knowing smile ripped goose pimples across my naked flesh. "Where's your guard, Alexa? Ted, isn't it?"
Her condescending tone had me worried for Ted. "Did you hurt him?"
Lifting a shoulder, she moved closer, and I stepped aside, preparing myself to run. "Would you care?" she mused, and I swallowed a painful lump. "You don't like him very much."
How do I handle this? I am pregnant. I am not supposed to fight deranged women. "Which twin graces me this evening?" Without turning my back to her, I slammed my palm against the door. "What do you want from me?"
"Greer," she confirmed, and I wasn't sure if her not being Molly was a relief. "And I want absolutely nothing from you, Alexa Haines."
Just behind her eyes, I see the soulless pits of a heartless monster.
Greer's here to kill me.
A sharp knife magically appeared, and Greer waved it slowly as if demonstrating what she had in store for me. "Shall we play a game?"
Think, Alexa. "Sure," I said calmly, but my shaking body betrayed me.
Engrossed by my evident trepidations, Greer surveyed me with a round, intrigued eyes. "Why are you breathing so fast?" she asked, genuinely interested. "We haven't started yet."
"Jace," I called, booting the door, too scared to leave or give her an advantage. "Jace, please—"
"Jace, please," Greer mimicked like a child, snickering in the background of my despair. "Please help, Jace. Please help me."
Tears pricked my eyes. I blinked them back, refusing to entertain her with my dismay. "Greer," I whispered, eyeing the knife. "Please don't hurt me." I'm pregnant, I thought, wrapping a protective arm around my stomach. "Liam will talk to you if—"
"Fuck Liam!" she roared, her demonic voice and evil, glowing eyes shrilling through me. "Did he tell you there were others?"
I didn't understand the question.
"Other women," she taunted, cocking her head from side to side. "You are not special, Alexa. You do know that, right?"
"You're lying," I defended him. "He'd never ruin us."
"Poor baby," she cooed, her giggling bouncing off the walls. "Naïve. Dumb." She took another step forward. "Delusional. What is it about him that makes you so retarded, Alexa?"
I ignored her insults.
"Is it daddy issues?" she asked, a twinkle of deviousness in her narrowed eyes. "Daddy fucked you up, so you craved an older man to keep you warm and snuggly at night." Smiling and sniggering, she tapped the knife on her palm. "Liam's fucking someone as we speak. But it doesn't matter, right? You'll still forgive him. Everyone forgives him." Her eyes turned upward. "I don't, though. I'm not so forgiving. I'm not the naive, dumb, delusion, developmentally disabled little girl with daddy issues. Am I?"
"No, you're just a certifiable bitch." I bolted from the door, hearing her mocking laughter escalate to a feverish velocity as I ran down the side of the building.
I'll grab a brick and put it through Jace's shop window. In a panicked motion, I collided straight into someone, but my body didn't bounce back on impact. My eyes, even after I fought so hard to keep the tears at bay, they watered on a shallow gasp...I didn't understand.
A hand clasped to the back of my head almost affectionately. "Hush little baby, don't say a word," Serena whispered in my ear. "Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird."
Numbness and pain spread through my abdomen. My hands braced to her shoulders, I slowly looked down to see a knife handle sticking out of my stomach, and devastation shattered my heart into pieces. "No," I whimpered, my knees buckling, and Serena caught me, keeping me upright.
Through blurry eyes, I see Greer walking away, whistling a sad lullaby. Leave me, I cried, hoping someone might find me in time to save me from losing the baby, but then another sharp pain ruptured my flesh, and I knew Serena wanted me to lose my child.
Each stab wound she delivered, I bled tears, knowing I failed to protect the very person who would always love me. Part of me. Part of Liam. Ripped from the protection of my body before I had the chance to hold him, to see his face for the first time and breathe how much I already love him against his soft cheek.
Mustering enough strength to reach between us, I placed a shaking hand on hers, feeling her still beneath my touch. "Help me." In an awkward tumble, our knees grazed the floor in tandem, and a raw, pained sob ripped from my chest. "Please."
Serena's mouth moved, talking, yet all I could hear was the sound of my erratic heartbeat and the thudding pulse clapping in my ears. She cupped my cheek. Her hand, wet and sticky, covered my blood. "And down will come baby," she cooed, smearing the taste of copper across my dry, parted lips. "Cradle and all."
Extracting the knife from my punctured stomach, she wiped the blade across my arm and, in a final, heartless moment, she pushed my chest, without any strength or effort, watching my body flop lifelessly against the cold floor.
I sobbed feebly, my head lolling to the side from dizziness and hearing impairment.
Someone touched my cheek, kissed me there, a voice that made me smile.
"You stopped visiting me, Kathy," I cried, my palms flat to the steel, basement door. "Why did you stop?"
My head lowered, I watched Woody the woodlouse crawling across the concrete floor. "Did I do something wrong?"
"Alexa," Kathy said, her voice soothing; I missed her so much. "It's not you."
"I don't understand when you speak like that," I complained, licking tears from my lips. "I just want to see you."
I heard an audible sigh, but Kathy didn't respond.
Splaying my fingers on the cold door, I tapped a tune.
Kathy knocked, and I smiled.
Drumming my fingers, I put my ear to the door, listening.
She copied the unprepared melody.
I rapped louder. "I hate being alone in the dark."
Her patting ceased.
Resting my head to the door, I tucked my knees up to my chest. "I get scared, Kathy."
"Alexa," she whispered, sounding closer, clearer.
I choked back another sob. "It's too cold."
"Alexa, don't panic." Her disembodied voice had my eyes opening. "Now is not the time to panic."
A constellation of stars twinkled and shined above.
Now is not the time to panic.
Groaning in excruciating pain, I rolled onto my side, then onto my front, the jagged gravel embedded in my palms and knees. My lips wobbled, teeth chattering, I dragged myself forward, silencing a pained cry.
I heard someone call my name, but I was too weak, and semi-consciousness faded the sphere of my wretchedness. When I heard footsteps advance, I slumped forward and fell into darkness.