Enzo (Jinx Tattoos Book 1) Page 5

  “Oh fuck you and your six months,” she replied with s shaky laugh.

  Her eyes looked glossy and he knew if he saw a mirror, his would be the same. If he’d been a better person, someone capable of love the way she deserved, he would’ve continued. He cursed his bitch of mother and the way she’d twisted his dark soul. She broke something inside of him, and he would never be able to fix it. He rested his forehead against hers, and tightened his hold, knowing he would never again get to experience this level of intimacy with the one woman he loved as much as he was able to.

  PRESENT

  “It doesn’t matter what I want,” Enzo said.

  “You keep telling yourself that. But you’re the only one who believes it.”

  “You don’t know—”

  “No. I’m not going to listen to this tired old song and dance again. I know you better than anyone. I don’t need to know every detail of your past for that. You are more than what happened to you, Enzo. Whatever you did to survive doesn’t matter.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “Because I see the man you are, and the man you could be if you’d only allow yourself to be.”

  Her words penetrated his armor. It stung. She’d always been the truth bringer, whether he wanted to hear it or not. “You make it sound so easy. You have no idea what I’ve gone through. It would make you sick to your stomach.”

  “Then tell me,” she demanded.

  “Why? So you can turn from me just like everyone else?”

  “When have I ever?”

  “I’m waiting for the day when you get sick of my shit,” he said.

  “No, you’re pushing me toward it. It’s what you do. I’m going to end this conversation now, before we say things neither of us can take back.” She hung up.

  He tossed his phone across the room. Spearing his fingers through his hair, he closed his eyes, feeling the rift between them begin.

  Aibhlinn

  She’d been calling to invite Enzo out to eat with her and her friend Sophia, but now he could sit and brood.

  Friends since they met freshman year of college, she and Sophia made a habit of getting together regularly and staying up-to-date with one another’s life. They were a dying breed among their family and friends—women in their mid-thirties with no ring on their finger or babies to speak of. Much like her, Sophia wasn’t opposed to a nuclear family, she was just holding out for Mr. Right.

  She steered her car down familiar streets, grateful when the red and yellow sign came into view. Coney’s were comfort food at its best. The hot dog covered in chill with a layer of freshly grated cheese was a hometown dish she craved when stress levels got too high. Putting the car into park, she killed the engine and exited her vehicle. The cold air did little to cool down the heat. Her conversation with Enzo had her boiling mad.

  When she walked inside, she instantly spotted Sophia seated at the red booth in the back. Her brown skinned friend gave a wave she quickly returned as she strode across the floor.

  Sophia had her hair a deep red now, and bone straight. You never knew what to expect with her. A metal working artist by trade, she constantly changed her look.

  “Oh, I know that expression.”

  “Which one?” Aibhlinn inquired as she slid into the booth across from her.

  “The ‘someone just pissed in your Wheaties’ glare and lip pucker,” Sophia replied, swirling her straw around in her drink.

  “Enzo.”

  “You see my face?” Sophia asked, pointing to herself. “This is me ... not surprised. You guys are like a married couple without the rings. I don’t understand why you two don’t just make it official and elope. It’d save us all some grief.”

  Aibhlinn huffed. “Try telling him that. He’s so hung up with not being worthy, he can’t see the forest for the trees. I’ve had it, Soph. I can’t keep doing this fucked up waltz with him.”

  Sophia leaned in and narrowed her gaze. “Holy shit. You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Deadly.”

  “What happened?” Sophia asked.

  Right as Aibhlinn opened her mouth, she spotted a waitress coming toward them. “I’ll tell you in a minute.”

  “Hi, ladies, I’m Tess. I’ll be your waitress for the day. Can I get you started off with something to drink?”

  “I think we actually both know what we want,” Aibhlinn answered, glancing at Sophia who nodded. “I’d like to get three Coney’s with no onion and heavy mustard, an order of French fries, and a Coke, please.”

  Tess turned to Sophia. “And you?”

  Aibhlinn shifted her attention and peered out the window, watching the cars pass by on the road. She hated arguing. It always seemed so pointless and draining. Better to be brutally truthful; get everything out and start working toward repair. Secrets and repressed anger festered, boiled, and soured what was once good.

  Ten minutes later, they had their food in front of them.

  “So dish,” Sophia said around bites of her three way. The chili, spaghetti, and cheese combo was always Sophia’s favorite go-to. They’d been through enough exams and difficult situations to know each other’s habits.

  “I was calling Enz to see if he wanted to come out to eat with us. He’s been a bit down since his birthday. Which isn’t unusual, but something’s off with him. You know me, I worry. If it was you, I’d so the same gentle nudging.”

  “Pestering you mean,” Sophia snickered.

  “Oh, shut up.” Aibhlinn peppered her Coney with hot sauce. “I’ve been giving him his space. I learned my lesson about interference years ago.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Anyway, he didn’t answer. Then he calls me back a few minutes later and it’s word vomit.” She took a large bite of her Coney and let the spicy, warm, and cheesy piece of heaven soothe her. It was impossible to remain upset when you were eating one of your favorite dishes on the entire planet. Savoring the flavor, she felt her muscles relax.

  “Better?” Sophia asked with a smirk.

  “Much. If you threw in a nice, stiff glass of whiskey with it, I’d be right as rain.”

  “You’re seriously so Irish, it’s not funny,” Sophia said.

  Aibhlinn laughed. “Well, I should hope so. I was born and raised there.”

  “Trust me, Lucky Charms, I know.”

  Aibhlinn snorted. “You’re horrible, you know that?”

  “Eh, made you laugh, didn’t it?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

  “That it did, my friend. Long story short, he starts telling me he was about to screw some tart when I called and he didn’t know what the hell he was doing anymore.”

  “And what did you say?” Sophia asked.

  “I told him to stop. I mean, if it’s not making you feel good why keep doing it? He plunged head long into this self-debilitating speech that sounded like a heartbreaking apology to me.”

  “For what?” Sophia said.

  “I’m not sure. Not being with me, or being too fucked up to be with me? There are so many under currents going on between us, it’s a wonder we don’t drown in all the words left unsaid and the emotions pent up and unexpressed.”

  “And ... what do you plan on doing about that?”

  “I’m going to lay it all down on the line. I’ve been working on a series of paintings for Mom’s show. I’m going to let him know the time for trying for more between us is now or never. If he doesn’t take the invitation, I’m going to change things. I don’t think he realizes how much more our friendship is.”

  “I’m glad to hear this. I know how you feel. I get why, and I’ve seen you two together. It’s one of those connections some people never find with another person. But you’ve been in limbo for far too long, mama.”

  “I know, but not by choice. It’s not that no man has compared, because I don’t do that when I date. It’s just that I don’t seem to fit as well with any other man I’ve come across.”

  “Preach,” Sophia said.

  She s
ighed. “If he doesn’t step up, I’ll have to treat him like an addiction I have to wean off and use in moderation.”

  “Powerful choices and words, Ms. Leahy,” Sophia warned.

  “It’s time.”

  “You know I have your back whatever you choose,” Sophia said.

  “And this is why I love you to the moon and back. What’s been going on with you?”

  “Sadly, nothing as exciting. I did get a few new pieces commissioned, and I think I’ll take a vacation after my payment. I feel ... stagnate. I’ve gotten lost in the mechanics of life. You know, paying bills, attempting to stay relatively healthy, and hitting the grind hard to go for my goals. I feel like I’ve lost something important.”

  Aibhlinn frowned. “Are you feeling uninspired, love?”

  “To say the very least. It’s like I’m floating in the ether, not truly tethered to anything. I need to rediscover my focus and have new experiences. It’s impossible to feed the place that creates when I’m not putting anything new and exciting in.”

  “Where are you thinking about going?” Sophia asked.

  “I don’t know, England maybe. Or the Emerald Isle ... but only if you agree to go with me.”

  “I just finished up my last obligation for my current contract. So, let me know and I’m game.”

  Sophia beamed. “Thank you.”

  “Are you kidding me? Showing you around my old stomping grounds would be my pleasure,” Aibhlinn said. Maybe I need to get back to my roots and disconnect, so I can reboot.

  They finished their lunch, and she headed to the place she always went to for solace: her church. She took her religion seriously. Coming from a country where people literally died for their beliefs, she could never treat it as something casual. Her father had died for what he saw as the cause. He wanted to see a united, independent Ireland.

  How one could kill with car bombs, and weapons, but attend Mass nearly daily and be so devote to Catholicism, she could never understand. The dichotomy smacked of hypocrisy and a serious lack of understanding of the scripture. But how could he have a chance for anything different when the belief had been forced down his throat from the time he was a boy?

  For her, church would always remind her of her father. He’d been a fair man; gentle tempered while around her, but stern when he needed to be. He’d taught her the beauty of their faith and equipped her to handle whatever life would throw, because if what they believed was true, she had the most powerful being in all of creation backing her. There had been times after his death, when she’d clung to that to get by.

  Parking her car, she approached the large white building with a majestic steeple and admired its beauty. Built in 1842, the church had once been the largest in the Ohio River Valley. Open twenty-four hours, it offered solace and comfort to any in need. She liked that. It wasn’t a practice common to many churches these days. She entered the church, instantly awed by the high ceilings, arches, and gilded gold paint.

  Pews stretched out like a wooden sea in the massive space. She paused to dip two fingers into the granite holy water font located just inside the doors and genuflected, kneeling in the presence of God before she continued over to the statue of Mary that stood behind the rack which houses rows of votive candles. Right now, her best friend was hurting, and there was nothing she could do to help, but she could pray.

  She lifted a stick, set fire to the end with a burning candle, and lit a new one, praying for guidance, strength, and Enzo. Sinking onto the kneeler, she bowed her head. In the silence of the building, she cleared out the anger, and hurt, to prepare to make her final stand. She had a few more weeks until the show. She would keep her distance until then. Soon, the time would come to let the chips fall where they may. It always hurt when you broke out of your comfort zone and left behind long-held dreams. But in the ruin of the old, a new and better vision was born.

  Rip the earth in two with your mind

  Seal the urge which ensues with brass wires

  I never meant you any harm

  But your tears feel warm as they fall on my forearms

  “I Gave You All” Mumford & Sons

  Chapter Four

  Enzo

  It’d been a long time since he pissed Aibhlinn off this much. It didn’t sit right with him. Two weeks and she’d been completely non-commutative. Today ... that would end. They would both be at the Clover Gallery to show their work. He ran a hand through his hair and studied the four paintings; they spoke of suffering, sorrow, and madness. Except for the last one. He stood back, trying to imagine the way he wanted them displayed.

  He’d done a rendering of an eye in shades of black and white. Long, dark lashes reached out, bending under the weight of the two tears that had begun their descent. As he studied the image, his gut clenched. He’d drawn Aibhlinn. That was her iris, and the darkened silhouette he’d placed in the center was him. He knew the shape of her eye and the beginnings of the bridge of her nose as well as his own.

  Wiping a hand over his face, he closed his eyes. There was no escape from her. She was buried inside of him too deeply and become a part of his heart. The best of who he was. I should’ve called and apologized. He knew he was wrong. It was the reason behind why he’d had an outburst that kept him silent. Somewhere along the way, he’d crossed a line he wasn’t sure he could come back from. He felt guilt and betrayal when she called. It was a first for him.

  He never felt bad for the things he did with women. Tracee got what she wanted—attention and pleasure. A headache began to form in his temples. The situation was quicksand, and he was rapidly sinking deeper in. He looked to the next painting; another eye he’d painted facing in the opposite direction, as if it peered into the opposite eye. No tears adorned the masculine eyeball, but the glimmer of the iris and the wrinkle of the skin around the eye showed the mystery man’s agony.

  In the center, he’d placed a delicate silhouette of a female with flowing manes. It was him and Aibhlinn, both longing for what they couldn’t have and hurting in the process. The last painting was a punch in the gut. The silhouette of a man in a long, dark coat walked away in the rain. The slump of his shoulders and the bowed head said everything about his emotions. He could feel that despair. Is this how Aibhlinn and I will end? No, I can change it. But at the cost of us? Or her? Would it be worth the risk?

  The past two weeks he’d been irritable and unsettled. A life of that would be torture. Still, the thought of being romantic with Aibhlinn made him break out in sweats. He could do sex, but could he do the rest? She deserved candles, moonlight, rose petals, and all the other clichéd gestures he could think of. That wasn’t him. He didn’t know how to express love in a healthy manner. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The clock was running down and the time for hard decisions had come.

  He took his paintings down and wrapped each of them in bubble wrap, and then with a thin layer of cardboard. Pleased, he began to carry them out to his car. As he pulled out of the driveway twenty-minutes later, his heart began to race.

  Would she be there setting up, too? The perpetual clouds surrounding him parted and he swore he could see the hint of the sun. Flirting with the speed limit, he pulled up to the back of Clover Gallery in record time, and put his car into park. He took a deep breath and exhaled. Showtime.

  He knocked on the back entrance and shoved his hands into his pocket. The door swung open, and he frowned at the man who answered the door.

  “Can I help you?” he asked with a thick Irish brogue.

  “I’m one of the artists being featured tonight. I was coming to set up.”

  “Ahh, well then why don’t you start unloading, and we’ll get Colleen to tell you where your set will go?”

  “Sounds good. I’ve never seen you before. You are?”

  “Ack, I’ve heard that a lot today. I’m Keir Gallagher. I just started working a few weeks ago, so that’s why we haven’t met.”

  “Nice to meet you, Keir. I’m Enzo.”

  “Ahhh, I’ve heard a lot about
your work from Colleen. I’m her new assistant.”

  “Do you know her from back home?”

  “Me personally, vaguely. She and my mum were friends.”

  “Well, welcome to the States then,” Enzo said.

  “Thank you,” Keir replied as he propped open the door.

  “Is that my other child I hear?” Colleen called.

  Enzo smiled. “Hey Colleen,” he said as the red-haired woman came into view all smiles.

  Swathed in a black dress that shimmered and flowed to the floor, she looked like a dark fairy come to life. She rushed over, and he bent down to exchange a hug. At five foot eight, she wasn’t short but she wasn’t tall either. He always figured Aibhlinn got her height from her father.

  “I’m so glad you decided to throw your hat in the ring with us. You do so well at shows.”

  “Thank you for always having me,” he replied. She’d been a real mentor to him. All the art classes he’d taken had been at her insistence, and the one-on-one lessons she’d given had been innumerable. She’d taken him under her wing right along with Aibhlinn and shared not only her talents but her heart.

  “Of course. I can’t wait to see what you’ve done.”

  His heart sank as he realized he wouldn’t see Aibhlinn until the show. There’d be no time for reconciliation. Resigned to the fact, he returned to his car and brought in the work. She’d cleared a space on the left wall. Seeing his name—Enzo Jordan—on a sign filled him with a sense of pride. He’d done this all on his own, without his brothers help, or his mentor, Noah’s.

  It felt good to branch out and have something he could claim as his. He placed the painting titled Scream first and the next two, Her and His, leaving the last, Solitude for the finale.

  “Wow, this is some beautiful work,” Colleen whispered. She glanced at him with the gleam of knowledge in her eyes. She could see her daughter in the picture. “Her is quite interesting.”

  “Is it?” he asked, trying to play it cool.

  “As much as Her sees him. I find it interesting he so obviously sees her right back. You’d think the next picture would show them together.”