INK: Fine Lines (Book 1) (22 page)

Aiden nods, watching us filter into the crowd.

Shay

McNab and I make a mad dash for his rental car. Not a reporter to be found in the garage. Thank God! McNab peels out of the parking spot then out onto the street. I’m sure he actually looked before pulling out, but I missed it. “Hey now, there’s nobody following us. You can relax.” I hold on to the ‘oh shit bar’ to steady myself. “Where are we going?”

“You’ve got to get that nightmare drawn, pronto.” His arms are locked on the steering wheel as though it will make him one with the car.

“I can’t.” I look at him quizzically.

“You have to.”

“No, no I can’t. I don’t have any art supplies and Aiden doesn’t want me to–” He cuts me off.

“Screw what Aiden says, I need you to draw it. You 
need
 to draw it. I’ll take care of the art supplies.” McNab pulls into a strip mall with a megastore as the anchor. “Go get what you need.”

“I don’t have my backpack or wallet. I don’t have anything with me.” I raise my hands and contemplate turning my non-existent pockets inside out for effect.

He expels an annoyed breath, getting out of the car. “Come on, let’s go.”

We move quickly; I’m trying not to be too picky. My supplies are typically hard to find, since most comics are done digitally now. I prefer to work old school. I think it adds charm, motion, and feeling to each panel.

I settle for a sketch pad and some pens that will make do, but I’m definitely not satisfied with my haul. But hey, it’s a means to an end, so I’m not going to complain. Besides, these drawings will likely never see the light of day.

McNab foots the bill and we’re back in the car in a matter of minutes. He pulls out onto the road and bangs a hard right into the next parking lot, a seedy hotel on Tampa Avenue. It’s the kind you think only exists in movies—and right about now I’m wishing they didn’t exist at all.

“Okay, what are we doing here?” I can’t begin to imagine why McNab pulled in here.

“I can’t have Aiden busting in on you while you’re working.” He says, putting the car in park. “I’ll be right back.”

I look at the marquee below the sign. It reads ‘Hourly Rentals.’ 
Gross.
 Where is he bringing me? I see him up at the window. This motel has no lobby. He makes his way back to the car at a trot. His hair blowing in the wind, again I notice that he’s handsome, but dismiss it because he’s just too weird. Besides, I’m ‘not his type.’

McNab gets in the car, holding the key with his fingertips like it’s a dead fish. “Here.” He motions for me to take it like it’s radioactive.

“Ew, I don’t want it.” I recoil—it just might be radioactive, or be riddled with more diseases than Taffy’s clientele.

“Get some tissue from the glove box.” He rolls his eyes. “This thing has enough psychic ick on it to render me celibate for a lifetime.” He shakes his head, leaning into me like it’s my fault and grumbles, “People are disgusting.”

McNab parks in front of room sixty-six. We sit in the car a moment, scanning the area. I’m disgusted with the movement of people outside the rooms. McNab inhales a breath in preparation for opening the motel room door.

The door opens with a loud creak. I’m hit in the face with an odiferous plethora of funk that would be a wet dream for the makers of air fresheners everywhere. I land my sleeve over my nose. None of this is good: body odor, mold, and something else. I’m sniffing, trying to determine what the third odor is. “What is that smell?”

“Don’t hurt yourself kid; it’s better if you don’t figure it out.” The look on his face says he smells it too. He may crawl out of his skin, if I don’t beat him to it.

He empties the bag of hand-picked pens onto the bed after putting down a couple of sheets of the sketch paper. He hands me the pad. “Well, we’ve got this little palace for two hours. Do you think you can make magic happen in that time?”

A smile spreads across my face at the double entendre, considering our questionable accommodations. I give my shoulders a little tilt, put a twinkle in my eye and insert my foot properly in my mouth. “I don’t need two hours to make 
magic
 happen.”

“What are you saying?” he deadpans.

“Never mind,” I dismiss him, clearing the clutter off the desk and replacing it with the sketch pad. I should know better than to try innuendo with McNab. I wonder if he’s asexual? Honestly, he does seem intelligent enough to stay away from the complications of sex.

I’ve been sketching for a solid five minutes when McNab draws out a long, “Oh, I get it.” His expression shows that he not only gets what I was saying, but he has also figured out what the other smell was. “Are you in heat or something?”

“No McNab, it was just funny.” I pause, half-lost in the drawing. “What you said, it was funny.”

I’m trying my best to sketch out the images from my nightmare. All of the technical proficiency is there. My lines are strong, but there’s just something missing from the scene. McNab looks over my shoulder, noticing my frustration. “What’s the matter kid?”

“Something isn’t right. It’s like I remember it, but for some reason I just can’t get it down like I normally can. Maybe it’s been too long.” I consider for a minute. “Usually when I have the nightmares I get up right away and ink just pours out of me onto the page.”

He paces back and forth, deep in thought. I go back to drawing. I’ve already done the initial sketches for the panels. Everything is there. What’s missing?

“Were you alone?” McNab asks studying the panels laid out on the bed.

“No. Gabriel was with me.”

“Why isn’t he here on the pages?” He picks up a panel, scrutinizing every line.

“Huh. You’re right.” I think for moment, looking at another panel. “I know he was there, but I can’t place him.”

“You keep working on it. I’m going to go pay for another two hours.” McNab leaves the room and I sit pondering the placement of every little thing. The images are all wrong. The placement doesn’t make sense. It’s like I’ve never done this before. I’m feeling very frustrated. This is important. McNab is counting on me to do this. He says it will help. But help what? Seal my death warrant if Taffy is actually dead?

Dread fills me at the thought of her dying like she did in my dream. I didn’t like her, but no one should go through that. There’s also the fact that I’m likely the first place they will come looking for the killer.

Although, being over here in Tampa is a pretty damned indisputable alibi. Somehow I’m relieved, but I have to be a little disappointed in myself for thinking this way, don’t I? That it’s okay if she’s dead since they can’t pin this one on me? I focus on the lines and try mentally re-entering the place where it happened. Remember the smells, the acoustics, the lighting.

I need to get into this scene. I shake my hands out, rattle my head and begin out loud. “Okay. It was cold, very cold. It was dark, except for the back corner where he had Taffy.” The smell of sour milk comes to mind. I try to draw Gabriel into the scene, but no matter how I draw him in, it’s all wrong. I don’t feel it.

McNab comes in shaking his head. “Is the whole world consumed by their carnal endeavors?”

“What happened?” I can’t help but smile at his frustration, but this is probably a really good story.

“Nothing really. I see this all the time in L.A., but honestly it’s disconcerting how everyone seems to be led by their reproductive organs.” He is completely disgusted; that settles it, he’s asexual. I mean, not that coming to a place like this to tickle your fancy is exactly every girl’s dream. But hey, sometimes when it’s all you’ve got, you make do.

“Well, in fairness to anyone you ran into out there, you did book us into an hourly motel,” I point out.

He expels a heavy sigh and goes to sit on the bed. After half squatting down I can see the images of naked bodies rolling around on the bed playing on his imagination, and he changes his mind, deciding that pacing would be better. He paces the floor for a good ten minutes nonstop.

“Hey, um, McNab?” I try to be gentle, but he’s driving me up the wall.

“Yeah, kid?”

“That’s not helping my concentration.” I state it as fact.

“Oh, sorry.” He stops pacing and stands behind me watching me. I think the pacing may have been better—this is just making me too nervous with him looking over my shoulder. I’ve had enough when he starts whistling the Doctor Who theme.

“Okay, I can’t do this.” I stand up, accidentally hitting him with the back of the chair. “This isn’t working.”

“All right, well. Pack up. I’ll keep these with me and take you back to your hotel.” He opens the bags for me to put the pens in. “Aiden is probably beside himself with worry that you aren’t there.”

“Nah, he just popped the question, so he’s probably got work as a stevedore on a slow boat to Zanzibar by now,” I quip.

Aiden

Here I am again wondering where the hell Shay is. Eli is going to kill me. I dial her number again—straight to voice mail. Pacing isn’t helping, but it’s all I have. Fucking McNab; I thought he would bring her straight back here. I try to call him again, same result. I really thought he was okay, I trusted him; what the fuck was I thinking. He put on a good act about not being interested in her. When I asked him about it he acted like I’d asked him to slam his dick in a car door.

I check the front desk for messages. Nothing. Jesus, Eli will be calling to check in any minute and I’ve lost her 
again
. On cue my phone rings. It’s Eli. “Shit!”

Do I answer? What do I do? I pick up right before it goes to voice mail. “Hey buddy, what’s up?”

Fuck, Eli is immediately suspicious. “Buddy?”

“Yeah, how’s it goin’, any news?” I try to sound like everything’s fine and get this call over with.

“Aiden, I’m not your buddy and what’s going on over there? Where’s Shay?” Eli isn’t falling for the ‘buddy’ routine, and of course he’s going to want to talk to her.

“Everything’s fine. I’m just trying to get along. It’s better for her if we do.” There’s some fancy dancing around the subject. “So what’s happening out there? Has the grand jury convened?”

“Not yet, and there’s nothing new on this end. I saw the mess at the convention on the news. What the hell happened?” Eli is speaking in that condescending tone again, like it’s my fault.

“One crazy got through. Not bad considering how many comics she signed today.”

“Well I would have preferred that no crazies got through.” 
Aren’t you Mr. Obvious.
 “Hey, can I talk to her? She’s not answering her phone.” Fuck, I should’ve gotten off the phone sooner.

I say the only thing I can think of. “She’s not answering her phone for 
you
. She said she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“She let you back in.” Eli’s tone was dubious. “She can’t still possibly be pissed at 
me
.”

“Oh she’s pissed all right. She said she was going to fuck me just to piss you off.” Air high-five for me, nice dig.

“Well I guess that’s probably the only way you can get her.” Eli bristles at my crudeness; he’s such a fucking prude.

“Don’t get your hopes up Eli, she always chooses me. Can’t you just be satisfied knowing that I make her happy?” Isn’t this supposed to be about Shay, not about either of us?

“Aiden, you haven’t made her happy for a long time. If that were your priority I would have backed off a long time ago. Now please put her on the phone, I need to talk with her about the case.”

I know Eli’s right about me making her happy. But I’m ready to change all of that. It’s my time to shine and show her I’ve changed. But first I need to get this douche bag off the phone and convince him everything’s okay. I calm my tone. “Seriously though, she’s resting right now. It’s been a long day.”

“Okay, well ask her to call me when she wakes up. I really do need to talk with her.” Eli asks, but he knows there’s no way I’ll have her call him.

“Will do, man. Talk to you later.” Nice work, he has no idea I’ve lost her again, her 
and
 Carl. I check my phone again. Frustrated I run my fingers through my hair, sitting on the couch. “And where the fuck is Carl?”

Shay

Aiden is visibly relieved to see me back at the hotel. He hurries across the room and wraps his arms around me. “I was so worried about you, where were you? Your phone just kept going to voice mail.”

Wriggling out of his hold I pause, trying to figure out what to say. The truth isn’t a good idea. He cuts McNab a look. “What the hell? I was counting on you.”

McNab looks at me, then Aiden. “I’m not sure what you mean, but she’s fine. Delivered directly to your door safely.” He holds out his hands toward me in presentation. “See?”

“But where 
were
 you?” He probes McNab like my mom when Aiden would bring me home late.

I open my mouth to answer when McNab cuts me off. “We had to ditch the press so we went to my hotel for a while.”

Aiden nods as though it all made sense, but eyes me suspiciously nonetheless. “Are you doing okay? No ‘problems’ other than the press?”