She's Got It Bad (8 page)

Suddenly all the fear and pain and regret and self-hate rose up inside her. She clenched her hands and closed her eyes and thumped her fists down onto her work surface.

“Get out! Get out of here before I call the goddamn cops,” she said.

LIAM STARED at Zoe’s tense back. Her head was bowed, her fists pressed into the counter in front of her. She looked like she was ready to either explode or fall apart.

“Zoe,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She shuddered as though she couldn’t stand to have him touch her, and he slid his hand free.

“I want you out of here and I never want to see you again, all right?” she said.

She still hadn’t turned around. He couldn’t see her face and he was almost glad he couldn’t.

“Tell me what’s going on, Zoe,” he said.

“Why should I tell you anything? You gave up the right to be my friend, to talk to me, to know me, when you pissed off in the middle of the night without even saying goodbye.”

He hated this. She was quivering with emotion she was wound so tight. He wanted to take her in his arms and soothe her. He wanted to kiss her, calm her. Do whatever it took to take away the raw hurt in her voice and the tense defensiveness in her body.

“You were fifteen years old, Zoe. And I was bad news. I did it for your own good,” he said.

She swore.

“I want you out of here,” she said again. “Just go.”

He stared at her back for a long moment, then finally reached for his coat.

“What do I owe you for the tattoo?” he asked.

She gave a sharp, empty laugh that sounded dangerously close to tears. He didn’t know what else to do or say, so he exited to the front of the parlor and left three hundred dollars on the counter, all the cash he had on him. He unbolted the door and crossed to his car, waiting until he saw Zoe lock the front and turn off the lights before he drove away.

Never in his life had he felt so helpless. Even watching his mother die had been less painful than this. Then he’d known there was nothing he could do. With Zoe his gut told him he could help her, or that he at least had to try, but he had no clue where to start. The only interaction she seemed prepared to tolerate with him was sex, and he refused to go there again with her. He had nothing to offer her, not long-term. He’d only wind up hurting her more than he already had.

He couldn’t face the thought of going home. Instead, he went to the workshop and got stuck into his in-tray.

Vinnie had left the forms for the biker build-off comp on his desk and he filled them out and wrote a check to cover the entry fee. He tried to concentrate on the work insurance policies his admin manager had asked him to review, but his mind kept reverting to thoughts of Zoe.

There was no way he could leave things the way they were.

He tossed the insurance paperwork to one side and drew his computer keyboard toward himself.

First he tried the white pages, but there were more than fifty listings for T. Ford in Melbourne.

He flicked to a new screen. He was no computer guru, but he knew how to do a Google search.

He typed in Tom’s name, along with Melbourne, Australia. He trawled through three pages before he found a hit that looked interesting—a listing for Tom Ford, accountant, talking at a recent small-business conference. Tom had always been good at math, and his father had been an accountant.

It was easy work to find the Web site for the Melbourne firm Tom worked for, then a contact number for Tom himself. Liam checked the time. It was after eight. No doubt Tom would have gone home for the evening, but at least if he had voice mail, Liam would know if he was onto the right Tom Ford or not.

To his surprise, someone picked up on the second ring.

“I told you I’d be home by nine. Quit bugging me or I’ll never get this done,” Tom said, light amusement in his tone.

“Tom, it’s Liam Masters calling. I’m not sure if you remember—”

“Damn. Liam. My God. Of course I remember you.” Tom sounded stunned but not unhappy to hear from him.

Liam’s shoulders dropped as he let go of an unspoken fear: that Tom would still be angry with him after all these years.

“I’ve thought about you a lot, wondered where you wound up,” Tom said.

“Me, too,” Liam said.

“Wow. This is a real blast from the past,” Tom said. “I don’t suppose you want to catch up? I mean, is that why you’re calling?”

Liam stood and stared out through the safety-glass window of his office into the workshop.

“I did want to talk to you, actually. About Zoe,” he said.

“Right.” Liam didn’t miss the wariness in the other man’s tone.

“I ran into her the other day,” Liam said.

Tom gave a hard laugh. “Yeah? Where was that, at the tattoo parlor or one of the thrash clubs?”

He sounded resigned and sad.

Liam decided to take a punt. “What are you doing now? Can I come talk to you?” he asked.

Tom hesitated for a beat. “Sure. Let me call home and tell Jane I’ll be later than I expected.”

“You’re married?”

“Yep. Three kids and a dog, too. How about you?”

“None of the above.”

Tom gave him his work address and told him the best place to find parking.

“Call me from the street when you get here and I’ll buzz you in.”

Liam drove into the city and along St. Kilda Road, his gut churning all the way. He was nervous about seeing Tom. There had been a handful of people in Liam’s life who stood out as good, decent people, and Tom was one of them. So were his parents and his sister. And Liam had repaid them by falling in love with Zoe and almost taking her innocence, then bailing on them in the middle of the night with little or no explanation.

Tom’s firm had offices in a modern metal and glass tower. The foyer was marble, the elevator chrome and plush carpet. Tom was waiting for him when the doors opened on the twentieth floor.

They shook hands, each taking stock of the other. Tom’s hair was darker than the sandy brown Liam remembered, and he’d bulked up from the skinny seventeen-year-old he’d once been.

There were lines around his eyes and mouth, and his dress sense had improved. He looked good.

Happy, healthy, prosperous.

“Man, look at you. You’re huge,” Tom said, eyeing Liam’s shoulders.

“Working with metal will do that,” Liam said.

Tom led him to a nicely furnished corner office. Built-ins filled with serious-looking books lined one wall, while the other wall was given over to a series of bright, attention-grabbing paintings, stylized streetscapes of Melbourne in vibrant colors. Tom gestured him toward the couch and took an armchair opposite him.

“Can I get you a drink? There’s beer, some wine.”

“I’m good, thanks,” Liam said.

Tom smoothed his hands down the thighs of his suit pants then took a deep breath.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, so I’m just going to say it. I’m sorry I hit you that night. I was way out of line, and I want you to know that I regretted it the moment I went inside.

Even more when I woke up the next morning and you were gone and I realized you were serious about leaving because of Zoe,” Tom said.

Liam shifted in his chair. “You did the right thing,” he said.

“No, I didn’t. You were family, man. I let you down. It used to kill me, thinking about what happened to you.”

There was a question in Tom’s eyes. Liam leaned forward so he could ease a business card from his back pocket. He handed it over.

“Stop giving yourself a hard time. I did okay,” he said. “Got about thirty people working for me now. Last year’s turnover was around ten mill.”

Tom stared at the card, an incredulous smile on his face.

“No way. My boss bought one of your custom choppers last year. I should have put the pieces together. Masters Mechanics. No wonder Jane tells me I’m hopeless all the time.”

“You look like you’re doing pretty well yourself,” Liam said.

Tom shrugged. “Just your ordinary everyday wage slave. I keep talking about going out on my own, but I don’t know if I want the hassle. Life’s pretty good at the moment. I get to spend plenty of time with the kids. It’s not so bad.”

They both nodded and an awkward silence fell, the unspoken issue of Zoe sitting between them now that they’d addressed their own history.

“How was she?” Tom asked. “You didn’t say on the phone where you saw her.”

Liam wasn’t about to tell him about the painting. There were some things a brother didn’t need to know.

“I walked into the tattoo parlor, and there she was,” he said. It was a version of the truth, after all. “She wasn’t very pleased to see me.”

“She took your leaving hard. Really hard.”

Liam leaned forward, hands clasped loosely together, elbows on his thighs.

“Tell me what happened,” he said.

Tom scrubbed his face with his hands and leaned back in his chair.

“Things kind of fell apart for us all after you left. Zoe had some trouble at school. Mom and Dad got divorced. Everything changed.”

Liam stared at the other man. “There’s more,” he said.

Tom nodded. “But it’s Zoe’s business, not mine. She…had some bad luck. And it changed everything for her. Made her angry. Mom and Dad were stressed-out over it, they started fighting, blaming each other. When they got divorced, I think Zoe saw it as just one more thing she’d screwed up. She ran away from home when she was seventeen. Same age as you, actually.”

Liam wasn’t surprised. Zoe felt like someone who had been out on her own, fighting her own battles for a long time.

“You know about Sugar Cane and Vixen?” Liam asked.

“Yeah, I know about it.”

“I want to help her,” Liam said, laying his cards on the table. “I want to try to make things right.”

“Why?”

It was a legitimate question. Only the truth would do.

“Because Zoe is special, and I hurt her.”

Tom shook his head. “It was a long time ago.”

“Still. I care about her. I want her to be happy.”

Tom eyed him for a long moment. “You’re not married, you said?” he asked.

Liam could see where his mind was going. He shook his head.

Tom broke eye contact. “I just thought…There was obviously something pretty intense between the two of you once upon a time.”

Liam flashed to those wild, out-of-control moments in the change room, then to the almost overwhelming temptation she’d offered him tonight.

“Believe me, I can’t give Zoe what she needs,” he said.

Tom stood and crossed to a minibar and grabbed two beers. He tossed one to Liam, and they each took a mouthful in silence.

“I don’t know what to tell you. We’ve tried everything. She resents any interference. Won’t even talk about the band thing. Hasn’t seen Mom or Dad for over a year. I think the only reason Jane and I still see her is because of the kids. She’s a great aunty.”

Tom gestured to the walls.

“She’s bloody talented, and she wastes it in that shitty tattoo parlor. She lives in a tiny studio apartment, won’t let me buy her a new car. It drives me nuts if I think about it too much.”

Liam stood to study the paintings. He’d noticed them the moment he walked in, and a part of his brain had itched with recognition. Zoe’s work. He studied the smooth lines, the colors, the distinctive style.

“She did this with an airbrush, yeah?”

“Yeah. But she can work with oils, watercolors. She even did some etchings a few years ago.

You should see them. Like I said, a bloody waste.”

Liam nodded, an idea forming. “Okay. Good.”

Tom glanced at him. “What’s good about it?”

“I’ve got a friend who owns an art gallery. She’d love to see Zoe’s work.”

Tom shook his head. “She won’t accept your help.”

Liam smiled. “She will if I make her an offer she can’t refuse.”

Tom looked uncertain, but Liam could see he wanted to believe. Liam’s smile faded as he remembered Zoe’s words to him today, her utter repudiation of him and everything he had to offer.

He hoped he wasn’t holding out false hope. As he’d learned over the past few days, Zoe Ford was one tough nut to crack.

But he had to try.

4

ZOE CAME HOME to a phone message from her brother.

“Zoe, hey. I just wanted to see how you’re doing. Jane and I thought it would be nice to catch up on the weekend. We were thinking a barbecue on Sunday if you were up for it. Anyway, give me a call and we’ll work something out. We miss you.”

It made her belly burn to hear how uncertain and wary her brother sounded. There was a time when they’d been the best of friends. Now, all they seemed to do was fight because Tom wanted to give her things she didn’t want or need or because Tom wanted to try to save her from herself.

The last time she’d seen her brother they’d fought over the band. Or, more specifically, Vixen.

Sugar Cane had been generating some buzz on the Internet and someone had posted some amateur footage on YouTube. She could still remember the concern in Tom’s voice when he’d asked why she felt the need to flaunt herself so blatantly. He didn’t understand, and she didn’t try to explain it to him. She’d been too busy being angry at him for judging her.

The reminder that she was now estranged from the one member of her family who she’d managed to maintain some kind of a relationship with was enough to make her reach for the bourbon bottle again.

The phone message felt like a shitty cherry on top of a very shitty day. She had to do something to stop herself from thinking. And yet despite her determination to forget, if onlys circled her mind like vultures as she drank. She’d learned a long time ago that regrets didn’t change a thing but sometimes it was impossible to silence the Greek chorus in her head.

One thing was very clear in her mind, however. She would not be talking to Liam Masters again.

That was one decision she was firm on, an absolute no-brainer. He had already caused enough turmoil in her life. She didn’t care what he did or said, she was not going to engage with him.

And she certainly wasn’t going to allow herself to be attracted to him. Which was another good reason for not seeing him again. He’d been her first love as well as her first lust, the man who’d awakened her to sexual desire and need. The first time he’d kissed her, touched her breasts, slid his hands between her legs was burned into her memory, still fresh after all these years. Added to the fact that he’d grown into a ruggedly sexy man—Well, it was best to steer clear of him. She might not be the sharpest pencil in the box, but she knew when she was in a no-win situation.