Chapter 14
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
I don’t get mad a lot. Being uncontrollably angry, to me, is for people who don’t know how to articulate themselves. As long as you’ve got words, there’s not a big need to holler and make a scene.
But right now, it feels like steam is coming out of my ears, and if Jolene says one more thing that angers me, my head just might explode.
She tugs her t-shirt down, her cheeks red from the confrontation. “It’s not a big deal, Dad.”
“You already said that,” I say, my teeth clenched. I stroke a hand down my jaw, suddenly feeling hot in my t-shirt and sweatpants, even though ten minutes ago when I went out to grab the paper from the walkway, I was cold as hell. I’m used to being her punching bag, but I’m not used to feeling so angry and… quite frankly, helpless. “I don’t know what to do, Jolene. You don’t talk to me, you’re always angry with me, and we don’t spend any time together. Then you go and do this, and I just… I don’t know. It’s not like you to go off and do something like this.”
“Not me?” she questions, her voice wavering as her nostrils flare. Her wide green eyes, ones I’ve looked into so many times over the years to find solace and peace, flood with tears. “And how would you know?”
My heart fractures—not at her words, but at the truth in them. “I want to! Who’s fault is it that I don’t know you, hmm? You don’t want to work my booth with me, you don’t want to ride horses with me, you don’t even want to sit at a table and eat in silence with me, Jolene! I love you, do you get me? I love you. I don’t know what's been going on with you but… all I want is to know you better.” I sink into a seat at the table, catching my head in my hands, sighing. “You should have at least asked me.”
“You would have said no,” she says quietly.
“Damn straight I would have said no, Jolene! Because you’re fourteen. You got no business getting your belly button pierced!” I get angry all over again as I hear it aloud. She went and modified her body. She doesn’t even have a driver’s permit for Christ’s sake. “It’s too soon. You’re too young.” It occurs to me then that… she is actually too young. Legally, I mean. I lift my head from my hands, narrowing my ga ze on Jolene. “Did Trace do that for you? I’ll fucking kill him,” I hiss. Trace and Ivy are the main tattoo artists and piercers at Ink Time, and if either of them would be willing to pierce without a damn consent form, it’s Trace.
“No,” Jo Jo says defensively. “Ivy did it.”
I cock a brow. “How? Ivy knows you, Jolene Turner. She’s well aware of your age. So how’d you do it? You somehow deceive them and me?” I feel bad accusing her of such a thing, but I’m hurt and hurt people… you know what they do.
She folds her arms over her chest. “I didn’t deceive Ivy.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Go get your laptop. And your phone. They’re mine.”
“What?” she cries, stomping her foot. “No! I need them for school. I need my phone to… call you for a ride after practice. No, Dad, no!” Pain vibrates in her voice, and I’ve never been the parent to take things away. I’ve never had a need for control that required me to do it. But right now, I don’t know what else to do. It feels like all I have.
I keep my voice calm and steady when I say, “Yes, Jolene, they’re mine. Go get ‘em. And don’t worry, you don’t call me for a ride hardly at all anyway. You got Miss Rivers for that.”
Her mouth parts, and she just barely shakes her head. “Oh you couldn’t wait to use that against me, could you?”
My heart is racing a million miles a minute as I get to my feet, trying my damndest to stay calm. “I’m not using it against you. You let that coach do more for you than you let me! Now get your laptop and phone. Stand here and argue with me a little longer and the list is gonna grow.”
She stomps off down the hall and into her room, making as much noise as she possibly can. When she returns, she hands me the computer and her phone, malice shining in her glare .
I take the items and she turns to hole up in her room, but before she can, I stop her with one last question. “How’d you get up there to Ink Time anyway? You walk there after school?” The tattoo and piercing shop is located right across from the diner downtown, and pretty damn far from Bluebell High. Walking there would’ve taken her… over an hour.
“I drove your car, right after I took your gun and robbed a bank, then kidnapped a baby,” she deadpans, spinning on her heel, nothing but a flash of dark hair and anger. A moment later, her door slams closed, and a minute after that, I’m backing out of the driveway, rage in my veins as I drive to Ink Time.
Someone’s got some fucking explaining to do.
I haven’t been in Ink Time since the grand opening, and when I storm into the place, I almost don’t recognize it. I storm past the little blonde at the reception, even though she tries to stop me with a weak “excuse me, mister.”
Moving past the first two stations, I spot Trace and Ivy, huddled over a client, a huge circular light hovering above them. Aware that someone has stepped into their space, Trace lifts his head, turning off his tattoo machine as his eyes narrow.
“Jake, how ya doin’?”
“Not so good, Trace. Not so good, because you pierced my fourteen year old daughter’s belly button without her father’s consent.” The man strewn over the vinyl chair, his chest exposed for a huge Cookie Monster portrait, tips his head back to eye me. I don’t like making a scene, especially not in front of a man whose chest is covered in Sesame Street characters because what the fuck is that about? But what Trace did is absolutely unacceptable.
Ivy’s machine turns off and she rolls back from her client, her eyes darting to Trace before coming to mine. “Your girlfriend signed for her,” Ivy says, with no emotion in her tone. In fact, the longer she stares at me, the more I think she’s annoyed I showed up here.
Trace’s brows rumple. “Your girlfriend? Jake Turner, who are you datin’?” Trace asks, getting to his feet with a wide smile. He clamps his hand on my shoulder and says, “I wouldn’t pierce or ink anyone without a consent form. Neither would my old lady.”
I look past him to Ivy, who is still glaring, her winged eyeliner intimidating me. “Who is my alleged girlfriend?”
She rolls back to her client and restarts her tattoo machine. “Riley Rivers.” She gets to work on Cookie Monster’s crumbs, not looking up at me when she adds, “And Trace didn’t do it. I pierced Jo Jo, and I pierced your girlfriend, too.”
I probably owe both of them an apology, but knowing that Jolene had every opportunity to tell me that it was Riley that brought her here and didn’t just adds another layer of pain to this mess.
She protected Riley while she thought nothing of me.
She cares profoundly about her if she’s doing that.
I get in my truck, angry, frustrated, a little proud, and full of all sorts of feelings I don’t know what to do with. My head aches as I grip the steering wheel, hitting the gas out onto the road. With my free hand, I call Dean, and thank god he answers right away.
“Jake, how you doin’?”
“Where does Riley Rivers live?” I ask, my boot sinking into the gas pedal, making my truck roar forward, tearing up the road .
“Why?” he asks.
“Give me her address, McAllister!” I shout, knowing full well he doesn’t deserve it but goddamn it, she took my daughter to get something pierced. She didn’t ask me if it was okay. She didn’t call to verify. She didn’t text to apologize.
“156 Poplar Street,” he answers quickly, but quietly. “You okay?”
“I’ll call you later.” I end the call, and turn my truck around without looking, earning me some angry honks and hollers.
All I can hear now is my heart racing in my chest as I speed to Riley’s house.