Permanent Ink (Something to Celebrate #1) (21 page)

Chapter Twenty

Later the following week, Blair sat across the trailer’s folding table from Sheila, who opened her bag and whipped out three folders, each neatly labeled.

“Here you are, Blair!” She proudly put them into Blair’s hands.

“Thanks. Uh, what are these?”

“I took your spreadsheet and broke it down into tasks,” Sheila announced. “Barb is handling decorating materials. Paula is organizing people. And I am working on all the logistics of the parade route.”

Blair flipped open the Barb’s folder and her heart sank. The information was perfectly organized. Logical, neat as a pin, and easy to accomplish.

Damn.

She peeked at the other two folders—they were just as nice. Nodding, she stacked them together and raised her head, smiling to hide her surprise.

“Great work! I think someone is taking a page from my book.” She wagged a finger at Sheila.

Sheila swatted the finger away, but she blushed. “Nonsense. If I wasn’t organized, I wouldn’t be able to do my job at city hall.”

“Good for you. That’s…admirable,” Blair said. She paused, then spoke slowly, as if she was handing out sage advice. “But don’t forget to let the volunteers have some fun. It’s perfectly okay if a few details slip into the cracks. The parade is going to be hard work, of course, but it has to be a good time, too.”

Sheila gave her a strange look. “Let details slip? Then why should I bother to do my job as parade-committee chair at all?”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant.” Blair stood up, searching for a better way to make her point sound honest. “I just meant…don’t turn into me. I’m kind of a control freak.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Sheila scooped up the folders.

Blair gave her a hesitant nod. “It can be.”

“Uh-uh. I don’t want to hear that.” Sheila got up and walked to the door. “You back me up, now. Get that whip ready to crack because we are going to
win
this parade contest.”

“That’s the spirit!” Blair’s voice was strangely high-pitched, and she cleared her throat. “All for one and one for all, right?”

Sheila laughed. “I get it. Because Barb, Paula, and I are the three musketeers. Don’t worry, Blair. We will band together and get this done.”

With a wave, she walked outside and shut the door.

Great.

Blair hadn’t counted on Sheila being a control freak, too. How had she not
known
that? And now, how was she supposed to circumvent that?

The only thing she
could
do at this point was to cut the number of floats down. Reduce the chance of the whole thing becoming actually impressive. And punch up the idea of individuality…encourage the volunteers to go wild with ideas. It might work. If Sheila and her eagle eyes didn’t catch on and put a stop to it. There was no guarantee of that, though. Blair was a
lot
more comfortable when she had guarantees.

Slowly, she lowered herself back into the folding chair and stared down at her list. It wasn’t going to give her any answers. It was just a reminder of all the things she hadn’t accomplished, like talk to Ben. She flipped the list over and folded her hands on top of it even as Ben’s smile invaded her mind.

For days he’d been caught in the middle of a stream of clients—so many that he hadn’t even had time to see her at night. What was she supposed to do? Go to his apartment one morning and wake him up after a few hours of sleep and tell him that she’d screwed his festival over intentionally? And then what would happen?

She’d lose him.

As she sat there, her breaths growing short, her phone rang and she snatched it up without looking at the display.

“Blair Whitaker,” she said crisply.

“Where
are
you?” Kaley asked in an annoyed tone.

“What do you mean?” Blair couldn’t keep the nervousness out of her voice.

“School ended at eleven fifty. It’s a teacher workday before finals start. A half day? Didn’t you remember?”

“Sorry, no. Can’t you get a ride with Cassidy?”

Kaley was silent for a moment and when she spoke, her voice was a teary whisper. “No.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.” Blair held back a sigh, wondering what fresh hell awaited now. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m having a really bad day. What’s wrong with
you
?” Kaley demanded.

“Life. Stand out front of the school, okay? I don’t want to have to drive around the building like a creepy stalker looking for you. We played that game too many times last week.”

“That’s going to be a problem,” Kaley said, her voice smaller. “I’m…in the principal’s office.”

Blair paused, her hand on the doorknob. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!”

It was always nothing. “Mmm,” Blair responded. “Give me five minutes.” She clicked off the phone and threw it into her bag.

A short time later, she parked the van in front of the school and took a couple of deep, calming breaths. Whatever Kaley had gotten herself into, it was already done, and it was up to Blair to deal with it, since Lola was still in Hawaii. Is this what life would be like once Lola got married? Someone had to look out for Kaley, because the girl couldn’t go live at Sunnyside with Bill and Lola.

Blair froze, her fingers on the door handle. She was really doing this, planning to stay in Celebration. No—she was doing everything she could to cement herself in Celebration. Part of that was going to be taking care of Kaley. It was life. And, Blair had come to realize, life here with her family was a hell of a lot better than being alone in the city. Kaley was family—and family meant making sacrifices.

Swinging her bag over her shoulder, Blair jogged up the steps of the school and down a short corridor to Peter Collins’s office. She knocked on the half-open door.

“Please come in, Ms. Whitaker,” he said. “Have a seat.”

Blair walked through the doorway and glanced at Kaley, who sat ramrod straight in a chair in front of the desk. Her eyes slid to Blair and then back to her lap.

“How are you today, Ms. Whitaker?” Peter gave her a nervous smile.

“I’m fine, Principal Collins. Hope you are, too.” Blair sat down.

“Yes, yes,” he answered. “So, Blai—I mean, Ms. Whitaker. It seems that your…well, that Kaley…has broken some rules here at Celebration High.”

Blair forced a smile. “My cousin. And I gathered that. What happened?”

Peter turned toward Kaley, his expression changing to that of a very pissed-off principal. “Why don’t you explain?”

Kaley let out a shuddering sigh. “It’s all Cassidy’s fault,” she began.

Peter leaned forward, his face turning red. “No. Tell Blair why
you
are suspended for a week.”

“I thought she was Ms. Whitaker,” Kaley mumbled, twisting a frayed cuff of her hoodie.

A surge of anger brought Blair to her feet. “What’s wrong with you? Start talking.
Now
.”

Kaley glanced up, tears in her eyes. “I screwed up, okay? Last week, Brandon and I got back together. Everything was going so great, and then I found out that the whole time, he’s been sneaking around with Cassidy behind my back.” Her voice broke. “You should have seen the pictures on her phone!”

“I doubt I’d want to,” Blair said drily, sitting back down. “What were you doing with her phone?”

“She left it in the library during study hall. I was picking it up for her to return it and…I peeked. Like, seriously? I wish I hadn’t.”

Peter leaned forward, leaning his elbows on the desk. “Phones are not allowed in study hall. They’re supposed to be in your lockers, on silent, all day long.” He raised an eyebrow at Blair. “We tried to ban them outright, but
parents
insisted the kids have them. I don’t get it.”

Blair held her hands out. “I would support a cell-phone ban in schools.”

“She would,” Kaley said in a small voice.

Clearing his throat, Peter pointed at her. “Continue, please.”

Kaley sighed. “After I saw those photos I got really mad. Like, I was furious. So I went to the cafeteria. It was empty because we didn’t have lunch today. I went inside the walk-in refrigerator and pulled out a big bin of yesterday’s nasty, gloppy mac and cheese and I dumped it in Cassidy’s locker.”

Blair sucked in a breath. “Oh, God.”

Peter shook his head. “Why did you even know her locker combination, young lady?”

“We all know each other’s. This school is about as big as a postage stamp.” Kaley shrugged.

“I see.” Peter drummed his fingers on top of his desk. “Here’s where the problem lies, Ms. Whitaker. Aside from the juvenile nature of Kaley’s actions, she ruined seven textbooks, a cheerleader uniform, and seventy perfectly good servings of macaroni. All of those items are school property, and defacing school property is an automatic suspension for a week.”

Kaley gasped. “How am I going to take my finals? Won’t I flunk my classes? I may have problems, but I get good grades. I’m never in trouble at
school
.”

Peter gave her a grim smile. “But now you
are
in trouble. Your finals will be held back, and you’ll take them in summer school. That way, you can start your senior year on time in the fall.”

“Summer school?” But that’s for delinquents and kids who flunk stuff. Oh my God.” She covered her face with her hands.

Blair glanced at Peter. “I’ll spend extra time with her this week. She needs to talk about what’s going on with her.”

“I agree.” Peter shot a worried look at Kaley. “I have a feeling she will be fine, but we encourage our students on suspension to use their time wisely.”

Kaley dropped her hands from her face. It was pale. “I will. I’m really sorry, Mr. Collins.”

He nodded. “Apology accepted.”

Blair’s lips twisted into a smile. Poor Kaley. In the grand scheme of things, what she’d done would be funny—ten years from now. But it wasn’t as if she’d planned to commit an offense. It had been done out of pure anger. It hadn’t been calculated, like what Blair was doing to the parade contest. She was planning to wreck the parade to win Ben’s love.

It was worth it—to her. But the people in Celebration? The accounting girls? Oh, God. They’d be so disappointed.

“Blair,” Kaley said.

“Yes?” Blair glanced at her.

“Can we go?”

Clearing her throat, Blair faced her cousin. “So Kaley. You’ve just bought yourself a weeklong position as the busiest volunteer the town of Celebration has ever seen.” She smiled and held up her fingers to count. “You’ll clean the trailer. You’ll set up booths for the craft fair. You’ll work your haughty butt off until you’re exhausted, because Lola is not in town and I’m way too busy to deal with you lounging around the house, pouting.”

Kaley didn’t answer. She stared, and after a moment, nodded.

Standing up, Blair reached over the desk to shake Peter’s hand. “Thanks. I assure you, she will stay busy.”

“Good.” Peter sat back down, smoothing his tie. A second later, a cell phone near his elbow buzzed, the vibration sending it tumbling off a stack of books onto the desk blotter. He jumped, knocking the books onto the floor and his bulging eyes scanned the cluttered desktop. “My phone,” he muttered.

Blair spotted it near a collection of empty coffee cups and she reached for it. “Here it is.”

But when she saw the display on the screen, her hand froze in midair. Starlie Darling. What the hell? The name was displayed above a photo of Starling, blowing a kiss. Drawing her hand back, Blair kept her expression neutral and glanced at Kaley. “Ready to go?”

Unfortunately, Kaley was staring at the phone, too, her mouth open. “Isn’t that—”

“Time to go,” Blair said sharply. She grabbed her cousin’s sleeve and dragged her out of the principal’s office.

Chapter Twenty-One

Early on Saturday morning, Ben pressed two fingers to his puffy eyes and laid back on his tattoo chair. He was up. He’d had a cup of coffee. And now he had a free fifteen minutes to sleep before he went to help Blair start setting up for the craft fair. She’d told him not to, since he’d been so busy lately, but it was the first opportunity he’d have in days to be with her. Talk to her. Yawning, he moved his hips to get more comfortable and let his hands slide to his chest.

Two seconds later, the bell above the door to his studio jangled. Damn. Why hadn’t he locked the door? With a groan, he sat up and swung his legs over the side. “I’m not open until noon. So if you don’t mind—”

“Hey,” Blair said. With a hesitant smile, she walked forward and stood by the counter.

Ben stared at her, his ability to breathe suddenly gone. She looked fresh and beautiful, her hair tumbling over her shoulders. She wore a clingy T-shirt and another one of those swirly skirts. Her feet were in flip-flops, and her toenails were painted a delicate pink. He looked back up to her face and noted the concern there.

“Hi, Firefly,” he said. It came out a croak.

“You look really tired,” she commented.

He nodded. “I feel like shit. We had people in and out of my studio yesterday like it was a turnstile at an amusement park.”

“We?” She glanced toward his office.

“Yeah, Starling is back,” he said tiredly. “I love that I’m getting so many clients but…I’m kind of in hell. Good thing she’s not here right now.”

“Have you told her about Ink Fest at the senior center?”

He raised his eyebrows. “It’s none of her business where it takes place. Her only responsibility is to show up and be herself. Which is not always pleasant.” He paused. “So, no. I haven’t told her. I don’t need any more headaches right now.”

Blair stared at him. “Don’t you think you should—”

“You
do
realize you’re a pot about to call the kettle black, don’t you?” He stared back. “You promised not to say anything to her. Remember?”

“I haven’t. I won’t.” A few seconds later, Blair was next to him on the chair, her arms wrapped around his middle. “Ben, listen to me. You’ll get through all the crap with Starling. And there’s an upside to being tired from hard work. It’s proof of success. When I’m tired, I feel good about myself.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You think that being exhausted is…fun?”

“Of course.” She ran a hand down his forearm. “Look at you. You’re making a name for yourself, and because of that, Ink Fest will be amazing, no matter where it’s held. You’ll be a star, and I’ll help get you there by planning the hell out of that event.” She kissed his cheek, her lips lingering.

He breathed in the sweet, warm scent of her hair and exhausted as he was, he wanted her, but her words made him pause. “So…Ink Fest is worth your time because I’m on my way to stardom?”

“No!” She laughed. “Why would you think that?” She squeezed his thigh.

He shrugged.

“You really must be tired, Ben. Why are you even awake right now?”

“I’m going to help you set up for the craft fair,” he muttered, staring down at where her hand slid higher up his thigh. Maybe she hadn’t meant anything by her comments. Maybe she was just being encouraging. But she certainly seemed a lot more enthusiastic about Ink Fest now that his studio was doing well.

“No need. Kaley is taking care of everything.”

“Yeah?” He was fixated on her hand, willing it to go higher. It did, and he sucked in a breath. “Why is that?”

“She got suspended for dumping a vat of macaroni and cheese into her best friend’s locker, so now she’s my slave for a week,” Blair said calmly.

“Damn.” He curled his palm on top of her hand and stilled it. “You’re getting into dangerous territory there.”

“Good.” She smiled up at him, arching her back a little.

“Blair…” he warned. “Don’t think I won’t throw you over my shoulder and carry you up those steps to my bed. And I won’t let you go for hours. You’ll be missing in action at your own Blair Fair.”

Her eyes widened in mock horror, and he laughed, but couldn’t resist leaning down and placing a lingering kiss on her parted lips. “Mmm.” With a wistful sigh, he stood up and groaned. “Not sure I’d be able to ravish you, anyway. At least not right now…my back’s killing me. I can’t do another day like yesterday ever again.”

“What happened?”

“Starling happened.” He rolled his shoulders and groaned. “She scheduled appointments for both of us back to back all the way to closing. It’s not like I’m afraid of hard work, but it’s hard to do
good
work without any breaks. And to top it off, she was pulling attitude the whole time. Acting paranoid. Almost as if…”

“As if what?”

He thought for a moment. “As if she were trying to outrun something. Distract herself. There’s something going on with her and it’s big, but I doubt it’s good. I’m kind of worried about her, actually.”

Blair looked puzzled. “Really? I thought you didn’t like her.”

“I’m not sure I do.” He reached for the mug of coffee on the counter. It was empty. Folding his arms, he leaned against the counter. “But I respect her, despite all the attitude she puts on. She’s turned my studio around—given me a list of repeat clients, and a lot of them are local. In fact, if I could have predicted this would happen, I doubt I would have taken on Ink Fest.”

“You didn’t
want
the festival?” Blair stood up, frowning.

He looked down at the concrete floor and then back up at her. “No. I didn’t.”

“But I thought…” She shook her head. “I thought you were trying to make a name for yourself.”

“I am. I mean, all I want is to have respect and a steady business. I don’t want a reputation as some kind of rock-star artist. Ink Fest doesn’t depend on me being famous. I don’t want to be famous.” He looked at her alarmed expression. “Surely you get that about me by now, don’t you?”

Didn’t she?

She started to pace. “Yes. I know who you are, Ben. I wasn’t sure how far you intended to take your talent. That’s all.”

What was that supposed to mean—that he wasn’t driven? Wasn’t dedicated? Shaking his head, he lifted the mug from the counter. “I’m going to get more coffee. You want some?”

Blair checked her watch. “Thanks, but I’m good. Um, are you coming out to the commons in a bit? I’ve got a surprise for you.”

He stopped in the office doorway and glanced at her. “You do?”

“It’s about Ink Fest, so I’m not sure how excited you’ll be when you see it, but…” She lifted a shoulder as if she was about to say something else, but she ducked her head. “See you in twenty minutes?”

At her shy smile, his irritation began to melt away. She was only being Blair, and her drive to succeed was a lot different than his. He was slow and steady going, and she was full tilt, list in hand—like a sexy redheaded warrior.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like the girl from
Brave
?”

Blair’s smile dropped away and she narrowed her eyes, walking across the room to glare at him. “You did
not
just say that.”

“What’s wrong with that?” He held his coffee mug like a shield. “She’s adorable. Fierce.”

“I’m not a Disney princess. Is that how you think of me?”

Grinning, Ben took a step forward and touched her cheek. “Well, you
are
the Easter queen. But princess?” He tilted her chin up and kissed her softly. “Yeah. That, too. My princess.”

She sucked in a breath and swayed toward him, steadying her hand on his biceps. “I’ll agree to that. Can I see you later?”

His mind flicked through the appointment list for the day. And night. “Late, later?”

“How late?” She nuzzled his jaw, and he almost dropped the mug.

“Like, midnight?”

Blair groaned into the side of his neck. “Kaley has a curfew.”

“I’m going to have to use some of my newfound wealth to hire that girl a nanny.” He chuckled.

Blair didn’t. She tensed against him. “She’s sixteen freaking years old. I shouldn’t have to watch her like a toddler.”

“We’ll find a way to be together, Firefly.” He stroked a hand down her back. “Now go kick ass at the craft fair. Can’t wait to see what my surprise is.”

She looked up, her aqua eyes wary. “You sure?”

“Of course. If you’re excited about Ink Fest, then so am I. You’ve worked really hard to make me happy. I want to do the same.”

Her eyes lit up, but then a shadow passed through them before she leaned her head against his shoulder. “I can think of ways.”

“Go. Before I really
do
drag you up to my bed like a caveman.”

…

Letting out a long breath, Blair walked to the sink in the trailer kitchen and dumped out her half-f coffee mug, wincing as her stomach turned. She knew better than to drink coffee in the afternoon, especially when the temperature was climbing. Ugh. Would this day ever be over? For that matter, the entire week was dragging and it was only half over.

It seemed as if she’d been spinning in circles, getting nothing accomplished, for hours. So far all of her attempts to waylay Sheila the wonder machine had failed. The woman was like a drill sergeant, and Paula and Barb her loyal recruits. Which, ironically, was exactly what Blair had hoped for at the start of this whole mess. Correction—the parade prep
wasn’t
a mess, and that was the problem. Everything was exactly on schedule, from the upcoming float-building party to the full roster of volunteers. It made her nervous—very nervous. And the more jangled her nerves became, the less clearly she could think.

Blair needed a fresh day, a fresh pair of eyes. She needed a volunteer who was a loose cannon. Somebody who would ride right over Sheila like a tank. And that would be…

Colleen Callahan.

Blair smiled for the first time in hours. Perfect. All she had to do was call the woman up and…

Her phone dinged with a text and as Blair pulled it out of her pocket, her smile turned to open mouthed horror. It was from Ivy, who was headed toward the trailer “to talk.”

Shit!

Blair stuffed the phone back into her pocket and cleared her throat.

“Hey, Kaley?”

“Yeah?” Kaley appeared in the small hallway, barefooted. She held a dust rag in her hands.

“I need to run outside for a sec to talk to Ivy.”

Kaley’s eyes went wide. “Uh-oh. Didn’t I say I was going to be telling you I told you so? I’ve been saying it for four days—since the moment you spilled about that whole problem with Ink Fest.”

Blair raised her arms in a helpless shrug and then opened the door, her heart hammering as she watched her boss approach. Ivy wore a sky-blue suit and sunglasses, but despite her bright appearance, she didn’t appear to be the least bit amused.

“Hey, Blair.”

Blair trotted down the steps. “Hey. How’s it going?”

She lifted her sunglasses and cocked her head to the side. “I wanted you to know Ben’s permit had been officially revoked.”

“Does he know?” Blair’s eyes went wide.

“Obviously not, since you are supposed to be the one to tell him.” Ivy had a snap in her voice and Blair sat down on the steps, her head in her hands.

“I know,” she said. “But after I told him about Ink Fest moving to Sunnyside, he wasn’t happy.” She glanced up at Ivy. “A few days ago, I stepped all over his pride. I didn’t mean to. It’s just—”

“He’s not going to dump you over a little thing like this, Blair. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and I’m about ninety-nine percent sure that he’s completely in love with you.”

Blair raised her head. “But it’s that one percent, you see. It’s that one percent that scares the shit out of me.” She stared at the cars lining the far side of the alley—all of them belonging to customers, lined up, waiting to see him and Starling. “And see that? He barely has a moment to breathe these days. We’ve hardly had a chance to talk.”

Ivy interrupted. She sat down next to Blair, her voice softening. “Look, I know how you feel. I really do. When Marcus and I realized we had feelings for each other, we were already in such deep shit that I thought we’d never figure it out. We did.”

Blair nodded.

But I’m not you. Ben is definitely not Marcus.

Kaley poked her head outside of the trailer. “Hi there, Ivy. Um, nice day, huh?”

Ivy smiled at her.

Kaley let out a long breath and widened her eyes. “Hey, Blair? I need your help. Like—right now. It’s…well, I just need you to look at something.”

Blair knew that her cousin was trying to save her from an uncomfortable conversation. Not doing a very subtle job of it, but the sentiment was nice. She stood up. “Thanks, Ivy. I’ll take care of that right away.”

“I hope so.” Ivy settled her sunglasses back in place and reached in her pocket for a slip of paper. “Make sure he gets this, okay?” She handed a copy of the permit to Blair. It was stamped with the word “revoked.” With an encouraging smile, she walked away.

Blair wasted no time going back inside, and she tossed the paper onto the counter.

As she let her head fall back on her shoulders, Kaley walked into the kitchen.

Tossing the dust rag onto the computer desk, Kaley lifted her mass of hair, which had started to curl in the humidity, and piled it on top of her head with a clip. “All right, what’s next?”

Blair didn’t answer. She just stared out the open window.

Ben.

Somehow she’d messed things up…again. After she’d left him Saturday, she spent the morning nodding and smiling, wandering around the two dozen booths occupied by proud locals and visiting vendors, chatting with people and admiring crocheted baby blankets and hand-blown glass. She’d sampled homemade jelly and bought a cow-themed paper towel holder as a housewarming gift for Lola, who was still on her trip.

And she’d averted disaster when she’d spotted one of the vendors—a wood sculptor—lifting a series of small erotic statues out of a packing box and suggested to him that at a family friendly event, his American-eagles-in-a-nest carvings would sell a lot better. He’d grudgingly repacked the X-rated items and with sigh of relief, she’d gone in search of Ben.