Ink Illusions

INK ILLUSIONS

… Travis lay atop Aaron, propped on his elbows and one knee. His erection pressed heavy and full against Aaron’s stomach, and Aaron threw back his head on the mattress, groaning in delight. He imagined that big cock sliding between his lips. Or sinking into his ass, making him cry out with the overwhelming pleasure-pain of being stretched and filled. His mouth went dry with lust. “You’re hung like a horse.” Travis paused with his mouth on Aaron’s neck. “What? Really?” “Get a condom,” Aaron said. “Get inside me now!” Travis lunged for the bedside table, and the mattress rolled with his motion. He retrieved a fistful of foil-wrapped condoms, which spilled across the blanket. He groped for one as Aaron pulled his T-shirt up around his neck. A phantasmagoric tattoo blazed on Travis’s back, a huge tree centered over his spine with its roots at his hips and its topmost branches fanning across his broad shoulders. No leaves ornamented the tree, throwing the focus on the vigorous three-dimensional quality of its bark and branches. “What is this?” Aaron asked, amazed. “Yggdrasil,” Travis said. “The World Tree.” The tree looked intricate and alive, inked in shades of gray and black. Norse heathen images appeared between its branches—wolves, warriors, mountains, ravens, and ships—in subtle increases in color, mostly steel blue with glints of green. “Aaron,” Travis said his name for the first time, pleading. “Look at it later.” “Take off the T-shirt,” Aaron said. “I want you naked…”

ALSO BY VAL KOVALIN Call And Answer Wicked Cool

INK ILLUSIONS BY VAL KOVALIN

AMBER Q UILL PRESS, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com

INK ILLUSIONS AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2011 by Val Kovalin ISBN 978-1-61124-101-3 Cover Art © 2011 Trace Edward Zaber

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

To John, and the Mistick Krewe of Comus

INK ILLUSIONS

CHAPTER 1 Aaron’s birthday fell on the last day of the year. Ever since he’d gotten his first fake ID, he’d made a point of celebrating it in the snazziest gay bars of Las Vegas with the biggest group of friends he could assemble. Then December 31, 2004 rolled around to find him turning thirty in Houston, Texas, where he now lived. It happened to be Friday night and New Year’s Eve. Even just three years ago, he never would have seen himself living with a woman and her child. He never would have dreamed he’d spend his thirtieth birthday at home, eating popcorn and watching movies with them. The next day, Belinda’s seventh birthday, the temperature hit a chilly fifty degrees and it rained, which happened a lot in Houston. Or it seemed like a lot, compared to Vegas. Aaron woke, feeling 1

INK ILLUSIONS

like 2005 might be a groundbreaking year, the year he left his twenties behind and became a thirty-year-old. It simmered in the back of his mind as he and Rosemary supervised sixty of Belinda’s closest friends for a pizza birthday party. The kids swarmed between house and backyard, not caring about the bad weather. Pizza, ice cream, and cake? A weird combination for the stomach. Maybe they shouldn’t have let Belinda decide the menu. Aaron’s suspicions were confirmed when he found a guest throwing up in the rhododendrons. The kid rolled his eyes in a piteous sidelong glance at Aaron. “Don’t worry about it.” Aaron passed his garden hose to the boy. “Rinse and spit.” He walked him inside and got him seated at the kitchen table. Rosemary fussed over the kid, smoothing back his hair. Obviously, he liked that. His cheeks got pinker, and he sat up straighter. Rosemary gave him a can of ginger ale, which he sipped as he basked in the glow of her attention. And no wonder. Rosemary was gorgeous with her curvy figure and bright hair, swept into a casual up-do. Meanwhile, Aaron offered to call the kid’s mother, but the little guy shook his head, determined to party on. “I think they’re enjoying themselves,” Aaron whispered to Rosemary. “Great,” she said. “I’m so ready for this to be over.” “God, yes. Is it eight o’clock yet?” Aaron headed back into the drizzle to check on the birthday girl. He found Belinda in the garage, showing two girls and three boys the boxing equipment Aaron had taught her to use. Most evenings, he held the large cylindrical punching bag for Belinda to whack with her gloved fists. Everyone should know how to fight. Even as a kid, Aaron took crap from no one and he didn’t see why 2

INK ILLUSIONS

Belinda should either. He watched from a discreet distance as the boys competed for Belinda’s attention. The little pishers! The entire world seemed to be pairing off like Noah’s ark, even young kids. One boy tapped the teardrop-shaped speed bag, flinching as it rebounded off the underside of its platform. The other two wrestled, stumbling into the big punching bag, which creaked on its chain, hung from the rafters. The two girls compared their fingernail polish and looked bored. Thank God Belinda hadn’t yet learned their attitude. At eight, the moms retrieved their offspring. Aaron and Rosemary straightened the house and yard, and his ears rang in the silence that followed hours of kiddie chaos. Rosemary’s hair worked free of her up-do and she tucked a strand behind her ear. Belinda raced around the kitchen, crazed with excitement. “Give me a word!” She remembered every Yiddish word Aaron extracted from memories of his Grandma Sophie. First, she loved repeating the robust Germanic syllables. Second, she wanted the word’s meaning like a gift under the wrapping. If she could guess it in context, she enjoyed that most of all. He handed Belinda a small bag loaded with crumpled paper plates. “You want to schlep this to the garbage bin?” “Schlep, schlep, schlep!” She wedged the paper plates deeper into the trash. When nine o’clock rolled around, Rosemary coaxed Belinda through a bath, got her to brush her teeth, and tucked her into bed for a bedtime story. Of course, Belinda refused to go to sleep. If Aaron’s parents could see him now, they’d probably be gloating because he’d been the same kind of high-energy kid. Finally, Rosemary came out to start the dishwasher and passed him a book 3

INK ILLUSIONS

of fairy tales. “Maybe she’ll want you to read to her,” she said with a trace of resentment. He’d become a gay suburban dad. Aaron marveled at the thought as he performed Belinda’s pre-sleep rituals. He closed her closet door so the darkness beyond wouldn’t look too scary and draped a sheet over the large pen where her two guinea pigs slept. He sat on the edge of her bed, showing her the book of fairy tales, and she made a face at its sappy-looking cover. Instead, she requested her favorite story, a detailed description of his bar mitzvah. As always, he told it for maximum comedy, like he would with a group of co-workers, and Belinda giggled, especially when he imitated his squeaky voice at age thirteen. “Today I am a man.” Sometimes, Aaron found it disturbing that he understood Belinda better than Rosemary did. Tonight, it grieved him to know his and Rosemary’s paths would diverge when either met the right guy. Aaron wouldn’t be there to soothe the tensions between mother and daughter when Rosemary treated Belinda more like a dress-up doll than a regular kid, and Belinda had a screaming meltdown. What might happen to Belinda in adolescence without him to protect her? “I want mine to be the same,” Belinda said. “Your what?” He pulled the coverlet under her chin. “My bar mitzvah.” Okay, that went beyond flattering. Aaron didn’t know whether to laugh or swallow against a lump in his throat. It might break his heart to lose her. “We can do better than that for you.” “Really?” Belinda eyed him. “You can be a Mardi Gras princess,” he said. “You were born 4

INK ILLUSIONS

in Galveston, just like your mom and dad. Born-on-the-island. Very special.” “Can we go to Mardi Gras this year?” she asked. “All my friends are going.” Aaron didn’t know what to say. Rosemary had a good reason for not taking Belinda back to Galveston, ever. He shouldn’t have brought it up. Maybe they could take her to New Orleans instead. Before he could say anything, the phone trilled in the living room. He kissed Belinda on the forehead, turned off the light, and went out, pulling her bedroom door shut. It turned out to be Rosemary’s cell phone. From the hallway, Aaron watched her twisting a lock of hair as she listened to someone talk. He ducked into the bathroom, splashed water on his face, and checked his reflection. Still trim and dark with no gray hair yet. Aaron never wasted time reliving his past, but his thirtieth birthday had hit harder than anticipated. His earliest memory popped up to ambush him. He was four years old at Passover Seder as Grandma Sophie led him from the crowded dining room table to the vacant kitchen. She held his fat little fist in her lotion-scented fingers. Her collection of Bakelite bangles, which he adored, clattered on her narrow wrist. She boosted him up to a kitchen chair, got an ashtray, and lit a cigarette, while he wondered if he might be in trouble. He’d just announced he didn’t want to get married and have kids, and everyone except his grandmother had laughed. Grandma Sophie tugged up her sleeve, baring her inner forearm to show him the number tattooed there. “You know about this?” Years later, he would learn the tattoo came from Auschwitz. At that moment, he couldn’t think of anything to say, and that never 5

INK ILLUSIONS

happened. Even at that age, he’d loved shouting out the right answer to a question. “The Nazis tried to wipe us out,” Grandma Sophie said. “And that is why it’s important for you to get married and have children.” She drew on her cigarette as Aaron watched in speechless guilt. At four years old, he already sensed the approach of his inescapable Jewish wedding. If she were alive today, what would Grandma Sophie think of his life? Aaron scrubbed a towel over his face and joined Rosemary in the living room. She flicked a nervous glance at him as she spoke into the phone. “Okay.” Her voice tightened. “That’s… great. Thanks for telling me. ’Bye.” He gave her a questioning look. She clicked the phone shut and tossed it to the sofa. “That was Veronica Jakobsen, Travis’s mom.” Rosemary shared his unwillingness to discuss the past, but Aaron knew the name of Belinda’s father. “Travis just got out of prison. He’s with them in Galveston.” *

*

*

Travis sat with his drawing portfolio in a booth at the Seawall Boulevard Restaurant, which he often saw as his parents’ second child, demanding their non-stop attention. Most days, as now, his mother sat in this same booth, keeping an eye on the dining room. Not that Veronica micro-managed the staff. Instead, she passed out menus, talked to diners, refilled drinks, and counseled the employees on their dating dilemmas. As Mardi Gras neared, she took countless calls, preparing for the celebration. Now, she shot him an apologetic glance past her 6

INK ILLUSIONS

cell phone as she tried to wrap up a conversation about parade routes and parking. No problem. Prison had taught him how to wait. Travis studied the tattoo on her freckled forearm, which she’d asked him to design the week of his release. A steel-blue ægishjálmr, it looked beautiful. Norse pagans called the snowflake design the Helm of Awe. Not for the first time, he wondered what a kid had to do to feel cool and rebellious when both his parents were tattooed pagans. Veronica closed her phone and nodded at his portfolio. “All done for Mardi Gras?” He passed it to her. “Everything’s ready for the banners, so I’m leaving it with you. I need to drive to Houston to inspect the shop.” “We’re going to miss you,” Veronica said. “I think you’d be safer in Galveston.” She seemed to have forgotten it had been a bar fight in Galveston that had landed him in prison. Her brow crinkled. “What else is in Houston?” “What do you mean?” “Besides your new tattoo shop. Are you trying to find Rosemary and Belinda?” “Mama, don’t you want to see your grandchild again?” “Well, of course, but Rosemary sent me that one letter. She has a man, someone with money, who’s providing for her and Belinda. We can’t disrupt their lives. We need to be careful.” Travis tried to fend off a painful fantasy of Rosemary’s new man teaching Belinda how to tie her shoes or to multiply fractions or make a sandwich for her school lunch. He had only himself to blame. He shifted his weight, forcing his attention out the window at the tourists passing by on the sidewalk. Beyond them lay the seawall, the beach, and the surf rolling in under an endless blue 7

INK ILLUSIONS

sky. “Don’t stay angry that I told her you got out of prison,” Veronica said. “She would’ve known anyway. I tried to explain she has nothing to fear from you and I put things in the best possible light.” “She may not believe you.” Veronica held his gaze. “Do not break the law. Don’t stalk Rosemary or approach her.” “I need to see my daughter.” He rose to one knee in the booth and leaned to give his mother a kiss. She offered her cheek, which carried the faint scent of soap. Travis nodded to the waitress, who came to take Veronica’s lunch order. He left the restaurant. *

*

*

Rosemary said nothing more about the Jakobsens, and she and Aaron went about their lives—work, social stuff, family stuff. He went to the gym four nights a week to spar with other amateurs who found boxing fun. He sensed trouble brewing on the horizon. One night after Belinda went to sleep, Aaron and Rosemary sat in the kitchen, drinking coffee. She showed him what she’d received in her post office box, an envelope postmarked Galveston. It contained an elaborate invitation, all heavy linen paper and gleaming gold foil. Aaron read aloud, “The Mystick Krewe of Earthly Delights requests the honor of your company at the Maskers Dance on Shrove Tuesday evening, February 8th, 2005. Theme: Tattoos— Ink Illusions. Costume de rigueur.” He gave a low whistle. “Wow. What’s a mystick krewe?” 8

INK ILLUSIONS

“It’s a parade organization.” Rosemary shrugged. “They do the Mardi Gras festivities.” “I always thought the city of Galveston paid for that. Is it a Catholic pre-Lent thing?” “More like an exclusive, Anglo-Saxon, Protestant thing. A secret society.” “Oh? Where I’m quizzed about my ancestry at the door?” Her lips twitched. “The Krewe of Earthly Delights isn’t like that. It’s a fun krewe.” “What a relief.” “It’s the Jakobsens’ krewe. They always invite me. Their way of keeping in touch.” “You never told me.” Rosemary’s smile faded. “I haven’t gone since Travis went to prison, but I have an idea. You could go.” “Me? Let’s go together.” “No. Travis knows me, and he’s probably holding a grudge because I didn’t visit him in prison. I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to hide from him, but you could go and meet him. Get him talking about his plans.” Rosemary swallowed hard. “Find out if he’s going to look for me and Belinda.” “How do you know he’ll even be there?” “Look at the invitation.” Rosemary showed it to him. “The theme is tattoos. Ink Illusions. All through high school, Travis planned to open a tattoo shop called Ink Illusions. He’ll be there.” Aaron eyed her. “And for some reason you think I can get him talking about his future?” “You can get anyone talking about anything. The important thing is he won’t know who you are. Please, Aaron. For me. For Belinda.” 9

INK ILLUSIONS

Aaron felt a thrill of excitement. Frankly, he didn’t want to miss anything put on by an organization called the Mystick Krewe of Earthly Delights. Driving all the way to Galveston would be a small price to pay. “But they invited you, not me. Aren’t these things very exclusive?” “This isn’t the Krewe of Comus ball.” At his blank look, Rosemary swatted him on the arm. “Learn some southern history, why don’t you? They’re the oldest krewe in New Orleans. We’re talking from before the Civil War. And you know what? In 1991, they stopped parading because the city passed an antidiscrimination ordinance, saying they had to show their membership list to get a parade permit.” “So they weren’t letting just anybody in.” Aaron gave a grudging snort of amusement. “And they weren’t going to take any crap from the government about it either.” “You like that, don’t you?” Smiling, Rosemary handed him the invitation. “Look. There’s no admit card. You can just show up and get in. If anybody asks who you know in the krewe, mention some doctor’s name from UTMB.” University of Texas Medical Branch at Galveston happened to be one of Aaron’s sales accounts. He also owned a hand-tailored tuxedo, which he didn’t get to wear nearly often enough. “I have something for you.” Rosemary hurried off to her bedroom. She returned with something dark that glittered in her cupped hands, a domino mask trimmed in jet beads. Aaron held it to the light, admiring its intricate design. “This is gorgeous,” he said. “Okay, I’ll do it for you and Belinda, but I need to know more about Travis. He’s twenty-seven, right? Of course. You graduated high school together. You got a photo? I should know what he looks like.” 10

INK ILLUSIONS

Rosemary went back to her bedroom. Aaron could hear her rustling past all the clothes hanging in her closet. She retrieved a shoebox patterned in her favorite colors, pink and black. Years of storage had worn its corners soft. She removed its lid and Aaron glimpsed loose photos and papers. “Here’s the only photo I kept.” She handed it over. Travis Jakobsen had ice-blue eyes, pupils flared as if the camera had caught him by surprise. His strong cheekbones gave slight width to his narrow face and his mouth pressed shut in a surly, aloof line. Like Belinda, he was so blond he had blond eyebrows. He made an unsettling, hard-edged first impression that Aaron struggled not to find attractive. Aaron hadn’t gone out with a man in weeks, not even for drinks and conversation, and he couldn’t help staring at Travis’s photo. His self-consciousness increased as Rosemary scanned his face for a reaction. “It’s okay if you think he’s hot,” she said. “I know you’re trying to hide it.” “He looks like he belongs in the schutzstaffel,” Aaron said. “Is he always this pissed off?” “He doesn’t like having his picture taken.” She stuffed the photo back in the shoebox. “Believe it or not, that was the nicest one. I’m saving it for Belinda.” “What did he go to prison for?” “Aggravated assault with a deadly weapon.” Her gaze dropped. “We were in a bar in Galveston. Some guy started hitting on me while Travis was getting us drinks. This guy was really aggressive. He scared me, and Travis just… just… saw this in my face when he came back, and he beat the living daylights out of the guy.” “Is Travis unstable? A drug addict? Did he ever hit you or threaten you?” 11

INK ILLUSIONS

“Of course not! He has some … masculinity issues.” “Masculinity issues?” At this point, Aaron’s curiosity knew no bounds. “You know, trying to protect his family. Trying to stand up to the assholes of the world. He has a temper, but he never did anything to Belinda or me.” Rosemary flushed. “I should elaborate on the masculinity issues. He cheated on me once. I caught him sucking off a guy at a party.” Lust flooded through Aaron. He tried to rein in his imagination. “Travis is gay?” “Or bi, or whatever,” Rosemary said. “We never talked about it.” “But you caught him…” “Yeah, that pissed me off. Okay, I was devastated. He said he was too drunk to know what he was doing, but he knew enough to make the other guy wear a condom. Oh, well, it’s been years, and I don’t hold it against Travis.” “But you’re hiding from him, right?” Aaron said. “You’ve covered your tracks. You get your mail through a post office box.” “He loves Belinda.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m afraid he might kidnap her and disappear. His parents would probably help him. They’re kind of eccentric. They’d tell themselves Belinda needed to live with her daddy, and I’d never see her again.” “You and Travis should hire a lawyer. I’d be glad to pay for it. We can work out a fair custody agreem—” “No!” Rosemary said. “I mean, thanks, but no. If I make a move in that direction, he’ll probably panic. He might really kidnap Belinda. What does he have to lose? He’s an ex-con and he’s gay or bi or whatever. Doesn’t exactly make him the preferred parent in a child-custody battle. Not in the state of Texas.” 12

INK ILLUSIONS

“Okay,” Aaron said. “I’ll go to Galveston and check him out.”

13

INK ILLUSIONS

CHAPTER 2 On the night of the Maskers Dance, Aaron reached Galveston in a misty rain that drifted in sheets off the Gulf of Mexico. He’d left Houston in plenty of time, but hadn’t realized until he passed League City that his GPS navigation device had gone missing. Belinda loved high-tech toys and had probably done something with it. He shook his head in exasperated amusement as he drove over the causeway connecting mainland Texas to Galveston Island. The width of the island, from Harborside Drive to Seawall Boulevard, turned out to be only about three miles. Aaron estimated the distance as he drove the length of 33rd Street to get his bearings. He had arrived too late to witness the parade floats on their route through the city. He went east to the historic Strand district, now closed for the Mardi Gras festivities, and parked on a 14

INK ILLUSIONS

side street. The rain died away. Meanwhile, a horde waited to get inside the Strand. Aaron joined the group, and no one gave his tuxedo and domino mask a second glance. Looking casual in their street clothes, the others could have been citizens lining up at the Motor Vehicles Department, but for the handfuls of plastic beads draped around their necks. Even the men wore so many necklaces that the beads stacked up in layers like a breastplate. The metallic greens, purples, and golds gleamed like swarms of beetles beneath the streetlights. Aaron had never seen a more good-natured crowd. The night shimmered with the promise of magic and pleasure, and the revelers drank it in with amused anticipation. They even gave a round of applause to a tall, rugged drag queen who strolled past and did a slow twirl, showing off his gown. The Krewe of Earthly Delights invitation got Aaron into the Strand district without paying an entrance fee. The foot traffic swept him to one of the main streets where the overall celebration looked to be in full swing. A solid mob clogged the street, swaying between the storefronts on either side. The architecture looked Victorian with a touch of Wild West, reminding him of the older sections of Denver. Above the shops were loft apartments where men and women in eveningwear stepped out on the long balconies, bearing armloads of beaded loops. They leaned over the curved wrought-iron railings and tossed their offerings into the crowd’s outstretched hands. Stray beads covered the pavement like a river. They rolled underfoot, slippery as ice, as Aaron edged along, shielding his head from flying necklaces. He started laughing in delight, almost unable to hear himself past everyone’s joyful screaming. He’d 15

INK ILLUSIONS

never been to a Mardi Gras celebration, and the surrealism exceeded his expectations. It added to the dreamlike experience to find the curbs in the Strand so high he had to take a giant step up to the sidewalk. A quiet side street led him to the Tremont House Hotel. At the ballroom, the carved wooden doors stood open. Two men sat at a table that looked like a polished wood antique. A white lace runner stretched its length, anchored by a crystal vase stuffed with white carnations, and a guest book awaited his signature. Aaron approached in his tuxedo, wearing Rosemary’s glittery domino mask. The doorkeepers, who looked like father and son, sipped from tumblers of scotch. The silver-bearded man wore a tuxedo even finer than Aaron’s. The man in his mid-twenties had striking bluegreen eyes, the color of daiquiri ice. He wore a robe striped in gold-green over purple and a jester’s cap, complete with bells. “Sir,” said Tuxedo Guy with grave courtesy. He stood and took Aaron by the shoulders, drawing him close for a hearty smacking kiss on both cheeks. Stunned, Aaron wondered if he was supposed to reciprocate. “Happy Mardi Gras.” “Would you care to sign the guest book?” Jester asked. He spun the leather-bound volume around on the tabletop and pointed to an empty line. Aaron wrote his name with flourish, while Tuxedo Guy plucked a white carnation from the crystal vase. Jester trimmed the stem with an antique cigar cutter and handed the flower to Aaron with a bold wink. Feeling as if he were in a James Bond movie, Aaron placed the blossom in the buttonhole of his lapel, nodded to the doorkeepers, and strolled inside the ballroom. The Maskers Dance of the Mystick Krewe of Earthly Delights 16

INK ILLUSIONS

spread out before him. Aaron stepped to the wall so he could take it in. He felt he’d gone back in time. Across the ballroom, a jazz ensemble played swing music, and a bright river of couples in formal wear or costumes flowed past, packing the dance floor. The music came from the Benny Goodman era, and most of the dancers, like Aaron, couldn’t have been born earlier than 1975. The women wore gowns with matching satin opera-length gloves and elaborate masks trimmed with feathers and ribbons. Some men wore black formalwear like Aaron, but more wore costumes with full-face masks and hats. Aaron knew what Travis would be wearing. According to Rosemary, the Jakobsens rode their krewe’s parade float each Mardi Gras through Galveston, and they wore the same costumes like priestly vestments. Aaron went to the bar to order a martini, which seemed like the best drink to prolong the nineteen-forties fantasy. Sipping his drink, he noticed the vertical banners hanging from the high ceiling, wafting in the breeze of the dancers’ passage. Silkscreened on the diaphanous fabric were bold images that looked like tattoo designs. Ink Illusions, he thought. They rippled and floated on air currents as if borne aloft by the festive music. Had Travis Jakobsen done all this? Aaron spotted Norselooking knot work on one banner and a sea serpent on another. A third featured a Viking dragonhead ship, cresting a wave. Aaron imagined getting one of those designs inked on his body. Did it hurt? Almost everyone had a tattoo these days, especially people his age and younger, but he’d never wanted to get one. Maybe he even had a small phobia about getting tattooed. The Torah stated, You 17

INK ILLUSIONS

shall not make gashes in your flesh for the dead, or incise any marks on yourselves. The Jewish prohibition against tattoos happened to be a religious law he had no intention of breaking. Aaron gave the crowd a quick scan, not spotting anyone who looked like Travis. No problem. He intended to enjoy himself before getting down to Rosemary’s mission. It so happened he knew how to dance to swing music, thanks to his mother, who had long ago forced him to take lessons as part of her plan to match him someday with a nice Jewish girl. At the time, he’d complained no one danced like that anymore, but now it appeared Mom really did know best. He spent the next three hours dancing with several women when he wasn’t wandering around, staring at the costumes, joining conversations, and introducing himself to people. It came as a shock to check his wristwatch and see the hour approached midnight. He needed to look for Travis before Shrove Tuesday turned into Ash Wednesday. Aaron spotted the three Jakobsens right away by their sea green robes and full-face masks. They seemed to be popular, judging from the stream of revelers who greeted them. He pictured them sailing past the crowds of Galveston on their krewe’s float, tossing out plastic beads, doubloons, and moon pies. Travis’s hat resembled a platter festooned with blue and bronze ruffles. He handed it to a barman, who stashed it out of the way. An orange headscarf covered Travis’s hair. His mask formed a chalk-white oval, its plump peach lips outlined in ultramarine. Metallic gold curlicues ornamented its cheeks and chin. Blue lace covered the upper part of the mask, including the slanting cutouts for the eyes. Aaron recognized Travis by his ice-blue eyes, which Belinda had inherited. 18

INK ILLUSIONS

Aaron didn’t mind joining those who paid their respects to the Jakobsens, but he didn’t want to be trapped in a conversation with Travis’s parents while Travis slipped away. He returned to the bar for a lite beer, something he wouldn’t mind spilling, and resorted to a cheesy trick he remembered from watching sex-comedy movies. He blundered into the Jakobsens’ circle, splashing beer on himself and Travis. “Oh, hey, I’m sorry!” Aaron steadied himself with a hand on Travis’s arm. The two older Jakobsens swiveled their masked faces toward Aaron. Travis pushed his mask on top of his head, baring his intense chiseled features. His orange headscarf slid down around his neck, revealing cropped ash-blond hair. He stood about six feet tall, two inches taller than Aaron, and had a heavier build, lean and dense with muscle. “It’s okay,” Travis said. “Happens all the time on Mardi Gras. Let’s get cleaned up.” He hooked his arm around Aaron, drawing them shoulder-toshoulder like buddies, and they walked to the far end of the bar where the noise level diminished. The cuffs of his robe slid aside, revealing a glimpse of tattoo sleeves. “For beer stains, try detergent first, then vinegar,” Travis said. He asked the barman for a dishcloth, which he used to dab at Aaron’s clothes. He scrubbed at the front of his robe, deepening the sea-green cloth to emerald. Glancing up, Travis gave a hesitant smile that lit his eyes and deepened, transforming his face from the sullen photograph Aaron remembered. Wow, Aaron thought, unsettled by the need to touch him. He offered his hand. “Aaron Goldhirsch.” “Travis Jakobsen.” 19

INK ILLUSIONS

They shook hands, and the pleasure of that simple contact lifted the hairs across Aaron’s body. He felt a delayed twinge of paranoia as he remembered Rosemary’s privacy issues. Maybe he should have given his first name only. What if Travis dug around on the Internet, found where he lived in Houston, and discovered Rosemary and Belinda? Aaron had taken precautions to hide his address, but secrecy didn’t come naturally to him. He was proud to be a Goldhirsch and his profession had trained him to spread his name around. Travis lifted his free hand, capturing Aaron’s in a double-grip. “You did that on purpose.” Aaron’s adrenaline spiked. “What?” “Spilling the beer.” On instinct, Aaron leaned closer to keep his elbow from hyperextending in case he had to fight. He didn’t want Travis to get him in an arm lock and slam him face down on the bar. Travis clasped his hand in a steady grip, not squeezing too hard. Travis said in an even tone, “I always watch people who get into my space.” Which made sense, Aaron thought, imagining Travis in prison. “I saw what you did. You’re not drunk, and you’re not a clumsy guy. I can tell by how you move. So I’d like to know why you did it.” “Okay, you got me.” Aaron’s mind went blank, but his mouth kept talking. “I wanted to meet the best-looking guy here.” Travis’s eyes widened in astonished hope. Impassive a moment ago, he now showed his heart in his eyes like a fifteen-year-old. Obviously, he considered, at least briefly, the possibility Aaron had engineered the whole encounter for a gay hook-up. He choked out a laugh. “Is that so?” He released Aaron’s hand and tapped the 20

INK ILLUSIONS

edge of his raised mask. “How could you see me under that?” Aaron’s hands got sweaty as he lied. “I’ve seen you at your parents’ restaurant.” “No kidding?” Travis darted a flustered glance at Aaron as color rose in his face. “What makes you think I—” He wrung the dishcloth in his big square hands. “You always come on to guys like this?” “I don’t hide what I am,” Aaron said. At least that happened to be true. Travis’s gaze lingered on Aaron’s mouth. “What makes you think I’d be interested?” “I don’t see you getting upset,” Aaron said. “Are you interested?” What was he thinking? Things were moving too fast. Whenever his mouth took over, it always got him into trouble. What would Rosemary say? His ability to think shorted out as Travis’s hand closed over his wrist. “Sit with me.” Travis guided Aaron to the bar. He signaled for two more drinks. “Let’s get to know each other. You can start by taking off that mask.” *

*

*

Travis sat, watching Aaron Goldhirsch take off the domino mask and slip it into his jacket pocket. Who was this guy? Travis couldn’t stop staring at him, and he couldn’t figure out why. Aaron wasn’t movie star gorgeous. Attractive in an ordinary way, he had ivory skin, an oval face, and a strong chin. A small pimple lurked near his full lips. He wore his dark hair combed straight back. A wavy strand fell forward, gleaming walnut-brown, but without the red tinge found in the 21

INK ILLUSIONS

hardwood. Under straight brows, his deep-set brown eyes held a confident glint. Smart and tough, Travis thought, listening to his intuition. Suddenly, he knew the essence of this man—fearless. “I hope I’m not a disappointment.” Aaron gave him a flirtatious smile. Travis couldn’t speak, but shook his head. Every man he’d met in prison, no matter how menacing, had reeked of cowardice. Everyone he remembered from high school had been a seething mess of insecurities. Even his own parents had their worries, and he himself struggled with fear every day. He rarely met anyone like Aaron, who projected an easy self-confidence with enough humor not to seem too arrogant. It made Travis flush hot all over from wanting him. “So what do you do?” Travis managed to ask. “I’m in pharmaceutical sales.” Aaron handed him a business card. Travis’s heart leaped as he pocketed it. Holy gods! Now he had Aaron’s phone number, which he’d been far too shy to ask for. He fumbled for his wallet, drawing out one of his own cards. A tasteful blue font spelled out the words, Ink Illusions. “I’m in the tattoo business.” Aaron scanned the card. “In Houston.” “Yeah. Somebody was selling their shop, and I had a chance to take over.” “You did all this.” Aaron glanced up at the hanging banners. “Yeah, and I designed these.” Travis pushed up the fabric of his robe and leaned his forearms on the bar for Aaron to admire. Immediately, his pride dissolved into worry. A clean-cut guy like Aaron might find his tattooed sleeves thuggish. “What’s this?” Aaron brushed his thumb over the gray-green 22

INK ILLUSIONS

scales that looped and crawled over Travis’s left forearm. Travis got an instant hard-on at the brief contact. “Jörmungandr.” His voice sounded hoarse. “The world serpent.” “This?” Aaron took the back of Travis’s hand in his warm grip and turned it over, touching the interlocking triangles above Travis’s exposed wrist. “The valknut.” Sweating, Travis couldn’t meet Aaron’s gaze. “It represents the heavens, middle earth, and the underworld along the axis of the World Tree.” “And this?” Aaron traced the Icelandic stave that blazed on Travis’s inner forearm. “The vegvísir. It guides you through bad weather.” Travis closed his eyes, afraid he might start breathing too hard with desire. “Hey, if you ever want a tattoo, I’ll give you a good discount.” “I’ll keep it in mind,” Aaron said. Uh-oh. He’d said something wrong. Travis sensed it in the distance opening between them. He blurted, “So you’re not here with anybody tonight?” Gods, what a stupid question. He attempted a seductive smile. “Just scoping out the possible competition.” “I’m single,” Aaron said. “And you? No boyfriend? No exwife?” “No. I’ve never been married.” “No kids?” Aaron asked. Travis didn’t want to lie, but he dreaded such a sad topic. “Actually, I have a seven-year-old, but she’s with her mama, and I haven’t seen them in years.” From his wallet, he took the only photo he had of Belinda and passed it to Aaron. “That’s her.” 23

INK ILLUSIONS

Aaron sat still, staring at the photo. Travis knew it wouldn’t look special to a stranger. It showed just another six-month-old baby in a pink one-piece romper with matching booties, but he loved her cranky squint and fists curled like a fighter’s. “All babies look alike, don’t they?” he said to let Aaron off the hook. “She’s a cute kid,” Aaron said. Gods, they needed to get off this topic. “That’s my Belinda.” “Pretty name.” “I picked it out for her. Her mama wanted to call her Misty. I kid you not.” Travis shook his head, still appalled. “No daughter of mine is going through life with a stripper’s name.” Aaron gave a startled laugh. “Wow, I didn’t kn— Hmm, names can be hard to agree on, don’t you think?” He handed the photo back, and Travis tucked it away in his wallet. “You said you haven’t seen her in years. You and your ex can’t work out a custody arrangement?” “I’d have to find them first.” Travis shrugged. “You feel like getting out of here?” Their gazes locked. Color rose in Aaron’s face, making his eyes brilliant. “Okay.” Overcome with emotion, Travis dropped his hand to Aaron’s wrist and gave it a quick squeeze. When he could trust himself to speak, he attempted a casual tone. “Great! Let me say goodnight to my folks. Be right back.” Travis turned and slid through the crowds, lightheaded with excitement. Blood pounded in his pulse points, and his erection hadn’t diminished. He felt grateful for the concealing folds of his robe. He found his favorite cousin doing doorkeeper duty with his uncle. Karl looked slightly drunk, his eyes glittering. The bells 24

INK ILLUSIONS

jingled on his jester’s cap as Travis drew him aside. “I need to borrow your apartment,” Travis said. “I can’t go home with my parents tonight.” “You dog!” Karl punched him on the arm. “You’re going to get lucky?” “I hope so,” Travis said. “But I need someplace to take him.” He and Karl had been close even before realizing they both were gay, which they kept secret. The extended family, southern Baptist to its core, already struggled to overlook the fact that he, his parents, and Karl were pagans. Travis’s status as an ex-convict? Not a problem. He wasn’t the first male in the family sent to the Big House for breaking the law. “So I’m supposed to go home with your parents?” Karl gave him a look of mingled amusement and exasperation. He laughed. “What should I tell them? Never mind, I’ll think of something.” Travis loved how he shrugged it off, though it was a big favor to ask. Gods, he didn’t deserve a cousin like Karl, who used to drive one hundred and twenty miles one way from Galveston to Huntsville every weekend to visit him in prison. Karl handed Travis his key. “So who’s the lucky guy? Do I know him?” “He’s sitting over there at the bar.” “You dog!” Karl whacked Travis on the arm. “I saw him first. I was going to find him.” “No way!” “Yeah. I memorized his name off the guestbook. Aaron Goldhirsch. He’s just my type.” “No way,” Travis repeated in total anxiety. “You have a type?” “I like his deportment.” “His deportment?” Travis tried not to laugh. Karl enjoyed using fancy words when drunk. 25

INK ILLUSIONS

“You know. His demeanor. He looks like he knows how to fight. I love tough guys, especially if they have a dash of refinement.” Looking regretful, Karl shook his head. “Well, you had the guts to approach him.” He approached me, Travis thought in disbelief. “I owe you, Karl.” He realized what it meant to get lucky. Unlike Karl, who had at least done the deed a few times, Travis had never even kissed a man. His only sexual partner had been Rosemary, his best friend from high school. The mother of his child. He’d never done anything with a man beyond one blowjob at a long-ago party, a memory he had worn to colorless bits over the years by reliving it in his mind until it came to resemble a photograph disintegrating from too much handling. Prison had interrupted his twenties. Inside, he’d had to bury his sexual orientation to save his own life. Travis’s brow got sweaty and his vision blurred as he tried not to think about prison, but the memories begin seeping out like poison from his heart. He would not have survived the Texas State Penitentiary at Huntsville if anyone there had guessed that he desired men. Not at Huntsville Unit, the oldest prison in Texas, where suffering permeated the walls and ground like blood. More men were executed on death row there than in any other prison in the United States, and Travis had sensed their restless, vengeful spirits hovering close throughout his incarceration. The options at Huntsville were few for a young man who found himself inside, alone. He could be everyone’s sex toy and take the scars on his body and on his mind. Or he could do what Travis had done and transform himself into something worse than the predators that surrounded him. No one had touched Travis, but 26

INK ILLUSIONS

he’d paid for it with scars on his soul. But he wouldn’t think about that tonight. *

*

*

They took Aaron’s car, and Travis gave him directions down Harborside Drive to Ferry Road, past side streets with wonderful names like Tuna Avenue and Mackerel Street, to an apartment complex northeast of University of Texas Medical College. Travis led him into an apartment where they stood in darkness while Travis fumbled along the wall for a light switch. An overhead light flared to reveal clutter everywhere. Aaron stared at the boating equipment, comic books, a stack of folded T-shirts, three cases of Nissin Top Ramen noodles, and a pile of fishing gear. He loved other people’s stuff, which always revealed so much about them. Somehow, he hadn’t thought Travis would be so disorganized. “Sorry.” Travis sounded embarrassed. “I didn’t have time to clean up.” “No problem,” Aaron said. “It’s Mardi Gras.” Travis set his mask and hat on the coffee table, then pulled off his robe. Underneath, he wore a black T-shirt and jeans. He folded the robe, his movements precise and graceful, and Aaron watched him in a haze of lust. Was Travis playing hard to get? Or was he really shy? “You want… a beer or something?” Travis asked. “I should check what I have.” Aaron put his hand on Travis’s shoulder, and Travis went rigid with tension. Aaron hesitated, not expecting that reaction. Travis let out a trembling breath and didn’t protest as Aaron leaned him 27

INK ILLUSIONS

against the front door. They stood chest to chest, and Travis kept his gaze downcast as Aaron studied his face, wondering if he could have misread the situation. “Sorry.” Travis breathed the word. “It’s been, you know, a long time…” “For me, too,” Aaron said. “No way.” Travis flashed him an uncertain glance. “Yeah. Work an—” Aaron stopped himself from adding, Family. “And more work.” Travis leaned in and brushed his jaw against Aaron’s, inhaling his scent. The primitive sensuousness of the action increased Aaron’s excitement, sharpening his perceptions. They fit themselves together from head to toe. Travis curved his hand along Aaron’s face, and his fingers carried a whiff of spilled beer and cheap detergent. His lips brushed over Aaron’s mouth in a light, clumsy kiss. Aaron captured Travis’s lower lip in his teeth, sucking it hard. Travis went still, shivers coursing through him. Aaron claimed his mouth in a deeper kiss, teasing Travis’s lips apart with his tongue, and Travis swung him around and pinned him against the door in a full-body press. Wow, Aaron thought, drawing a quick breath. Travis’s mouth crushed against his in a passionate kiss. The kiss felt like a wave, pinning Aaron to the ocean floor. The pleasure lay in the shock of getting overwhelmed and realizing he had the strength to take it and much more. Travis forced his tongue inside Aaron’s mouth, and Aaron sucked its hot length, enjoying the feeling of total surrender. Sweat prickled in his hairline as they shared another long, bruising kiss. Travis drew away, then leaned his forehead against the door. He kept Aaron pinned beneath his 28

INK ILLUSIONS

weight as he stood, trembling and panting. He nipped at Aaron’s earlobe. “You like that?” Aaron couldn’t hide a big smile. “I think you think you’re in charge.” Travis laughed. “Damn right I’m in charge!” His breathing stuttered as Aaron reached under his T-shirt and grasped the lean planes of his back. Aaron spread his fingers, enjoying the heat of Travis’s skin as Travis went rigid—and pressed into Aaron’s touch, inviting the stroking. Their lips met in another open-mouthed kiss that deepened as Travis cupped his big hands around Aaron’s face, drinking him in. He seemed to love kissing more than any man Aaron had ever met. Aaron stroked the taut muscles of Travis’s stomach, which shivered beneath his touch. He skimmed his palms over Travis’s torso, through the hairs that thickened and spread into a mat across Travis’s chest, until he found both nipples, tight as beads. He teased them with rough strokes from his thumbs, and Travis gasped, lifting his mouth from Aaron’s. He gripped Aaron’s wrists. “Slow down,” he said. “Gods, you’re going to make me come.” Gods, plural? The question flashed through Aaron’s mind. Travis eased the smooth weight of the tuxedo jacket off Aaron’s shoulders and draped it over a chair. The white carnation tumbled to the carpet. Aaron hadn’t even noticed Travis undoing his bowtie. Now Travis tugged it loose and placed it with his jacket. “You still think you’re running the show?” Travis asked. Aaron laughed. “I usually do.” He hooked his fingers in Travis’s belt loops, reeling him in. They strained against each other as Aaron realigned them, centering the ridge of Travis’s erection against his own. The 29

INK ILLUSIONS

friction and pressure made him shiver with delight. “Feels good,” Travis murmured into Aaron’s neck. He opened the snap on his jeans. Aaron shoved his hands into Travis’s waistband, forcing the zipper to part until he gripped the taut curves of Travis’s bare ass, hot and covered with fine hairs. Travis’s hips surged and he thrust against Aaron, his breathing hard and irregular. “C’mon,” Travis said. “Come to bed with me. Please.” He grabbed Aaron’s hand and led him down a short hallway to the bedroom. Enough light shone in from the living room to illuminate the wide bed set in a boxy wooden frame. Aaron expected a tangle of sheets, but it looked smooth, topped with a plaid blanket stretched tight and brushed free of wrinkles. He stopped Travis at the foot of the bed. “Wait,” he said. “I’d better ask the question.” “You mean—supplies?” Travis kissed his lips. “No, the other question.” Travis looked puzzled as he toed off his shoes and socks. “What?” “You know—the past sexual history question.” Aaron watched as Travis’s eyes widened. “Don’t worry. I don’t have anything you need to worry about catching.” “Yeah, same here. I don’t have the paperwork, but I will. I’m glad you said something because my brain shut off a while back.” Worry darkened Travis’s eyes. “Hey, I hope you’re not suggesting we just… I mean, we’re still going to use condoms, right?” “Absolutely,” Aaron said. Travis gave a big smile, full of relief and joy. “Let’s do it!” He threw himself backwards on the bed… and let out a startled shout as the firm surface turned liquid, sloshing beneath him. He 30

INK ILLUSIONS

groped for a handhold as the mattress sent him rolling back and forth under Aaron’s incredulous gaze. “You forgot you have a waterbed?” Aaron struggled not to laugh. “Whoa, sorry!” Travis said. “Always catches me by surprise when I do that.” He lay spread-eagled, trying to stabilize the mattress. In the low light, his face looked flushed, his pale hair standing up in spikes. His jeans, unzipped and yanked open, revealed the clear outline of his hard-on straining against his briefs. Aaron stood over him, staring in open pleasure as Travis’s undulating body rode the pitching mattress. Travis wore tightiewhities, and the stretchy material left nothing to the imagination. It almost couldn’t contain his erection. The heavy tip of his cock leaked, dampening the fabric in a translucent patch. Finally, Travis lay flat, having forced the mattress motionless. “Damn.” Travis’s voice shook. “The way you’re looking at me…” He lifted his hips with care, sliding off his jeans. His big hand drifted up to adjust the angle of his cock. The flushed head pushed out from his elastic waistband, glistening and looking big as a plum. Travis choked out a laugh and stuffed it back inside. “What a tease!” Aaron stripped to his shorts and climbed on the mattress. He and Travis rolled together as he worked the briefs down around Travis’s knees, tearing the fabric in his haste. “So sexy…” Travis lay atop Aaron, propped on his elbows and one knee. His erection pressed heavy and full against Aaron’s stomach, and Aaron threw back his head on the mattress, groaning in delight. He imagined that big cock sliding between his lips. Or sinking into his 31

INK ILLUSIONS

ass, making him cry out with the overwhelming pleasure-pain of being stretched and filled. His mouth went dry with lust. “You’re hung like a horse.” Travis paused with his mouth on Aaron’s neck. “What? Really?” “Get a condom,” Aaron said. “Get inside me now!” Travis lunged for the bedside table, and the mattress rolled with his motion. He retrieved a fistful of foil-wrapped condoms, which spilled across the blanket. He groped for one as Aaron pulled his T-shirt up around his neck. A phantasmagoric tattoo blazed on Travis’s back, a huge tree centered over his spine with its roots at his hips and its topmost branches fanning across his broad shoulders. No leaves ornamented the tree, throwing the focus on the vigorous threedimensional quality of its bark and branches. “What is this?” Aaron asked, amazed. “Yggdrasil,” Travis said. “The World Tree.” The tree looked intricate and alive, inked in shades of gray and black. Norse heathen images appeared between its branches— wolves, warriors, mountains, ravens, and ships—in subtle increases in color, mostly steel blue with glints of green. “Aaron,” Travis said his name for the first time, pleading. “Look at it later.” “Take off the T-shirt,” Aaron said. “I want you naked.” Travis let out a hungry moan and molded himself to Aaron, holding him in a tight, full-body clasp as they kissed. Their legs wound together, their cocks trapped and leaking from the friction between their bodies. Aaron worked the T-shirt over Travis’s head. He sat up, rolling it off Travis’s arms, and shock jolted through him like an electrical current. He yelled, shoving Travis away. 32

INK ILLUSIONS

“What?” Travis reared back on his knees on the swaying mattress, eyes wide with alarm. His swollen cock pointed at Aaron. On the white flesh of his right deltoid he had a black tattoo, a swastika about four inches in diameter. “What the hell?” Aaron said. Travis slapped his palm over the tattoo. His free hand dropped to cover his erection. Aaron slithered up the mattress until his back slammed against the headboard. He found himself panting, his muscles rigid with tension. Not that a mere tattoo had the power to scare him, but to swing that fast from arousal to antipathy disoriented him to the point of nausea. “I can explain.” Travis’s voice cracked. “You must know I’m Jewish.” “Goddamn!” Travis flushed deep red. “No, I didn’t.” “With my name, what else could I possibly be?” “I’m sorry. I’m not good with names,” Travis said. “Please let me explain. I didn’t want to bring this up, but I can’t make a worse impression at this point. I was in prison—” “For what?” Aaron cut in. He wondered if Travis would lie to him. “Aggravated assault. I beat up a guy in a bar fight.” Travis kept his gaze locked on Aaron’s face. “I was twenty years old, headed for Huntsville state prison. I had to find a group so I wouldn’t be in there alone. You know what I’m saying? And I had to be one of them.” “A white supremacy gang?” “Yeah,” Travis said. “Because everything in there is racial and you cannot be alone.” “Why didn’t you take off the tattoo when you got out?” 33

INK ILLUSIONS

“I forgot I had it,” Travis said. He could have said it defensively or sarcastically. Instead, his voice dropped to a hushed tone that held no emotion. But his eyes revealed everything—he was devastated. Aaron felt his heart open, even as he fought it. He sensed a connection burning between them. No, he thought. Not him, not now. He’s trouble. He’s Rosemary’s ex… Aaron slid off the bed and dressed with shaking hands as his heartbeat slammed in his chest. This situation had potential to get violent, and he wasn’t in the clear yet. Travis pivoted on his knees to face Aaron, hiding the tattoo with one hand and his genitals with the other. “I want to see you again,” Travis said, his voice raw with need. “Get rid of the swastika and we’ll talk,” Aaron said. He rushed out of the apartment complex, shrugging on his tuxedo jacket, his tie stuffed in his pocket, and staggered into a haze of rain that hung motionless in the heavy night air. God, it never rained like that in Vegas. Inside his car, he locked the doors, started the engine, flicked on the headlights and wipers, and took a few deep breaths. At least he had a long drive ahead to calm him down. He pulled out, steering west through Galveston to find the Gulf Freeway that would take him north to Houston. On his hands and all over his body lay the spicy warm scent of Travis. Aaron wanted to see him again. The connection between them already went beyond just physical.

34

INK ILLUSIONS

CHAPTER 3 Eight weeks later, Travis stood at the rail of Karl’s twenty-fivefoot cabin cruiser, looking back at the dwindling coast of Galveston Island. He exchanged a smile with his cousin who piloted the craft. The Gulf of Mexico spread glittering around them, the sea breezes snapping at their T-shirts. The temperature hovered at a pleasant seventy degrees. The Houston ship channel lay behind them, dotted with massive container ships, and he spotted the ferry making its return trip from Bolivar Peninsula back to Galveston. Every day of his prison sentence, Travis had longed for time out on the ocean. Now, he had his favorite cousin to share it with. Even better, he had Aaron Goldhirsch. “What do you think?” he asked. Aaron stood close beside him, their bare arms touching. “What 35

INK ILLUSIONS

a treat! I’m from the desert. I can’t get enough of all this water.” Distracted, he watched three brown pelicans fly low in formation over the waves, scanning for fish. Travis kept his gaze on Aaron, who looked even better in faded jeans and a green T-shirt than he had in a tux. His heart brimmed with emotion. He couldn’t believe Aaron had given him another chance. “I’m glad you wanted to drive to Galveston for this.” He broke off, distracted by a vivid memory of Aaron on Mardi Gras night, naked except for blue boxer shorts. “Is this an actual date?” Aaron asked. “Yeah. If you want.” Aaron glanced over at Karl, who pretended not to notice. “Does he know that?” When Travis had first brought Aaron aboard, Karl struggled so hard to hide his lust that he came off as hostile. First, he’d stared, swallowing hard. Aaron had offered his hand, which Karl had seized for an awkward shake. An instant later, he’d dropped Aaron’s hand, scrubbing his palm on his jeans, which looked rude as hell. Watching in mortified sympathy, Travis had guessed Karl had gone all sweaty with desire. His poor cousin had backed away, red-faced, to pilot the boat for the rest of their outing. Aaron had stayed cool and didn’t ask a single question until now. What else could he think except that Karl was a homophobic, anti-Semitic asshole? “Yeah, he knows,” Travis said. “He’s the only family member who knows I’m gay.” He felt guilty not telling Aaron that Karl was gay. He hated to recognize his own selfishness, but he wouldn’t mind if Aaron and Karl never got past their initial awkwardness. Karl wouldn’t try to steal Aaron from him, but what if Aaron fell for Karl? Who 36

INK ILLUSIONS

wouldn’t want a great guy like Karl? Aaron lowered his voice. “What’s that pendant around his neck?” “A mjöllnir.” Travis smirked, guessing his answer would enflame Aaron’s curiosity. “Oh? You realize I don’t know that particular Scandinavian word.” “Yeah, and it’s driving you wild, I can tell.” Travis laughed. “It’s Thor’s hammer.” “As in Norse mythology?” “As in everyday belief. I was raised Asatru, and Karl came to it later.” “Your parents are pagans?” Aaron looked intrigued. “And you?” “Yeah, mostly. I’m still sorting it out,” Travis said. “I don’t know anything about it. What’s your core belief?” Aaron asked. It almost came off as challenging, the way he fired the question at Travis, who couldn’t help enjoying the way Aaron demanded information as if he were at a sales seminar. Travis loved the chance to figure Aaron out. Just like with the unknown Scandinavian word. Someone like Aaron would experience strong tension whenever he encountered something that engaged his curiosity. Unlike others who could drift past, he had to dig for every scrap of knowledge. “Everything is alive,” Travis said. “Everything has a soul. Words and metaphors and objects have souls. We’re all connected through a web of energy, and everything we do affects everything else.” Aaron stood close enough to kiss. Travis swallowed, trying to focus on the conversation. “Are you religious?” 37

INK ILLUSIONS

“On the Day of Atonement, absolutely. Otherwise? I could do better.” “What’s your core belief?” Travis asked. Aaron studied Travis with his brilliant, restless gaze. The breeze ruffled through his hair as he started to smile. “A great man, a rabbi, Hillel the Elder, once expressed the entire Torah in three sentences. What is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor. The rest is commentary. Now, go and study.” Travis laughed. “That’s awesome! He said that last part, too? Now, go and study?” “Yes, he did.” Smiling, Aaron stroked his palm over Travis’s arm, as if compelled to touch him. Travis almost stopped breathing as he saw the desire in Aaron’s eyes. Heat flooded his body. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this at ease and alive. He would have kissed Aaron if not for Karl. Remembering Karl, he realized he’d already imposed on his cousin enough by bringing on a date the man they both wanted. Aaron seemed to sense Travis’s self-consciousness and withdrew his hand. His gaze touched on Travis’s right arm. Underneath his T-shirt sleeve, Travis had taped a gauze bandage over the swastika tattoo. “You know I have to ask,” Aaron said. “What about that tattoo?” “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” “Out here where I can’t walk out on you? Not a bad place to stage your battles.” Travis settled on an answering smile. “Thank you.” “You are getting it removed?” “Yes, of course. I’ve done one laser treatment already. 38

INK ILLUSIONS

However”—Travis raised his hand in warning—“it’s going to take five more, and I have to space them six weeks apart.” “So it takes more time than I thought.” “I’m going to keep it taped up so you don’t have to look at it.” Aaron gave a cool nod. “You ever have customers who want swastika tattoos?” Startled, Travis blurted, “Not yet.” “I went online after seeing your tattoo. You know eBay has swastika jewelry for sale? With people bidding on it?” “Bikers,” Travis said. “Death-metal fans. Goth kids who want to shock their parents.” “Yeah, anything to shock the parents.” Aaron shook his head in disbelief. Travis wondered if they’d managed to get past his prison tattoo. He took a deep breath and leaned forward on the boat rail, letting the breeze cool the sweat on the back of his neck. “So, if a customer asked, would you give them a swastika tattoo?” Travis’s stomach clenched. Aaron wasn’t letting him off the hook. “Depends.” “Oh, it does?” “The Nazis didn’t invent the swastika. Look, I put together something for the next time I saw you.” Travis pulled a wad of folded papers from the back pocket of his jeans. “I know about design and symbolism. And I ha—” “Is this a sales presentation? You should know this is one hard sell.” “Hear me out, okay?” Travis smoothed out the first sheet of paper, which showed a scanned and printed photo of the standard Nazi swastika. “That’s the hakenkreuz.” 39

INK ILLUSIONS

“I’m familiar with it,” Aaron said in a dry tone. “And you have it tattooed on your arm.” “But I don’t have it turned at a forty-five degree angle.” “A small distinction.” Travis unfolded his second sheet of paper, containing images of swastikas found worldwide in the art and architecture of Buddhists, Hindus, and Native American tribes such as the Navajo and the Hopi. “I know about this.” Aaron studied the page. “I majored in business, not anthropology, but I’ve heard about kids who use the pre-Nazi origins of the swastika as an excuse to display it and shock people. Frankly, the symbolism would only be significant if they, or you, were Asian or Native American.” “Instead of having my ancestry in northern Europe?” Travis unfolded the third sheet of paper, covering the others. “These are the sun symbols the Nazis stole from northern pagan traditions.” He pointed them out. “The tursaansydän, the triskelion, and the fylfot.” “I’m impressed you know all these names,” Aaron said, “but they’re still swastikas.” “But they’re not the Nazi hakenkreuz. If a skinhead comes to me, wanting that, I’d tell him to get lost.” Actually, Travis would put it in much stronger language. “But if somebody wants a preNazi design? Maybe I’d do it if I thought his or her motives were okay. I’d like to think something that was good before it was corrupted can still be redeemed.” “The swastika? Never.” “I’m not talking about the swastika now.” Travis took a shaky breath. “You?” Aaron watched him in open concern. “You’re not 40

INK ILLUSIONS

corrupted.” Travis dropped his gaze to Aaron’s mouth, which he longed to cover with his own. He remembered them kissing, pressed against the door, Aaron sucking his tongue as he wound his fingers in Aaron’s hair. He broke into a sweat. Aaron had no idea what evil choices he had made in prison. Not that Travis had the courage to unburden himself and explain. Karl called to them, “Wind’s coming up. We should head back.” Travis looked at Aaron. “Have dinner with me.” “You have no idea how much I want to.” Aaron gave a regretful laugh. “Stay overnight,” Travis said, his lust flaring. “I’ll get us a room in a good hotel. You can drive back to Houston after a night’s sleep.” “You really think we’d sleep? No, I want to take this slow.” Travis gave a teasing smile. “You’re safe with me.” Aaron ran his thumb along Travis’s jaw, and Travis forgot to breathe. “You might not be safe with me. Take me back to Galveston. Call me in a couple of days. We’ll get together.” *

*

*

A month later, Travis drove his battered truck through Houston traffic. Taped to his dashboard, he had Rosemary’s old address from when she’d first moved to the city. At the time, Karl had tracked it down for him out of pity. Travis remembered himself then, in prison and frantic to know where Rosemary had taken Belinda. He circled the block, eyeing a couple of derelicts sitting at a 41

INK ILLUSIONS

bus stop, melting under the sweltering mid-May sun in their layers of rags. Behind them, gang graffiti marked a boarded-up liquor store. He had left Ink Illusions early, not wanting to explore a bad neighborhood after dark. Even so, driving in Houston always confused the hell out of him. Where in Houston did Aaron live? Travis wanted to see his place. Between Aaron’s job and Travis’s grand launch of Ink Illusions in Houston, they’d had no time for interaction beyond talking on their cell phones and meeting almost every day for lunch. Travis thought about Aaron all the time. He dreamed about him at night. He felt their separation like a physical ache. But he hadn’t breathed a word to Aaron about his attempts to track down Rosemary and Belinda. He couldn’t bear to have Aaron see him as a stalker, a criminal. Rosemary’s old address, scrawled in Karl’s spiky handwriting, led Travis to a housing complex, where graffiti marred the cheap stucco-over-cinderblock walls. Junk and broken furniture leaned against the stinking dumpster. Even in the early afternoon, the place looked grim. He hated the thought of Rosemary and his baby Belinda living here, even for a short time. Guilt flooded through Travis. When he’d first been sentenced to prison, his parents had begged Rosemary to move in with them in Galveston, where she and Belinda would be safe. She had refused because of him, already cutting the ties between them. Maybe she’d suspected it was the first sentence in a possible lifetime of incarceration for him. Who could blame her? She’d never known her own father. Her mom had died a drug addict in prison. Rosemary had no kin other than Belinda once her grandma had passed. 42

INK ILLUSIONS

Travis went inside, noting the broken lock on the lobby door. The stairwells reeked of industrial disinfectant that almost covered the stink of urine. With fraying patience, he knocked on every door in the complex. He could hear television in the background and close-up rustling behind the doors as residents peered at him through their security peepholes. Damn, he’d forgotten how much he looked like a neo-Nazi biker. No wonder nobody wanted to open the door to him. Travis retreated to the lobby. An elderly Vietnamese man stood looking out the glass door while hand-rolling a cigarette. He had that sea-faring stare. The harsh sun had turned his face leathery, and Travis made him for a commercial fisherman, probably a shrimper, who’d been sailing the Gulf of Mexico since before Travis was born. The old man brightened when Travis called him sir and lit his cigarette, offering him the promo matchbook from Ink Illusions. It turned out he knew the business address for the apartment complex manager, which he wrote out for Travis on a fast-food napkin. That information led Travis to a better neighborhood. He located the tiny office in a strip mall, wedged between a manicure salon and a sandwich shop. A bell jingled when he walked inside. The apartment complex manager, who looked in his early thirties, glanced up from the remains of a sandwich from next door. He gave Travis a bored glance and kept eating. The man might have been a high school quarterback with his beefy good looks. His biceps strained the short sleeves of his button-down shirt. He wore a flesh-colored necktie that, frankly, looked like a penis. Mr. Smooth, Travis thought, already disliking his appearance and demeanor. Travis said hello, and Mr. Smooth set aside his 43

INK ILLUSIONS

sandwich with a resentful sigh. He shifted his weight back in his chair and selected a toothpick to chew. “What can I do for you, mister?” he asked. “I’m looking for someone who used to live at a property you manage.” Travis showed him an old photo of Rosemary, smiling and squinting against the sun at Stewart Beach. The man’s face lit with recognition. He rolled the toothpick aside, exposing the pink tip of his tongue. “Oh, yeah. I wouldn’t kick that out of my bed.” Glancing up, he went pale as he saw Travis’s expression. They locked stares, and the blood drained from Mr. Smooth’s face until it resembled cheese left in the sun. He dragged his gaze down, tidying his fastfood trash. “Yeah, I remember her. What do you want with her?” Travis unclenched his jaw enough to force out the words, “She owes me money.” The manager’s gaze skittered over the Norse heathen tattoos that sleeved Travis’s forearms. “Oh. Well, I hear you, bro. That can be frustrat—” “Where is she now?” Travis lined up his fists on the desktop, leaning in close. “Well, she moved from that first address to another property I manage.” Mr. Smooth licked his lips, and Travis sensed another attempt coming at male bonding. “I would’ve asked her out in a second, but she had a snot-nosed toddler. That usually means no action after a date. At least not at her place, you know?” Rage expanded like a hot coal lodged under Travis’s breastbone. He closed his fist around the flesh-colored tie. “You got that new address for me?” “Well, not exactly.” Mr. Smooth’s voice accelerated. “I mean, she moved on from there, but I do know where she works. I gave 44

INK ILLUSIONS

her a ride to work once. She said it was a good job with benefits, and I don’t think she would’ve given it up.” He scribbled the address on a scrap of paper and offered it to Travis. Travis stared at the other man. He imagined Rosemary alone, struggling to pay the rent to shelter Belinda as Mr. Smooth hung around, ogling her. He saw himself slamming Mr. Smooth up against the wall. He could take this guy apart in twenty seconds, and he really wanted to. He forced himself to open his hand. The sweating man stroked his tie into place down his shirtfront. Travis grabbed the slip of paper and left without a word. He backed his truck to the far end of the strip mall to hide his plate number, then pulled into the street. His stomach rumbled, but he had no time to eat with the hour approaching four-thirty. If he wanted to catch Rosemary leaving her job, he’d have to hurry. He ended up at an office complex six miles away in an even better area. Slouching in his seat, he shut off the engine. If Rosemary recognized him, she’d assume he was stalking her. Which he was, but only out of desperation to see his daughter. Belinda was seven years old now, and he didn’t even know if she looked more like him or like her mother. At 4:55 P.M., Travis recognized Rosemary leaving the building with a man. She wore a pink suit with black trim and matching stiletto heels. Obviously, she still liked to wear those colors. But she’d sleeked her hair up in a professional-looking twist that showed off her graceful neck. Travis could see no visible traces of the mischievous girl who had graduated with him at Ball High School in Galveston. Her handsome companion escorted her with a hand under her elbow. He had a strong build and thick sheaves of sun-streaked hair that framed his roundish face. He handed Rosemary into his 45

INK ILLUSIONS

shiny black sports utility vehicle and jogged around to the driver’s seat Travis’s pulse beat in sharp jabs in his throat. He gave them five seconds to roll into traffic and followed as they traveled north. Rosemary’s man drove like a Boy Scout, keeping to the speed limit and using his turn signal. He pulled into a large parking lot full of cars and people, and Travis circled the block. On his second pass, he took a good look at the building. Lamb of God Evangelical Christian Church. Travis stamped on the accelerator. He sped west. It wasn’t even Sunday. Were Rosemary and her man so serious about religion that they did church stuff on Wednesday nights?

46

INK ILLUSIONS

CHAPTER 4 Aaron realized he could no longer keep resisting a relationship with Travis. It had been a month since they’d gone boating off Galveston Island. It had been fifteen weeks since they’d been naked, in bed, together on Mardi Gras night. Whenever he saw Travis, he wanted him so intensely it left him breathless. Meanwhile, he and Travis were too pressed for time to take the next step to becoming lovers. He was headed for a promotion to regional sales manager, and Travis had an apartment to locate and a business to launch. In reality, fear made Aaron procrastinate. To get closer meant to risk losing Travis and Rosemary and Belinda. As soon as he recognized his fear, he knew he needed to get past it. On Friday May 27th, he took Travis out to dinner at the Italian restaurant down the block from Ink Illusions, where they’d parked 47

INK ILLUSIONS

their cars. The hostess led them to a cozy booth in back and lit the candle in its jar on the table. They placed their orders and shared the garlic bread and a bottle of red wine as they waited. At first, Travis seemed shy and didn’t say much as he shifted the flatware around with his long, strong fingers. Aaron began to draw him out with questions about his business. Soon Aaron sat back, listening as Travis described his employees. After dinner, he wanted to see Travis’s new apartment. He wanted to stay the night. “So you lined them up and told them you were gay?” Aaron said. “Very brave.” “Oh, c’mon.” Travis shrugged. “I own the place.” “It’s not easy confessing something that personal to a group.” “I didn’t line them up like a military inspection.” Travis took a sip of wine. “We were all sitting around in the back room after closing time, and I told them.” “So how’d they take it?” “Well, they just stared at me. Then one of them—he’s young and naïve, but a terrific artist—he wanted to know if that meant they had to sleep with the boss to keep their jobs. He looked nervous, but like he might man up and do it if he absolutely had to.” Travis mimicked an expression of zero enthusiasm as Aaron burst out laughing. “Our two women employees explained to him I couldn’t ask anything illegal like that.” The waitress brought their salads. She set out a pepper mill and parmesan cheese. When she left, Aaron watched Travis, pleased to see he looked relaxed and amused. “So what about your employee?” He poured them both more wine. “Did you give the poor guy some context for the information?” “Just that I wanted them to know so they could decide if they still wanted to work for me. I added that I’d just finished a prison 48

INK ILLUSIONS

sentence for, you know, aggravated assault. And I thought what the hell? Might as well tell ’em I’m a pagan, too.” Travis laughed. “Would you believe the gals shrugged all this off? The guys… now, they sat there, looking stuck on the ‘Huntsville state prison’ part. I hope they give me a chance.” The waitress brought plates of pasta in marinara sauce. Travis asked about the Chinese character tattooed on her forearm, which led to a short conversation about the neighborhood and his tattoo shop. When she left, they ate in silence. Aaron noticed Travis watching him, and glanced down at his tie. “What? Am I splashing sauce all over myself?” “I like to watch you eat.” Travis flushed, dropping his gaze. “So sexy.” Aaron’s throat went dry. He swallowed a mouthful of wine. “That reminds me.” Travis passed him a folded piece of paper. “Something to show you.” Aaron scanned the paper. Surprised, he glanced at Travis. Did they know each other well enough yet for him to joke about sex? He reached across the table and stroked Travis’s forearm. “Nothing says romance like HIV-negative test results, right?” Travis gave a startled guffaw. “Well, darlin’, I wanted to set your mind at ease.” “Darlin’,” Aaron repeated in gentle mockery. Their gazes met and held. Aaron slid his hand over the tattoos on Travis’s arm until his thumb rested on the strong drumming pulse. Travis turned his hand palm up on the table and Aaron covered it with his own. He caught his breath, getting hard just from Travis’s touch. Travis stared at their joined hands, his breathing audible. “My place or yours?” 49

INK ILLUSIONS

Aaron hesitated, and Travis’s gaze flashed to his face. “Yours. I want to see your place.” Oh, God, he’d been caught flatfooted by the question. What excuse could he give to keep his house off-limits? That he was refinishing the hardwood floors? That his three sisters were visiting? Aaron’s face went hot, but Travis nodded and withdrew his hand, picking up his fork to finish his dinner. Aaron ate a forkful of pasta, not even tasting it. “How’s it going with locating your daughter?” he asked. Travis stared at him for a long moment. “Since you asked… I found Rosemary.” “Really?” Aaron’s heart seemed to stop beating. “Yeah. I hope you don’t think this is weird. I already had her first address in Houston. From there, I found her current work address. I saw her in the parking lot.” “Whoa, whoa, whoa, you’re stalking her?” Travis flushed. “I’m not going to do anything to her.” “You’ll scare her half to death if she sees you.” Aaron realized he had to confess everything to Travis and Rosemary about his connection to each of them. Could they forgive him? He felt as if a vise were tightening around his head. Better to explain and risk losing them than to have them find out for themselves. Travis blurted, “She was with a man.” “So what?” Aaron managed to say past his surprise. “She’s not with you anymore. She’s allowed to date.” Travis hesitated as the waitress came to gather their plates. Aaron handed her his credit card without even looking at the check. Had Rosemary met someone special? Why hadn’t she told him? When they were alone, Travis leaned close. “Rosemary isn’t the only one involved here.” 50

INK ILLUSIONS

“What do you mean?” “My daughter’s only seven years old. And some unknown man is coming into her life?” Without thinking, Aaron said, “Rosemary would never date someone dangerous.” “How would you know?” Travis eyed him. Aaron’s hands went cold. “She doesn’t seem like she would. Not from what you say.” “When I was in prison, Rosemary didn’t visit,” Travis said. “Belinda is the only grandchild my mama is ever going to have, and Rosemary sent one snotty little note, saying she’d met a man who was providing for them, and that Belinda adored him.” Rosemary had written to the Jakobsens about him? Aaron’s face felt chilled, and he knew he’d gone pale. He hoped the low light would hide it. “So, yeah,” Travis said, “I think she’d take up with a stranger like she did before.” Aaron took a sip of wine to ease his dry throat. “This guy you saw…” “I followed them to church. It looked serious. They were there to do whatever Christians do on Wednesday nights. Rosemary never used to care about church.” “You cannot stalk her,” Aaron said. “It’s illegal. It’s wrong.” “I need…” Travis’s voice grew rough. “I need to see my kid.” *

*

*

After dinner, they walked back to Ink Illusions. Aaron decided to leave his car in the parking lot, and Travis drove them to his apartment. It looked the polar opposite of the cluttered apartment 51

INK ILLUSIONS

in Galveston with the waterbed. Aaron stood in the tiny living room, staring around with great interest. A sofa with a low coffee table in front filled one wall. A laptop computer and printer sat on the coffee table. The beige carpet stretched wall to wall, and the bare walls, painted white, threw back a faint echo of their voices. “So where are the comic books?” He glanced past the half-wall at Travis in the kitchen. Travis shrugged and gave a mysterious smile. The minute they’d stepped inside, he’d resumed his shy, aloof demeanor, just like back in Galveston—as if pretending they hadn’t come back for their first sexual encounter since Mardi Gras. But Aaron didn’t mind. He sensed the warmth and intensity of Travis’s undivided attention underneath the surface politeness. The kitchen, also painted white, contained a refrigerator, stove, and tiny sink. The bare countertops looked scrubbed. Under a small window with its blinds rolled closed sat a wooden table and two folding chairs. No newspapers, no plants. Travis opened his refrigerator and peered inside. “You want something?” “How about some ramen?” Aaron laughed. “You had three cases at your other place.” “Okay, you got me.” Smiling, Travis shut the refrigerator. “That place in Galveston? It wasn’t mine. It belonged to Karl.” He walked into the living room and came up to Aaron, his big hands sliding off Aaron’s suit jacket. “Let me put this… somewhere.” He started to step away, and Aaron took him by the shoulders. “Stay close. Just drop it.” Travis’s eyes widened and he bent his knees, draping the jacket with care across the carpet. He straightened, and Aaron took his face in both hands, pulling him 52

INK ILLUSIONS

close for an urgent kiss. Their mouths ground together and softened, relaxing. Aaron caressed Travis’s lips with his tongue, coaxing them apart. As Travis yielded, a deep shiver ran through his wide back. His mouth tasted of mint from the chocolates that came with the check at the restaurant. He sucked Aaron’s tongue and moved to nibble on his lips. They kissed for a long time, tasting each other as their breathing grew rough and uneven. “I know you,” Travis whispered against Aaron’s lips. “The way you kiss with your tongue in my mouth. You want your cock in my ass.” Aaron’s excitement leaped two or three notches. “I could top you like you’ve never been topped,” he blurted between breathless kisses. He pressed his mouth to Travis’s jaw line, enjoying the slight rasp of beard stubble. “Hmmm.” Travis tried with his big fingers to slip loose Aaron’s tie. “You’re not lacking in self-confidence.” “I was born with self-confidence.” Aaron tugged at Travis’s Tshirt, which Travis wore cowboy style, tucked tight into the waistband of his jeans. No slouching around in a loose shirt like an aimless undergraduate, not Travis. Aaron slid his hands underneath to clasp Travis’s waist while Travis fumbled with Aaron’s tie. “Damn,” Travis said. “You always pronounce that word with three syllables?” Aaron asked. Travis laughed. “You making fun of my accent?” He took Aaron’s hands and drew him across the living room, stepping backward, as if they were dancing. They squeezed into a tiny hallway, then entered a smaller room with a large mattress and box-spring set on the floor. Travis turned on an overhead light that 53

INK ILLUSIONS

flooded the room with incandescent brightness. “You work fast.” Aaron’s palms tingled with excitement where they gripped each other’s hands. “Except for taking off my tie. There, you could use some practice.” “Last one I wore was for my sentencing,” Travis said with a crooked grin. He eased the tie free from Aaron’s collar as if handling an expensive artifact and crouched to lay it on the carpet. On impulse, Aaron seized Travis’s shoulders with gentle pressure, forcing him to kneel. Travis stared up at Aaron. Blood darkened his face, making his ice-blue eyes brilliant. He looked aroused and amused. “I get the impression you still think you’re running this show.” He lifted his hand toward Aaron as they locked stares. Aaron stood trembling, unable to hide a big smile as Travis’s fingers closed over his erection, which pressed against the front of his trousers. Travis gave a gentle squeeze, and Aaron let out a ragged exhalation. The muscles in his thighs went rigid and his ass clenched. Sweat ran down his back while Travis traced the length and thickness of his cock through the confining layers of cloth. “Take off your shirt,” Aaron said. Travis swept off his T-shirt as he knelt at Aaron’s feet. He had porcelain-pale skin across the chiseled, heavy muscles of his chest and abdomen. It shone in contrast with the blue-green tattoo sleeves of his forearms. He had a farmer’s tan, gold-tinged along his arms and neck beyond where his T-shirt had blocked the Texas sun. As always, he wore a bandage over the swastika tattoo, though he’d come almost halfway through his series of laser treatments to remove it. His gaze flicked to the top button of Aaron’s shirt as if to say, your turn. “I’ll race you,” Aaron said. “First one naked gets to be on top.” 54

INK ILLUSIONS

They threw off their clothes and dived on Travis’s bed. Not a waterbed, this time. The firm mattress shook on the box springs as they wrestled, grunting and panting, their legs winding together as each tried to pin the other. Close in size and weight, they heated the small room with their struggles. Sweat slicked their naked skin—and Travis prevailed. With a triumphant shout, he pinned Aaron face down in the crisp sheets and straddled his hips. His hands locked over Aaron’s wrists, anchoring them to the mattress. Travis had to lean on Aaron to hold him. They both breathed hard and fast, trying to recover. “You better not have let me win,” Travis said. Lust heated his voice. “Hell, no!” Aaron flexed his muscles, but he couldn’t move. “Who got naked first?” “I didn’t notice,” Travis said. “You were taxing my strength to the max.” Aaron pressed up against him. “So make it worth my while.” Without easing his grip on Aaron’s wrists, Travis lay atop him, his chest molded to Aaron’s back. His erection pressed between the cheeks of Aaron’s ass, its thickness spreading Aaron’s muscles apart like a warm iron bar. Travis pressed a tender, open-mouthed kiss to the back of Aaron’s neck. “I will. What do you want me to do?” Aaron groaned in total surrender. “Put on a condom.” Travis’s weight lifted off him and Aaron’s back cooled as he listened to Travis groping for supplies. “You got lube? We can never have too much of that.” Travis fumbled with a condom wrapper and cursed under his breath. “Uh… I think I tore it. Maybe you could put one on me?” Aaron did so, rolling the semi-transparent latex over Travis’s 55

INK ILLUSIONS

hard-on, which looked even better than it felt. Big, thick, uncircumcised, and—thank God—no tattoos or piercings. He sensed Travis’s gaze locked on his face. Travis said in a fast, embarrassed mumble, “You’re so goodlooking.” Aaron gave a pleased snort at the flattery, sending Travis an amused glance. Travis reddened. “I mean it. You have a gorgeous smile.” Aaron lay face down across both pillows, and their combined mass tilted his hips, opening his buttocks to Travis’s view. He couldn’t help tensing in embarrassment. “The lights?” “The lights stay on.” Travis’s hot palms spread his thighs. “I want to see everything.” “It’s just a butt,” Aaron said. “You know, for sitting on? Nothing spec—” Travis slapped his ass, and he flinched with a surprised yelp. He burst out laughing. “What was that for?” Travis soothed the flushed skin with a light caress. “Just… keeping you on your toes.” He sounded embarrassed and aroused. “Where do you want the lube? On me? On you?” Nervous excitement tightened his voice. “Should I just squirt it on your ass like ketchup on a hotdog or what?” Aaron laughed. “Warm it in your hands and slather it all over the place. On your cock. In my ass. You’re going to have to get me stretched, big guy, because I never bottom.” Face pressed to the sheets, he realized Travis had never done this before. The fumbling with the condom had made him wonder, and the questions had removed all doubt. Travis’s lube-slick fingertip teased his hole, circling and pressing until it sank in. Aaron tried to relax as his muscles clenched against the invasion. Travis’s breathing grew rough as he 56

INK ILLUSIONS

began to work the lube into Aaron’s passage with strong, massaging strokes. Aaron felt his consciousness start to drift, riding the pleasure-pain. This happened sometimes in boxing matches when physical sensation made his mind shut down. He surfaced into full awareness with his forehead pressed to the mattress, his fists wound in the sheets, and his knees spread. With a deep groan, he forced his ass back against Travis’s two middle fingers, which pressed deep inside him. Panting with excitement, Travis explored Aaron’s body with his free hand as if mapping every sweaty inch. Each separate touch distracted Aaron from the fullness in his ass, jolting him like an unexpected grope from a stranger. A hot palm cupped his balls, which swayed between his rigid thighs. Strong fingers milked his straining cock. A thumb glided over its leaking slit. Aaron’s body jerked and he tightened his fists in the sheets. “Do it,” he said. With a tight moan, Travis pressed his cock head inside. He stopped, letting Aaron adjust to the burning stretch. As if from far away, Travis said words like hot, tight, beautiful, and incredible. Aaron pressed his hips back in slow motion, and Travis let him control their pace. The exquisite fullness pushed Aaron to the edge of pain. It took forever for Travis’s cock to sink completely inside him. Then they were joined, their bodies glistening with sweat. The fine hairs on Travis’s quadriceps pressed into the back of Aaron’s thighs. Travis whispered, “Gods above and below.” Aaron started to drift, overwhelmed with sensation. “Do it.” They moved together, finding their rhythm. Travis’s cock pressed over Aaron’s prostate with each slow, controlled thrust, 57

INK ILLUSIONS

and tingling swept Aaron’s nerve endings. Each withdrawal felt even better—a dragging massage against the clenching muscles of his channel. It had him gasping with pleasure as he rocked his hips back, increasing their pace. His breathing deepened to a moan as Travis fisted his cock, jerking him off. It didn’t take long until he shouted, spurting into the sheets. His body shook with his panting. Travis surged inside him, letting out a yell of pleasure as he filled the condom. He covered Aaron’s back with kisses as he eased himself apart, and they toppled to the bed in a loose embrace. “Oh, man, that was something.” Travis breathed the words. “Yeah…” Aaron reached for Travis’s hand, twining their fingers together. *

*

*

The next morning, Travis woke to find them molded together, naked atop the crumpled sheets. Aaron lay on his back, asleep in Travis’s arms. Travis had a full erection nudging against Aaron’s thigh, but he didn’t want to wake him yet if he needed the sleep. Keeping still, he slanted his gaze down and ogled Aaron’s cock, which lay soft and pale against the darkness of his pubic hair. Travis imagined closing his lips over the deep pink of the exposed glans, drawing the shaft into the wet heat of his mouth, and coaxing it erect with his tongue. Unable to stop himself, he kissed Aaron’s shoulder. Aaron stirred and his hand slid down to stroke Travis’s cock. “Don’t tattoo it.” Aaron spoke in a half-asleep mumble. “No barber pole stripes.” “What?” Travis whispered, trying not to laugh. “What are you 58

INK ILLUSIONS

dreaming about?” He kissed Aaron’s ear. “How about candy cane stripes?” “No…” Aaron drifted awake. “And no twining ivy or big snakes.” “How about we just get it on?” Travis asked in a hopeful rush. Aaron winced. “Way too sore.” He sized Travis up, his eyes glinting. “Your turn.” Travis blushed hot into his hairline. “No way. I mean, I’m not ready for that.” “No problem,” Aaron said. “Get the lube. We’ll do something else.” The mattress dipped as he pulled Travis close from behind. Travis’s stomach clenched in anticipation, and he forced himself not to look back at Aaron. “Press your legs together.” Aaron kissed his neck. “You’re going to rub off on me?” Travis asked. “That’s so hot.” Aaron molded his body against Travis, locking one arm tight around Travis’s waist. His lube-slick cock pressed between Travis’s thighs. He felt good—like a strong man who could take Travis by force. After all, they were almost the same size. Aaron had an intensely competitive nature and more skill as a fighter. He had the experience to maneuver an untrained brawler like Travis all over the boxing ring. To overwhelm him and then what? Pin him down and use him? Wow, Travis thought, flushing hot all over. Caught in his fantasy, he gave a startled grunt as Aaron thrust against him. Gods, it felt intense, ramming between his thighs from behind. Aaron’s free hand fisted Travis’s cock, giving him a fasterpaced hand-job than he would have preferred. But Travis enjoyed the down-and-dirty edge it gave to the experience. He loved the 59

INK ILLUSIONS

fine dark hair along Aaron’s forearms and the strength of his grip and the pressure of his chest expanding against Travis’s back with the force of his breathing. The room smelled of sex. “Ohhh, yeah,” Travis burst out. They struggled and ground against each other, panting and letting out the occasional tight moan as they worked for their releases. Travis came first, shouting, one hand sliding back to grasp Aaron’s thigh as he shot sticky ropes of fluid across the sheets. Two more thrusts and Aaron came all over Travis— between his thighs, in the crack of his ass, even smearing his lower back with liquid heat. Holy gods! Travis gripped the mattress, laughing. So he hadn’t been the only one massively aroused. “Intense.” Aaron breathed the word against Travis’s neck. “Let’s do it again as soon as possible,” Travis said. A shiver ran through Aaron. “What time is it? I got to get home…” That bothered Travis as they took a quick shower together, water spraying down and steam clouds rising. Aaron always put out a strange, defensive vibe around his home life. Why didn’t Aaron want to invite him over? Travis wondered as he cooked scrambled eggs and toast, and Aaron sat at his table, eating with him and wearing the slightly wrinkled suit from yesterday. Was Aaron two-timing him? Travis would have to ask him some hard questions soon. They got in Travis’s truck and he steered into Sunday morning traffic, intending to drive Aaron back to his car at Ink Illusions. But his subconscious took over. He drove the other way to the Lamb of God Evangelical Christian Church. “Where are you taking me?” Aaron asked. 60

INK ILLUSIONS

“I want to show you Rosemary’s new church.” “Why?” Travis took the turn into the parking lot too fast, and they rolled over the curb and down. Cars occupied almost every parking space. According to the announcement board, they had arrived in mid-sermon, and the double doors stood closed tight. Travis parked in the front loading zone and shut off the engine. Birdsong reached them through the rolled-down windows. “Why are we here?” Aaron asked. Travis’s patience had run out. He wanted to know if Aaron had a wife and kids hidden in a secret suburb that he’d never allow Travis to visit. Meanwhile, he wanted Aaron to understand what family meant to him. He hated the word stalking, which made him sound like a psychopath, but he had to know if Belinda needed him. That meant finding Rosemary today. Now. “Maybe we should go in,” he said. Aaron looked at him. “It’s an evangelical Christian church.” “Yeah. So?” “I’m a Jew. You’re a pagan. We go in, we’ll both burst into flames like vampires.” Travis struggled not to laugh. “C’mon. No jokes.” “I’m not joking. We shouldn’t be here, spying on your ex. Let’s go.” Inside the church, a child screeched in anger. Travis’s gaze shifted past Aaron to the double doors as one rattled and flew open. Out came Rosemary, wearing white stiletto heels and a green dress with a tiny matching jacket. She held a white purse clamped under her elbow. “The last time I take you to church!” she said. Her man followed in his slacks-and-sport-coat attire, and they 61

INK ILLUSIONS

dragged a little girl, who erupted into another scream of rage, between them. Tears rolled down her face. She wore a grubby white dress and sneakers. Belinda. Travis stared, feeling a seismic shift in his heart. Gods, he thought. She looks like me. She has my hair. And apparently my temper. Aaron fumbled with his seatbelt. He had an intense, closed look to his face, as if responding to an emergency. He got out of the truck and Travis dashed around the hood to stand beside him. Belinda’s reddened eyelids lifted. “A-a-a-aron!” she screamed. The name pierced Travis like an arrow—he couldn’t breathe from shock. Belinda wrenched free of her escort and sprinted down the church steps, throwing herself into Aaron’s arms. He stood, lifting her as she clung to him. Sobbing, she buried her wet face in his neck, as if he were her father, her protector. Travis stared at them in helpless disbelief. Rosemary and her man made it down the stairs. She stopped short, her gaze fixed on Aaron as if he’d shot her in the heart. Her handbag hit the pavement, spilling loose change, cosmetics, and a pack of tissues. Her man dived after it, dropped to one knee, and pawed everything back in place. Travis forced himself to speak. “You all know each other?” He remembered the words of his mother back in Galveston. She has a man, someone with money, who's providing for her and Belinda. We can't disrupt their lives. Aaron turned to face Travis as he held Belinda close. He’d gone pale and silent. Rosemary’s man stood, clutching her purse. His gaze dropped to Travis’s tattoo sleeves and his lips tightened in distaste. He extended his free hand. “I’m Chad Barnes.” “I don’t give a good goddamn who you are.” Travis wrenched 62

INK ILLUSIONS

his attention back to Aaron. “I can explain,” Aaron said. His gaze locked on Travis’s face. Sniffling, Belinda gave Travis a fearful look. It pierced him to the core, his kid giving him that look. Unable to breathe, he turned and blundered back to his truck. Aaron called his name as if across a vast distance. Travis jumped inside the truck, revved it up, and threw it in gear. He didn’t look back as he drove from the parking lot. *

*

*

Aaron got home around noon after calling a cab to take him to Ink Illusions to retrieve his car. The humidity closed around him like a moist sponge as he trudged up his front walk. Memorial Day weekend. They should all be at the beach. He forced his thoughts away from Galveston and Travis. He found Rosemary in the kitchen, making lunch for Belinda, who was playing in the back yard. Rosemary gave him a furious look. Belinda darted around, half-visible through the screen door. She seemed to be talking to her guinea pigs as she supervised them on their outdoor constitutional. “He’s the man you’ve been seeing?” Rosemary asked. “Travis?” “I don’t see you running your dates past me for approval,” Aaron said as he stripped off his suit jacket and tie. “You never even told me about what’s-his-face, that evangelical slab of beef you just went to church with.” “Chad doesn’t pose a threat to Belinda.” She blinked back tears. Neither of them wanted to fight. Aaron sat at the kitchen table, 63

INK ILLUSIONS

and she joined him. He rested his head on his folded arms. “Here’s an idea,” he said past his heavy heart. “Let’s hire a lawyer and work out a custody arrangement.” “I don’t think Travis will talk to either of us right now.” Aaron sat up. “How long is he going to hold a grudge?” Rosemary gave him a sympathetic look. “He’ll unplug his answering machine at home and refuse to take your calls at work. This will go on for a week or two. Maybe three or four, in this case. My God, this must’ve been a huge shock for him…” “You’re not completely pissed off at me right now?” “I got you into this.” She bit her lip. “I asked you to go to Galveston and meet him.” Aaron blurted, “I’m in love with him.” Rosemary stared at him. “Oh…” “What? Is that bad? Good?” “Complicated.” “You said he might avoid me for three or four weeks?” Aaron’s chest ached with regret, and he rubbed it, trying to ease the tightness. “Too much time is passing. We met on Mardi Gras. It’s now Memorial Day weekend, and we just barely… you know, last night.” Rosemary’s eyes widened with shocked curiosity, and he stumbled on. “Now, we have to wait again before we can see each other?” “You’ve got it bad,” she said. “Truly, you do. I’ve never seen you like this.” Without thinking, he said, “Let me take Belinda to meet Travis.” “No!” Rosemary recoiled. “Do not use my daughter as a bribe to win back Travis.” Shame flooded through Aaron. She’d seen his intent even 64

INK ILLUSIONS

before he had. “Aaron, listen.” Rosemary’s voice wobbled with fear. “Either he loves you or he doesn’t. If he does, you shouldn’t need to bribe him. If he doesn’t, bribing him won’t work anyway.” “So I’m bribing him.” He hated to admit it. “Maybe I owe him after all this deceit. I’ve taken his place as Belinda’s dad for three years. Just like you, Travis wants to protect Belinda. You think we can stop him? Doesn’t she need her dad? I know I needed mine.” “What if he steals her?” Rosemary whispered. “Let’s get through one visit. You can be there, too.” “I don’t want to see him again. He wouldn’t even shake Chad’s hand.” “Okay, pick a restaurant. You can drive Travis and me to it and leave us there with Belinda. Confiscate our cell phones so we can’t call a cab and pick us up after dinner in ninety minutes.” Aaron put up his hand to ward off her objections as color flooded her face. “Yes, it’s ridiculous. But it puts you in control of the transportation, and nobody is going to kidnap anybody.”

65

INK ILLUSIONS

CHAPTER 5 Travis needed time to think. He couldn’t process what he’d seen. His daughter, who didn’t even know him, had run to Aaron for protection. He didn’t believe for an instant that Aaron and Rosemary were together. After that night at his apartment, Travis knew in his heart that Aaron belonged to him. But the strangeness of Aaron’s connection with Rosemary and Belinda continued to gnaw at his peace of mind. So he buried himself in work at Ink Illusions and refused to take Aaron’s phone calls. He let the body-piercing specialist Pauline take messages that he shoved in his pocket without reading. When he wasn’t tattooing customers, he spent time designing tattoos with sketch board and computer. The scant time that remained, he put into completing a mural on the outside shop 66

INK ILLUSIONS

wall and doing remodeling tasks inside the shop itself. On the tenth afternoon, Aaron showed up at Ink Illusions as the hazy sun slanted low in the west window. He walked inside, causing the bell on the shop door to jingle. Travis glanced up from talking with Pauline and almost dropped his sketchbook. Aaron’s suit, shirt, and tie were shades of steel gray, and he looked so handsome Travis couldn’t stop staring at him. “You’re the boyfriend,” Pauline said. “Mr. Goldhirsch of the many phone calls?” He laughed. “Call me Aaron. How did you figure out who I am?” “By the way Travis is looking at you even as we speak.” “Pauline, for gods’ sake,” Travis managed to say. She smirked at him and said to Aaron, “I like your persistence.” “Persistence is my middle name.” “Well, that’s good because getting laid might improve his mood,” Pauline said. Travis blushed, and Aaron said, without even blinking, “It always improves my mood.” She laughed and offered her hand to Aaron like a politician on the campaign trail. It looked funny coming from a tiny Goth girl in platform shoes and crumbly dark lipstick. Instead of shaking her hand, Aaron raised it to his lips, casting a winsome glance at her before kissing the snake tattoo that coiled around her wrist. She let out a giggle of disbelief. Travis felt he should say something or the two of them would stand there flirting with each other forever. Besides, Pauline happened to be way too inquisitive about his private life. “What do you want?” Travis winced. It sounded worse than 67

INK ILLUSIONS

he’d intended. “I owe you an explanation,” Aaron said, growing serious. “Let me buy you dinner.” “Go on, boss,” Pauline didn’t budge from where she stood. “I got it covered here.” “Belinda’s going to join us,” Aaron said. Travis’s heart leaped. A chance to spend time with both of them? “Okay.” “Who’s Belinda?” Pauline asked in cheerful curiosity. Travis tried to ignore her. “But first…” Aaron held out his hand. “This is a little weird, but I need your cell phone.” “What for?” Travis asked. “I’ll explain later.” Aaron gave him a hopeful smile. Travis handed over his phone, which Aaron slipped into his jacket pocket. They walked outside, almost swimming through the late afternoon humidity. A white compact car idled at the curb. Travis jerked his attention back as Aaron touched his arm. “I hope you can forgive me,” Aaron said. “Rosemary is as upset as you are, and I’ve had to agree to some unusual terms so she’d let Belinda go to dinner with us. No cell phones. Rosemary is dropping us off at the restaurant and picking us up later.” “She doesn’t trust me.” “We can afford to be generous.” Aaron put his arms around Travis’s waist right there in the parking lot. “I want to introduce you to Belinda. She might be shy at first, but we’ve got to start somewhere, right?” Travis managed a nod, embarrassed by how much he needed Aaron’s touch. “Okay. Dinner and an explanation. But first, while we’re still alone …” His face burned. “Did you really want to meet 68

INK ILLUSIONS

me? Back on Mardi Gras, when you spilled beer on me? Was that just some ploy you and Rosemary thought up?” “Travis.” Aaron tightened his grip. “You had me when I first saw you smile. I went to Galveston for Rosemary, but I forgot everything when I saw you.” “Okay.” Flustered, Travis swallowed in a dry throat. “You believe me?” “Yeah. I’ll listen to what you have to say.” He and Aaron walked to the white compact car parked at the curb. He could make out the silhouettes of a woman at the wheel and a child in the front passenger seat. His stomach started to cramp with anxiety. He and Aaron wedged themselves into the cramped confines of the back seat. A flash of bright hair caught his eye as Belinda turned around to see him. “Belinda,” Aaron said. “I want t—” The car shot into traffic as Rosemary stomped on the accelerator. Everyone swayed, thumping back against the seats, and Belinda whipped her head around to face forward. Rosemary settled a pair of sunglasses on her nose. “Put your seatbelt on, honey,” she told Belinda. “You, too, boys.” Aaron looked annoyed, but said nothing. Rosemary snapped on the radio, tuning to a pop station to prevent any further conversation. Three minutes later, she steered into the parking lot of the nearest franchise in a kiddie-restaurant chain. She stuck out her palm. Without a word, Aaron handed over their cell phones, which she stashed in her tote bag. “Okay, out of the car,” she said. Travis recognized the bright fake tone she used to disguise anger. “I’ll pick you up in ninety minutes.” The three of them climbed out, and Belinda latched onto 69

INK ILLUSIONS

Aaron’s hand. Travis tried to force down his jealousy. Her somber gaze slid to the back bumper of the car, which jolted as Rosemary rolled out of the parking lot, flitted back to Aaron, and ventured to Travis. Despite the mid-June heat, he wished he’d thought to put on his denim jacket. He could tell by her wide eyes that she found his tattoo sleeves sinister. “After a ride in that tin can, I should iron out my legs.” Aaron brushed at his suit with his free hand. “Belinda, this is Travis. My friend.” He added in an encouraging tone, “You want to shake hands with him?” “No,” Belinda answered in a tiny voice. “Okay, no problem,” Aaron said. “Maybe after dinner. Let’s get a table.” Inside, everything had been decorated in pastel shades of pink, yellow, and creamy white. Clown faces grinned from circus posters, black-and-white portraits, and figurines balanced on counters, shelves, and even on the partial room dividers. Belinda looked taken aback, and Travis didn’t blame her. Clowns were creepy even in small doses, let alone everywhere. Their hostess put them in a back booth under a huge poster of a merry-go-round. Belinda sat on the bench seat with Aaron, leaving Travis to sit facing them. He tried not to feel discouraged. They studied their menus, and Belinda tugged at Aaron’s suit jacket like a much younger child in uncertain surroundings. “Can I have whatever I want?” she whispered to him. Another wave of recognition swept over Travis. He’d been told he used to do that. “Sure,” Aaron said. “But you have to eat some vegetables.” “Okay.” She kept her gaze downcast. Travis tried to think of something to say. His cousins were 70

INK ILLUSIONS

great with kids and could get them talking about school and hobbies. He remembered being a kid and feeling uneasy when adults fumbled to make conversation. He’d especially hated when they asked how old he was. It seemed so nosy and insulting. “Hi, there!” Their waitress arrived, dressed in a yellow clown suit. Above the frilly Elizabethan ruff that stood out like a wheel of cheese around her neck, she had a sweet face. Travis guessed she might be a college student, putting herself through school. She set a plastic bucket of crayons in front of Belinda. “You like coloring?” Overwhelmed, Belinda nodded. She scooted closer to Aaron. “Well, okay!” Their waitress turned over Belinda’s paper place mat. “See all these drawings on the back? That’s for you to color in. These are extra place mats to keep you going.” She filled their plastic water glasses, took their order, and hurried back toward the kitchen. Aaron and Travis looked at each other. Belinda started coloring with a little too much concentration, as if trying to trick them into thinking she wasn’t paying attention. “You want to know how Rosemary and I met?” Aaron asked. “Yeah. Why don’t you start there,” Travis said. “Almost four years ago in a cooking class. She came in late because she’d had trouble finding a babysitter and she sat next to me. On break, my boyfriend at the ti—” Belinda snickered, but not in a mean way. “You have a boyfriend,” she said in a singsong tone under her breath. Travis recognized it as affectionate teasing and his throat closed with emotion. He didn’t know what he felt. Astonishment that Aaron would be so open about his gay identity? Relief that Belinda didn’t care? 71

INK ILLUSIONS

“Had a boyfriend,” Aaron said. “Anyway, my boyfriend at the time got snippy with her. He gave her outfit a second glance and implied maybe she couldn’t afford to pay for the cooking class.” “Oh. Nice.” Travis shook his head. “Could we speed up the story?” He wanted details, but not in front of his kid. “Sure, no problem. To summarize, I dumped him that night. His attitude was the final straw in a list of things I’d come to dislike. By then I had Rosemary’s phone number and I took her out to lunch. I didn’t lead her on. I told her I’m gay. We became good friends.” “Wait.” Travis looked at Belinda. “You know what that means? Gay?” She shrugged, her gaze fixed on the placemat. Travis waited her out. Mingled concern and curiosity flashed across Aaron’s face, but he kept quiet. Finally, Belinda said in a low voice, “He has a boyfriend.” “And you don’t care?” Travis needed to hear it. “Why should she care?” Aaron asked in subtle warning. “Right. Sorry.” Travis flushed, not wanting to plant a bad connotation in her mind. “So Rosemary and I became good friends,” Aaron said. “I knew she wanted to get into a better neighborhood so Belinda could attend a good school, and I was traveling a lot on business, and I asked her house-sit a few times. Then I asked if she wanted to move in.” “Just like that?” Travis stared at him. “Yeah. I know. My parents thought it was impulsive. But I’ll admit I researched her on the Internet. Credit history and so forth,” Aaron said. Travis guessed he’d also verified she had no criminal record. 72

INK ILLUSIONS

“She probably did the same thing with me. I already knew I liked her and Belinda, and she knew I had no ulterior motive. You’ve got to realize I’d moved to Houston for my job, and I missed my family terribly.” Their waitress brought out the food, which included burgers and French fries for Aaron and Travis. Belinda received a plate of pancakes smothered in whipped cream and a small side dish of steamed vegetables. She must have inherited Rosemary’s cast-iron stomach. Such a strange combination of foods would have had Travis throwing up mere hours later. Belinda stole a French fry from Aaron’s plate, but otherwise settled down to eat her meal. “So you just paid their way?” Travis said. “You supported Rosemary and Belinda?” “Rosemary reminds me of my sisters. They have a similar arrangement. The one who’s a doctor owns a house in Vegas near our parents. The other two are artists and they live with her. They have jobs, as Rosemary does, and it doesn’t matter that one sister makes more money than the others do. We’re a very close-knit family.” Travis hesitated. “But Rosemary and Belinda aren’t your family.” “Yes, they are. And it’s just money.” Aaron shrugged. “I can always earn more.” Travis almost smiled at the arrogance. On the minimum wage level where he and Rosemary had started, money meant more than just cash. It could be measured in years of struggling. Its pursuit sucked down huge chunks of people’s lives. His own parents still poured their energy into the Seawall Boulevard Restaurant. Through his high school years, they had forced Travis to work there without pay because it helped them put a roof over his head. 73

INK ILLUSIONS

Once, he’d hated them for it, but now he saw their point. “Tell me why you came to Galveston for Mardi Gras,” Travis said. “I thought it might help Rosemary. We’d just heard about your… release, and I agreed to meet you and scope out the situation,” Aaron said. “Also, I desperately wanted to attend the ball, or, really, anything put on by something called the Mystick Krewe of Earthly Delights.” He laughed. “I can be bribed with the promise of a good time. But I’m glad I did it.” His gaze touched on Belinda and he added in a hushed tone, “I’m glad I met you. I never meant to deceive or manipulate you or Rosemary.” Travis didn’t know what to say. He no longer felt angry, but he needed time to think. Belinda darted a glance at Travis. She whispered to Aaron, “Is he your boyfriend?” “That depends on how he feels after this.” Aaron kept his tone light. He looked at Travis. “We can talk more, if you want. Think about it.” He added to Belinda, “Eat your veggies. Let Travis tell us about his day.” Travis’s mind went blank as his kid stared at him and waited to be entertained. She had finished her pancakes, but hadn’t touched her steamed vegetables. Travis realized Aaron meant to do him a favor by letting him take center stage. “Today I tattooed five butterflies on a girl’s leg. Monarch butterflies. You know. Those orange and black ones?” Belinda gave a hesitant nod, and Travis tried to think past his paralyzing self-consciousness. “And we did a piercing on a guy before that. Well, I didn’t have to do it, thank the gods.” He clamped his mouth shut, realizing it wasn’t an age-appropriate topic. “Did it hurt?” Belinda scrunched up her face. 74

INK ILLUSIONS

“I’m sure it did, yeah.” Travis almost broke into a sweat. “Where’d he get pierced?” Aaron’s voice dropped. “Whoa. In his schlong?” Belinda pounced on the word. “Schlong!” Aaron almost spat out a mouthful of water. “No, no, no, don’t use that word.” He gave Travis an apologetic look. “She likes Yiddish words. I keep forgetting I can’t hide what I’m saying that way.” Travis couldn’t help laughing, even though Belinda looked puzzled, her gaze flashing between them. Aaron gave her a mock serious look. “Why don’t you forget that word? I’ll give you a better one. Okay?” “Okay.” She waited. Expectantly. The anticipation began to build. “I’m thinking. I’m thinking,” Aaron said. “But you should finish your veggies.” His voice took on a theatrical quality. “Because you know what’ll happen if you don’t?” Belinda shook her head, already smiling. “I’m going to plotz!” Belinda screamed in delight, which turned heads across the dining room. “No!” “Yes!” Aaron slung his arm around her, rocking her from side to side. “I’m going to plotz!” Belinda reacted with loud giggling. Neither seemed to care if they attracted attention. Their combined glee undid Travis’s restraint and he burst out laughing. “I think she wants to see you do it,” he told Aaron. “What does that even mean anyway?” “I’m not sure,” Aaron said. “My parents and grandma used Yiddish as a secret language we kids weren’t supposed to know. I think it means to explode. Or maybe to faint.” He shook his head, smiling. “Or maybe both. Or maybe it varies.” He nudged Belinda. 75

INK ILLUSIONS

“Finish your veggies.” “Okay.” She started sawing with her butter knife, hacking the broccoli down to size. In the next five minutes, they finished their food. Aaron checked his watch and gave Travis a regretful look. “We’re running out of time. That happens when we’re having fun.” He stroked Belinda’s hair, and it made Travis’s heart ache. Travis could tell Aaron had done it countless times before, as his parents had probably done to him, whereas Travis had spent the first seven years of his daughter’s life in prison. With no one to blame but himself. He caught himself wadding his napkin into a tight ball and smoothed it out again. “Belinda,” Aaron said, “remember how I said Travis is my friend?” “Boyfriend,” she said. “Well, yeah, maybe.” Aaron gave a flustered laugh. “That depends on him. Anyway, he’s something more to you than a friend. You know that, right? He’s your dad.” “No.” Belinda went rigid, gripping the table with one hand. “I won’t go with him!” Shocked, Travis sat still. Aaron wrapped his arm around Belinda, and she pressed against him in one panicked surge, almost climbing on his lap. He gave Travis a concerned look over the top of her disheveled hair. “You don’t have to go anywhere,” he told her. “After this, I’m taking you straight home to our house as always. But aren’t you curious to look at him?” She ventured a cautious stare from the safety of Aaron’s arms. Travis attempted a smile. “Have you ever seen eyes so blue or hair so blond?” Aaron asked her. “Not except in the mirror, right? You got half his DNA. 76

INK ILLUSIONS

Isn’t that the coolest thing in the world?” Belinda gave a reluctant nod. Travis got the impression the DNA part of the conversation had sailed right over her head, but she wanted to give Aaron the response he was hoping for. “You’re my dad,” she said to him. Travis closed his eyes, feeling like a knife had slid into his chest. In that instant, he hated Aaron, and hated himself even more. With effort, he made himself look at them. Aaron stared at him in guilt and sorrow. The tap-tap-tap sound of high heels reached them. Rosemary bustled up to their table, pointing at her watch and frowning. “I thought you said you’d be ready in ninety minutes.” Aaron put two twenties under the sugar dispenser and they all went out to wedge themselves into Rosemary’s grimy white car, where she continued to radiate anger. She started to pull out of the parking lot and a speeding truck almost sideswiped them. Rosemary slammed on the brakes. Travis managed to reduce a panicked burst of profanity to, “Damn it!” “Damn it,” Belinda echoed. “Hush!” Rosemary tossed her sunglasses in the glove compartment. “You want me to drive?” Aaron gave Travis a significant glance, nodding at Belinda. “No, I want you keep quiet,” Rosemary snapped. On the drive back to Travis’s apartment, no one said a word. Meanwhile, Travis thought about the look Aaron had given him, which implied that they’d made some progress with Belinda. His kid had just repeated what he’d said. That meant she was paying attention to him. Maybe a relationship between them wasn’t 77

INK ILLUSIONS

impossible. *

*

*

On Friday, July 1st, Rosemary brought her man Chad a step closer into Aaron’s life. She was allowing Chad to pick her up for a dinner date from Aaron’s house. This happened to be a first. Now she stood in the kitchen, wearing a red cocktail dress and a cloud of lilac perfume. She fumbled with both hands behind her neck to fasten the dainty gold clasp of her necklace. Aaron set down the spoon from the spaghetti sauce he was stirring and motioned Rosemary to turn around. He fit the clasp together, lifting the thin chain free of the wisps of hair along the back of her neck. “Nervous?” he whispered. “You’ve gone out with this guy before.” “Nervous you and Belinda don’t like him. Please, please give him a chance.” They kept their voices low so Belinda wouldn’t hear. She sat at the kitchen table with a pile of coloring books and her gargantuan crayon box with the one hundred colors. “I’m… trying,” Aaron said. “Really.” He wanted so much for her to welcome Travis into their lives, and he wished he could do better with Chad. Sometimes Rosemary reminded him of his sisters in high school, fretting over some boy not nearly good enough for them. Like his sisters, Rosemary stood several inches shorter than Aaron did, even when wearing her three-inch heels. He could almost rest his chin on top of her head as he used to do to tease his sisters, not that she’d put up with it. Rosemary said under her breath. “You’re not going to ask 78

INK ILLUSIONS

Travis over, right?” “Not until you’re okay with it.” “I’m sorry. I know it’s your house…” “You live here, too.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.” “You’re okay with watching Belinda tonight?” “Of course. It’ll be fun.” He called to Belinda, “We’ve got things to do, right?” At the kitchen table, she looked up, smiling. “I want to help cook dinner.” “You can taste stuff, okay?” Aaron said. “Tell me how you like the seasoning.” The doorbell rang, and Rosemary grabbed Aaron’s arm. “Be nice to him.” “Okay.” He tried to sound reassuring. “Let me get the door.” What did he know about this guy? Aaron considered topics of conversation. Rosemary said he was a new dentist in the medical complex where she worked, thirty-two, never married, and a deacon at his church. Aaron opened the front door to see Chad standing on the welcome mat, wearing slacks, an open-collared shirt, and a sports coat. Chad gave him a determined smile and shouldered his way inside. Pine-scented cologne wafted from his skin. “How are you, Chad?” Aaron offered his hand, and they shook. He’d guessed Chad might be the crushing handshake type. Instead, Chad did a quick release as if reluctant to touch him. When they reached the kitchen, Chad relaxed and sent a warm smile toward Rosemary. His gaze dropped to her plunging neckline. From three feet away, Aaron saw his pupils dilate. “Honey,” Chad said, “you look really good.” 79

INK ILLUSIONS

Smiling, Rosemary came to kiss him on the lips. Chad looked sheepish and scrubbed his fist over his mouth to remove any traces of her lipstick. He put his arm around Rosemary’s waist. At the table, Belinda started slamming her crayons back into the box almost hard enough to snap them. Whoa, Aaron thought. He went to turn down the spaghetti sauce. “Baby?” Chad gave Rosemary an apologetic look. “I think you look like a million bucks. But we’re meeting the assistant pastor for dinner, and he… You know how he is. He might not approve of this dress.” Rosemary looked startled. “Well, he can kiss my ass.” Chad turned red, and Aaron almost bit his tongue, trying not to laugh. He sat at the table to keep an eye on Belinda. She climbed on his lap, winding her arms around his neck. “I don’t like him,” she whispered in Aaron’s ear. “He’s a mamzer.” Caught by surprise, Aaron didn’t answer. He hadn’t taught Belinda that particular Yiddish word. It meant bastard, and he really couldn’t argue with her assessment. In fact, who was he kidding? When he and Chad had first met in the parking lot at Chad’s church, their mutual antipathy had been instantaneous, even without them exchanging a single word. Aaron tried to suppress the memory. Rosemary wanted his cooperation. Or at least his courtesy. “Don’t you have a sweater?” Chad asked Rosemary. “You could wear it over the dress.” “A sweater? In Houston? In July?” Rosemary laughed. “Okay, I’ll change into something else. Give me a moment.” She left the kitchen, trailing the faint scent of lilacs. Chad pulled out a chair and sat at the table. He waggled his 80

INK ILLUSIONS

fingers at Belinda, who peered at him from the shelter of Aaron’s arms. “Hi, kiddo.” Belinda didn’t answer, and Aaron didn’t require her to. His Grandma Sophie might have swatted him for not replying when he was that age. Of course, he’d never needed prompting at any age to talk. “I’m glad we have a few moments here,” Chad said. “Why is that?” He tried to keep his tone neutral for Rosemary’s sake. “I’ve been seeing Rosemary for about six months.” “I didn’t know that.” Aaron tried to hide his surprise. “She wanted to keep it secret at first so as not to disrupt your home life.” Chad hitched his chair closer. “However, I feel a sense of responsibility for this little one’s upbringing. I’ve heard the sad story about her dad, including his lifestyle choices, and I wouldn’t want her to witness anything unseemly.” “Unseemly?” Aaron repeated in disbelief. Chad looked uncomfortable. “Any blatant displays of affection between you and… him.” Aaron stared at him. “Oh, you can bet Rosemary’s going to hear about this.” “You might find she’s on my side.” “About the blatant displays of affection? The lifestyle choices? Don’t count on it.” “Well, you try being a single mom without a strong male partner to administer discipline and see how frustrated it makes you. Besides…” With a sidelong glance at Belinda, who was glaring at him, Chad recited, “‘You shall not lie with a male as with a woman. It is an abomination.’” “You’re sitting in my house, quoting Leviticus 18:22?” 81

INK ILLUSIONS

Chad looked astonished. “You know the Bible?” “I’m Jewish, Chad. It was our book before it was your book.” Rosemary’s heels clattered in the hallway. She reappeared wearing a blue dress with a modest neckline. “You boys having a chat?” She flashed an uneasy look at Aaron. “We’re done here,” Chad said to Rosemary. “Ready to go?” She tried to kiss Belinda, who scowled and hid her face against Aaron’s neck. Rosemary gave Aaron another troubled glance, but allowed Chad to lead her out the front door. As soon as it shut, Belinda squirmed off Aaron’s lap and threw her box of crayons. The colored wax cylinders flew everywhere, rolling across the linoleum as the box hit the refrigerator. “He’s a mamzer, a pisher, and a schmuck!” she screamed. “Whoa, whoa,” Aaron said. “Where’d you get that? I never taught you that word.” Belinda sobbed out some disjointed story about a new little friend, a Jewish kid, who had taught her some more Yiddish words. “And Chad’s a schmuck,” she finished, getting back on track. She wasn’t ready to let it go. “It’s true.” “Yeah, I know it’s true, but we don’t use that word in polite company. Okay?” Belinda looked relieved that someone took her seriously. “Okay.” She started gathering her crayons without him having to ask her to do so. She wiped her nose on her sleeve and then grabbed a tissue from the box Aaron offered. He went to the stove to check the spaghetti sauce. He tried to calm down, but Chad’s words continued to rankle. A strong male partner to administer discipline? Chad had implied that Rosemary felt frustrated. Did she confide in Chad? Where the hell did Chad get off, insinuating Aaron didn’t help Rosemary to keep Belinda in 82

INK ILLUSIONS

line? Belinda wasn’t Aaron’s kid. He had no right to raise a hand to her and neither did Chad. She wasn’t even a bad kid. He turned off the stove burner. “Belinda? You want to set the table?” “Okay.” She sounded subdued. “Did you feed the little guys yet?” He meant her two guinea pigs. “They’re girls, and I did that already.” Belinda paused. “But they wouldn’t mind a treat.” He got her talking about what movie she wanted to watch after dinner as he cut up some parsley and cauliflower for her pets. Meanwhile, he wondered if Rosemary found Belinda a handful to deal with on her own. What did he know about kids? In his extended family, Aaron had been the youngest. His relatives said he’d been a high-energy kid, cheerful, but outspoken. To his inexperienced eye, Belinda seemed buffeted by stormy moods he’d never had. She felt emotions more intensely than most kids did, and Aaron guessed she got that from Travis. But Travis said he’d been a shy kid, so Belinda’s urge to express herself must come from Rosemary. They sat down to their spaghetti dinner. Aaron asked, “Why don’t you like Chad?” “He’s going to take Mom away from me.” “That’s not going to happen.” “And he thinks he’s all big.” Belinda’s jaw took on a hard edge that Aaron recognized from Travis. “He thinks he’s my dad.” “You know Travis is your dad, right?” Belinda threw her fork on her plate, spraying tomato sauce. “You’re my dad!” “Okay, okay.” Aaron felt guilty, giving in, but she looked 83

INK ILLUSIONS

really upset. As she resumed eating, he decided to let the issue go. And Chad? Aaron fantasized about taking Chad apart at the boxing gym. He’d known he could do it from the moment he first saw Chad stand and move. Like many beefy guys, Chad didn’t know how to fight, depending on his size to intimidate. *

*

*

On Monday July 4th, Travis and Aaron attended two separate barbecues held by friends from Aaron’s job, and one fireworks party thrown by their mutual friends from Ink Illusions. They returned to Travis’s apartment for dinner and sex, and watched from the roof as more fireworks went off, lacing the sky all over Houston with colored light. Around ten, Travis drove Aaron back to his house. They were ecstatic with having spent the day together. Like teenagers, they couldn’t stop touching each other. Travis hoped they might sit outside in his truck a while and kiss, but Rosemary came out to invite them inside. They stood with Rosemary on the sidewalk as she hopped from one bare foot to the other. “Aaron!” She looked incandescent with excitement. “Chad and I had a wonderful day!” “That’s great!” Aaron sounded relaxed and sincere. “We did, too.” Rosemary reached out and squeezed Travis’s arm. The affectionate gesture startled him, and warmth flooded through his chest. Had she finally forgiven him for going to prison? Maybe she’d decided to let him back into Belinda’s life. He tried not to hope for too much. 84

INK ILLUSIONS

“I think Chad’s going to pop the question soon,” Rosemary said. Travis’s hands went cold, but Aaron’s smile never faltered. It might have even fooled Rosemary, or maybe she saw what she wanted to see. They ended up sitting in the kitchen, and Rosemary chattered like a teenager as Aaron made coffee. It felt strange to see her wearing another man’s striped pajama pants. Aaron’s gray sweatshirt looked huge on her. She’d rolled up the sleeves on her forearms as she used to do with Travis’s shirts. She described her Independence Day picnic with Chad’s church. Afterward, he’d taken her to spend time with his parents, who lived in the River Oaks community of Houston. Aaron and Travis exchanged a startled glance. It happened to be one of the wealthiest neighborhoods not just in Houston, but in Texas. “His mama showed me her wedding dress,” Rosemary said. “She had me try it on.” Travis and Aaron traded another worried glance that she interpreted as male confusion. “Trust me, guys. That’s a good thing. But enough about me. How are things are going with you? Now that you’re dating? Each other, I mean.” Travis resorted to an unintelligible grunt. Aaron managed to say, “Good. Yes. Thanks.” “Oh.” Rosemary gave a mischievous smile. “The thought of you two together? Very hot.” This wedding dress thing had her almost giddy. Travis wanted to crawl under the table. “No!” Aaron scolded, caught up in her enthusiasm. “Do not 85

INK ILLUSIONS

fantasize about us.” “You’re so easy to embarrass,” Rosemary said. “So give us a break.” Aaron set out three coffee mugs. She nudged the plate of cookies toward Travis. “Which of you gets to be on top?” “Rosemary!” Aaron burst out laughing. “For God’s sake!” Travis’s face heated. He stuffed a cookie in his mouth. “He does, right?” Rosemary nodded at Travis. She hung onto the seat of her chair, giggling as Aaron shook it, trying to dislodge her. Gods, they really were like brother and sister. Finally, she stood and pulled the chair away from Aaron. “You strike me as versatile, honey, but Travis? No way. I bet he pounds you into the mattress.” Travis dropped his face in his hands, which felt cool in comparison. Laughing, Aaron poured the coffee. “You don’t know that,” he told Rosemary. “Maybe I pound him into the mattress.” “Mom?” said a sleepy voice. They all froze, staring at Belinda, who stood barefoot in the kitchen doorway. She wore a white nightgown, and her face looked puffy with sleep beneath tangled blonde hair. “Oh, baby, did we wake you up?” Rosemary asked. Yawning, Belinda came up and tugged at the sleeve of his denim jacket. Travis watched her sidelong, afraid to move. “She wants you to pick her up,” Aaron said. Travis pushed back his chair. He wasn’t sure how to get Belinda to his lap and settled on hoisting her up like a sack of grain, his hands under her armpits the way his dad used to lift him. Half asleep, she snuggled against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. He thought he might start crying. “More coffee?” Aaron asked. 86

INK ILLUSIONS

Rosemary sat, giving Travis and Belinda an uneasy stare. “I just remembered,” Rosemary lowered her voice as she pushed her cup forward for Aaron to pour. “The little one has a school report due this Friday. She might need help.” “What’s it on?” Aaron asked. “She said somebody famous.” “When I did school reports, my parents wanted me to write about famous Jews.” “Like who?” “You tell me. You know about any famous Jews?” Travis cupped his hand over Belinda’s bare feet to warm them as he listened to their teasing banter. He realized they were stretching out the moment, allowing him time to hold his sleeping daughter, and their generosity made his heart ache. “Albert Einstein?” Rosemary said. “Steven Spielberg? Roman Greenberg?” “Ah, a boxing fan. Give this girl a cookie.” Smiling, she took one from the plate. “So who would you do your paper on?” “Don’t laugh. I liked gangsters.” “What? Like mobsters? Organized crime?” “Yeah, exactly like that. Like Bugsy Siegel.” “Who?” “Learn some western history, why don’t you? He and Meyer Lansky created Las Vegas. Or what about Murder, Inc.?” Rosemary stifled a giggle. “What’s that? A critique group for mystery writers?” “That’s I-N-C, period. Jewish hit men.” “Murder, Inc.? They were incorporated?” “I don’t know!” Aaron started laughing. “I was just a boy with 87

INK ILLUSIONS

a tendency to over-romanticize. Well, I had a small fascination with crime. Heists and stuff. Guys who outsmart the cops. It was very refreshing for me to read about Jewish criminals doing something more exciting than, say, embezzling.” “Somehow I doubt that’s what your parents had in mind,” Rosemary said. Travis sensed her attention shift away from Aaron on the word “parents” as she remembered her responsibilities as a mom. She touched Travis’s arm, and tension seeped into the room like cold air. She might have forgiven him—sort of—but she still worried about his influence on their daughter. “It’s late.” Rosemary reached for Belinda. “I should put her back to bed.” With a wrenching sense of loss, Travis allowed her to scoop Belinda off his lap. Rosemary shifted Belinda’s weight to her hip and carried his daughter out of the kitchen, fading into the darkness of the hall. Travis’s chest and lap felt light and empty, cooling where Belinda’s weight used to be. He rested his elbows on the table and rubbed the tears from his eyes, pretending sleepiness. Aaron walked him out to the porch, where Travis stopped him with a hand on his chest. “What about this wedding dress thing?” he asked. “You think she’s going to marry him?” “I don’t know,” Aaron said. “Well… you saw her now. She deserves to be happy.” Like us, Travis thought, trying to suppress his fear. He pulled Aaron close until their lips brushed in a delicious caress. He didn’t want to imagine Chad adding a legal dimension to his claim on Rosemary and Belinda. He backed Aaron against the screen door as they deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into Aaron’s mouth. Aaron sucked his 88

INK ILLUSIONS

tongue, making him moan. The screen door rattled as they shifted their combined weight against it. Aaron’s hands slid around to grip Travis’s ass through the jeans, and Travis couldn’t help smiling. When they broke apart, Travis drank in the sight of Aaron lit by the low-watt porch light. Aaron looked in a trance, lips swollen from kissing. His dark eyes glittered as he slid his hand down to adjust himself through his jeans. Travis almost blurted the three little words, but uncertainty stopped him. Maybe the time wasn’t right. “Call me,” he said, ashamed of how inadequate it sounded, and Aaron nodded.

89

INK ILLUSIONS

CHAPTER 6 As summer deepened toward autumn, the world seemed full of bad news. Hurricane Katrina flattened New Orleans like an atomic bomb. Travis spent the last weekend of August unable to tear himself away from the coverage on the television news. That wouldn’t happen to Galveston someday soon, would it? He sensed fate accelerating to smash into their lives. They were bringing it on with their actions—Chad, Rosemary, Belinda, Aaron, and him all exerting their desires and fears upon the web that bound them together now and into their mingled future. On Thursday, October 6th, Chad took Rosemary and Belinda out to dinner. Aaron seized the opportunity to have Travis in for steaks on the grill. Afterward, they sat in Aaron’s kitchen, drinking beer, and Travis mentioned his thoughts on fate. The hairs lifted on 90

INK ILLUSIONS

his neck as Aaron explained about the two High Holy Days. On Rosh Hashanah, which had just passed, God drafted everyone’s fate for the next year. On the Day of Atonement, still coming like a freight train, God sealed the verdict. So what happened during this interim? Could they shape their fates? Did it even matter if he saw God as Odin or Jehovah? He opened his mouth to ask Aaron. A car pulled into the driveway. The horn blared, as if someone blundered against it. They both stood out of a sudden instinct to defend themselves. Aaron brushed against the table, Travis’s beer bottle wobbled, and Aaron caught it with one hand. The car engine shut off. Travis’s heart sped up as a key rattled in the lock and the front door swung open. “I’m so sorry,” Rosemary said from the front hall. “I don’t know what came over her.” Chad muttered something Travis didn’t catch. The skin on his neck crawled as he recognized Belinda sniffling and breathing hard, trying to stifle her crying. The three of them burst into the kitchen and stopped short, staring at him and Aaron. Flushed and tense, Rosemary wore a hot-pink cocktail dress. Chad looked squatty and dark with rage. Belinda, awkward in a yellow sleeveless sundress, scanned for Aaron with wet, hopeless eyes. She’d lost one of her white sandals. Her upper arm, shoulder, and neck had gone the deep red that precedes bruising. Travis locked his gaze on Chad. His vision sharpened and his palms tingled. In his peripheral vision, he saw Belinda run to Aaron, who picked her up and held her face to his chest, covering her ear with his free hand. “What the hell, Rosemary?” Aaron shouted. “What 91

INK ILLUSIONS

did you let him do?” Rosemary looked on the verge of tears. “He didn’t mean to.” Travis stayed on his feet, but lost awareness. When he resurfaced, he had Chad slammed up against the wall, pinned beneath the press of his body. He put his forearm on the wall over Chad’s head. With his mouth on Chad’s ear, he said something he couldn’t hear past the roaring in his head. Chad wrenched free as sweat glittered on his face. He slid past Rosemary and hurried down the hall. The front door slammed behind him. “Oh, my God.” Rosemary covered her mouth with her hand. “Travis.” “What did I do?” His face felt cold and his voice sounded hoarse. He could almost taste the metallic odor of sweat all over his skin. “I kind of grayed out. I don’t know what I did.” “You leaned on him and you said something. Don’t worry about it.” The strain in Aaron’s voice undercut his casual words. He sat at the table, lifting Belinda to his lap. “Rosemary, what happened at dinner?” Belinda clung to his neck, and he stroked her hair. “This should be the happiest day of my life.” Rosemary’s voice shook. “What happened?” Aaron asked. “Chad took us to dinner.” She named the most expensive steakhouse in Houston. “He proposed. And Belinda threw the worst tantrum I’ve ever seen. Right there at the table in front of everybody. And he, he…” Travis spotted the gold band on Rosemary’s left hand. His heart seemed to stop. “I meant to surprise you with the news.” She stuck out her hand, thumbing around the diamond she’d concealed in her palm. 92

INK ILLUSIONS

It blazed, looking big as a cherry pit. “What do you think?” “I…” Aaron looked at a complete loss for words. “It’s… tasteful.” “Yeah, if you like ’em big and vulgar,” Travis said. “You sure it’s a real diamond?” Rosemary gave him a scathing look. He stared back, almost choking on his jealousy and fear and self-hatred. She pulled Belinda down off Aaron’s lap and led her by the hand out of the kitchen. “Put her to bed,” Aaron called after them. “Give her a teaspoon of Children’s Motrin and ice her shoulder.” “I know how to take care of my kid,” Rosemary said. Travis went to the sink and splashed a handful of water on his face. He groped for the paper towels and scrubbed his face dry as his stomach started to settle. He couldn’t forget the sight of his kid, sniffling and in pain after Chad had hurt her. He couldn’t stop hearing Rosemary’s shattering news. He proposed. “What did I say to Chad?” he asked. “Don’t worry. I covered Belinda’s ears. She didn’t hear.” “What did I say?” “If he touched your kid again, you’d cut off his cock and balls and make him eat them.” Travis couldn’t meet Aaron’s accusing stare. He blurted, “I didn’t mean it.” “Yes, you did,” Aaron said. “I’m all for putting Chad in his place, but you went too far. You scared the crap out of me and Rosemary. Not to mention Chad. I thought he was going to piss himself right here in my kitchen.” “What do you expect me to say?” Anger tore through Travis like a lightning bolt. “That’s my kid. And he puts a huge bruise 93

INK ILLUSIONS

over half her arm, and her own mother excuses him? Somebody has to defend Belinda.” “I can defend her, too,” Aaron said. “You don’t have to do it alone.” “I know.” Travis choked out the words. “I’m sorry.” “You didn’t see yourself. You moved on Chad like a killing machine.” Aaron approached, watching him with deep concern. “Are you going to do that to me someday?” “Never. Not to you, Belinda, Rosemary, my parents, or Karl. Everybody else, I’m not sure.” “You need to see somebody,” Aaron said. “I’ll go with you, but you need counseling.” “I don’t have time,” Travis burst out. “You heard Rosemary. She’s going to marry him.” “We need to convince Rosemary to come with us to a lawyer to work out a fair custody agreement. I’ll pay for it. Who cares? It’s just money. But if she marries Chad, and we don’t have anything legal in place, it’s going to make things worse for us and Belinda.” “Texas child custody laws favor the mother,” Travis said. “We’re so screwed.” “I’m not giving up,” Aaron said. “Are you?” “You’ve never been in prison,” Travis said. “So you wouldn’t know that the most fearful guys are the most dangerous. Chad is full of fear. I suspect he really loves Rosemary, and thinks he’ll lose her if he doesn’t help with the parenting. But he doesn’t like Belinda at all. You see the potential for harm? You really want me to let my kid go for a weekend at Chad’s place?” “No, but she’s Rosemary’s kid, too.” “Yeah, love is blind. You heard her excusing Chad for mauling Belinda.” 94

INK ILLUSIONS

“We need to be careful,” Aaron said. “If we take Belinda down to Galveston for a visit with her grandparents and we don’t clear it with Rosemary first, we could get arrested for kidnapping. You want to take that chance with your criminal record?” “My criminal record? Could you find a worse way to put it?” Aaron kept his gaze steady on Travis. “I’m trying to get through to you.” Travis sensed they had diverged. Would he have to fight Aaron now as well? Or come up with a plan of action for Belinda that didn’t include Aaron? The thought almost made him stagger with exhaustion. He pressed a clumsy kiss along Aaron’s jaw. “I have to go home and sleep.” “Call me,” Aaron said. “Call me first thing tomorrow.” Travis nodded, already dreading it. He couldn’t bear to deceive Aaron and hold things back from him, but he no longer felt he had a choice. *

*

*

The next day, Friday, happened to be Rosemary’s established day to spend with Chad. Ordinarily, Aaron would take over parenting duties, but it also happened to be a half-day at Belinda’s school, so he’d arranged for Travis to pick her up, bring her home, and stay with her until he could get off work. He’d even cleared it with Rosemary, who had looked uneasy, but had given her permission so long as Aaron took over babysitting that evening. He arrived home to find a note from Travis folded and taped to his screen door. Aaron read, Belinda is safe with me. I’m taking her away from here. She needs me more than I need you. I’m sorry and I love you. 95

INK ILLUSIONS

The declaration of love would have thrilled him just five minutes earlier. Now, it dropped into the back of his mind, overwhelmed by the words, I’m taking her away from here. The full impact of Travis’s decision came like a punch to the solar plexus— a breathless spasm of the diaphragm that left Aaron stunned. He put the note in the pocket of his suit jacket and went to Belinda’s bedroom, which stood silent and empty. Dust motes drifted in the late afternoon sunlight pouring through a gap in the flowered curtains. Aaron sat on her bed and took his cell phone from his jacket pocket. He found himself rubbing his chest with his free hand, as if trying to keep himself breathing. His speed dial rang Travis’s cell phone several times until a robotic recording informed him that this phone customer had not yet set up a voice mailbox. A scuffling noise drew his attention. The guinea pigs stared from their pen, looking anxious. Aaron refilled their water and food. He couldn’t think and his hands were cold. Travis had thrown away everything by kidnapping Belinda—Rosemary’s trust, Ink Illusions, his relationship with Aaron, and his future outside of prison. Someone pulled up in the driveway. Aaron swore as he recognized the high-powered engine of Chad’s SUV. He’d hoped for Travis. Rosemary and Chad, laughing together, came into the kitchen. She held her shoes, one heel broken off, and must have dropped by to replace them. She and Chad stopped short when they saw Aaron. “Where’s Belinda?” Fear flared in Rosemary’s eyes. “Why aren’t you fixing her dinner?” “Belinda’s fine.” Aaron tried to sound reassuring. “She’s with Travis.” 96

INK ILLUSIONS

“What do you mean she’s with Travis? He picked her up from school and took her somewhere?” Rosemary’s shoes slipped from her grip, clattering to the floor, and she kicked them aside. “He kidnapped her?” “Call the cops,” Chad said. Who handled situations like this? The Houston police department? The Highway Patrol? The FBI? The Texas Rangers? “No cops,” Aaron said. “I can find her.” “I’m calling the cops.” Chad turned to go for the wall phone. Panic made Aaron step into his path, even as he sensed he’d pushed Chad too far. Chad’s right hand shot out so fast Aaron’s brain froze and his training took over. He slipped Chad’s fist, which grazed his face, and connected with a right uppercut that almost took Chad’s head off. Pain flared in his fist as Chad’s chin snapped back. Rosemary let out a stifled scream, and Aaron tried to stop, but he’d already followed with a left hook, as trained, slamming his fist into Chad’s face. Chad staggered, tipping like a felled tree toward the kitchen table. Panting with shock, Rosemary and Aaron both surged forward to catch him. They guided him into the living room where they draped him on the sofa. Aaron propped Chad’s head on a throw pillow. Blood streamed from Chad’s nose, and Rosemary ran to the kitchen for a damp dishrag, which she tossed through the doorway to Aaron. He heard her rummaging in the freezer, putting together an ice pack. Aaron handed the dishrag to Chad, who pressed it to his nose. He took the tiny flashlight from his keychain and shone it in Chad’s eyes, checking his pupil dilation for signs of concussion. Chad squinted as Rosemary returned with his ice pack. “Get that light out of my eyes.” His voice sounded thick 97

INK ILLUSIONS

through his swelling nose. “You just jumped at the chance to sucker-punch me. I bet you’ve been dying to do it.” He batted away the ice pack that Rosemary tried to hand him. “I’m pressing charges for assault and battery.” Aaron claimed the ice pack, pressing it to the aching knuckles of his right fist. His left fist felt scraped and hot, but his right might have sustained a small fracture. Not for nothing did they wrap their hands and wear gloves in the boxing gym. “You can try,” he said. “You swung at me first, and I have a witness.” “Rosemary will back me up,” Chad said. “Right, baby?” “Will you idiots rearrange your priorities?” Rosemary burst out. “My daughter’s missing.” She fumbled with the lid on a bottle of ibuprofen and passed it to Aaron. He dry-swallowed two tablets and offered the bottle to Chad. “Go to hell,” Chad told him. He squinted at Rosemary. “Call the cops.” “Rosemary, please!” Aaron held her gaze. “I’m begging you here. Don’t do this to Travis. Give me a chance to find Belinda. Give me just one day.” She swallowed hard. “Tell me everything you know about this.” Aaron did, and even showed her Travis’s note. “He did this on impulse. I guarantee it. He hasn’t thought any of this through and that’s why he’s not answering his phone. He’s ashamed and scared and he knows we’re going to catch up with him. He’d never compromise Belinda’s safety. You know that.” “But what if she runs away from him in some strange city? What if he tries to leave the country with her?” Panic tightened Rosemary’s voice. “I might never see her again. I know women who have been through this, who’ve been trying to find their kids 98

INK ILLUSIONS

for years.” “We can find her,” Aaron said. “Odds are he went to his parents in Galveston. Let’s call the Jakobsens right now.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “You want me to do it?” “I’ll do it,” Chad volunteered from the sofa. “Give it to me.” Rosemary took the phone. “Wait.” Chad sat up, touching his nose, which had stopped bleeding. “What if his parents are hiding him? A phone call would give him time to get away. Let’s drive to Galveston tomorrow and surprise them.” “I’m going now,” Rosemary said. “You think I can sleep tonight with my kid missing?” “We’ll go with you,” Aaron said. “But let’s stop at Travis’s place here in Houston. I have a key and we might find something important.” With the anger he felt toward Travis, he’d have no problem tearing up the apartment, looking for clues to his destination. “No,” Rosemary said. “I’m going straight to Galveston.” “You and Chad start driving, and I’ll meet you at the Jakobsens’ house. I’ll be no more than twenty minutes behind you.” Aaron drew a tight breath. “I have a lot of experience negotiating. You want to wait until I show up before talking to them?” Rosemary gave him an indignant look. Chad rolled his eyes in disbelief. “At least promise not to call the cops. Not until we check out the situation in Galveston.” “Until then, and we’ll see,” Rosemary said. *

* 99

*

INK ILLUSIONS

As afternoon tipped toward evening, Travis sat with Belinda in a sandwich shop in Austin. They had traveled about a hundred and sixty miles west of Houston, but he still felt nervous. At least Belinda seemed to be enjoying herself as she ate potato salad, staring out the window at people strolling past on the sidewalk. Travis’s heart overflowed with gratitude toward Aaron. Without Aaron’s influence, Belinda wouldn’t have learned to trust him. He wondered if Rosemary had called the cops yet. “You want a refill on your soda?” he asked. “Okay.” Belinda used her straw to stir up the crushed ice in her cup. “Shouldn’t we call Mom?” “She knows we’re visiting Karl.” Travis hated himself as he lied. He wondered where they’d be in a few more weeks… say, by Christmas. He might be back in prison if he wasn’t careful. “Do you do Christmas?” he asked Belinda. “Or Hanukkah?” “We do both.” She finished her sandwich. “Aaron puts Christmas lights on the house. He won’t let me climb up and help.” “No kidding?” Travis pictured Aaron, hanging Christmas lights for Belinda. It made his heart ache with a confused rush of love and sorrow. “Hanukkah? Do you do any other Jewish… stuff?” Gods, he was so ignorant. He didn’t know about the traditions. “We do Passover Seder.” “What do you have to do?” She thought about it. “We eat dinner.” “Oh.” He waited, but more details were not forthcoming. “Cool.” “Do you do Christmas?” she asked. “I never have. I mean, we could if you wanted to, but I’m not a Christian.” Travis wondered how to explain his religion, or if she even wanted to know. But she waited for an explanation, her gaze 100

INK ILLUSIONS

steady on his face. He pulled his rune stones from his jeans pocket. His mother had sent them to him in prison, and he’d carried them every day since, though they looked too pretty for his liking. He couldn’t picture a battle-scarred Viking warrior consulting the stones in their velveteen bag, not without snickering at the image. He’d been meaning to fashion a more rugged set of rune stones out of antler or carved wood. Now he poured the rune stones to the tabletop, and Belinda’s gaze riveted to their sparkly spill. Polished citrine, each bore an Elder Futhark rune etched on its surface and finished with gold metallic paint. “Ooooh!” Belinda said. It came as no surprise to Travis to recognize the vertical slash of Isa on the rune stone that fell closest to him. It meant ice, a warning to freeze one’s activities for a better time. He had seen it often in the past few days when he cast the runes for guidance. Why couldn’t he get one of the more positive runes like Gifu or Sigel? “What are they for?” Belinda asked. “Forecasting the future. Figuring out what to do.” “Really?” She touched the blank rune, Wyrd. “What about this one?” Travis felt a chill brush down his spine. Wyrd, which represented the void, operated on the level of the major arcana cards in the tarot. It signified great forces at work. “Its message changes based on the surrounding runes. It could mean you’ve been noticed by the gods and they’re stepping in to change your future.” Belinda pulled back her hand, looking nervous. Travis didn’t want to scare her. He scooped up the runes, pouring them into their 101

INK ILLUSIONS

bag. “You keep these.” A big smile broke out across her face. “Really?” “Sure. Now, what do you want to do? We have an hour to see Austin before we should find Karl. You want to go shopping or what?” Travis realized he’d just resorted to bribing her to stay on her good side. Kids always took advantage of attempts at bribery. He knew he had. Belinda gave him a calculating look. “I want a haircut.” “No way. Really?” Travis found haircuts a huge bother. Belinda tugged at one of her unraveling braids. “I hate having long hair. I don’t like getting it wet, and I’m always cold after a bath. Besides, it hurts and takes forever for Mom to comb out all the tangles. But she won’t let me cut it.” Her voice dropped to a guilty murmur. “I once put bubblegum in my hair so she’d cut it, but she got it all out with peanut butter.” “Peanut butter?” Travis burst out laughing. “Yeah.” Belinda started to grin. “She put the peanut butter in my hair with a toothbrush.” Travis thought about Rosemary, who liked to dress up Belinda in pink and white like a little doll and fuss over curling her hair. Meanwhile, Belinda liked to climb trees and play sports, which got her clothes covered in grime and her hair full of twigs and grass. He shrugged. Rosemary was already going to kill him. “Let’s go get you a haircut.” *

*

*

By the time Aaron got to Galveston, his right hand had settled to a dull ache. His first two fingers were swollen around the knuckles. He pulled up to the Jakobsens’ house, surprised to see 102

INK ILLUSIONS

Rosemary sitting on their front porch steps. She hurried to the car and got in. “The Jakobsens claimed to know nothing.” Her lips trembled, her face pale and weary. “They made us leave so they could go to their restaurant. Chad and I had a fight, and he left me here.” “You’re kidding. He left you here?” “We argued all the way down from Houston.” Tears welled in Rosemary’s eyes and she fumbled in her purse for a tissue. “He said it wasn’t working between us anymore. That I had too much baggage with my child and my ex-boyfriend and you.” Stunned, Aaron put his arm around her and tried to draw her close. She resisted, struggling to regain her composure. Finally, she huddled against him. He took a deep breath. “Chad broke off the engagement?” “Yes and no.” Rosemary’s voice tightened. “He left me here as a power play. I’m breaking off the engagement because he’s obviously unreliable and manipulative. I’m not going to marry anyone who’d kick me out of a car fifty-five miles from home.” She tugged at the engagement ring. “I can’t even get this thing off my finger.” Aaron found a small bottle of hand sanitizer in his jacket pocket and poured some on her ring finger. The emotions crowding in his heart made hard to speak—anger at Chad, sadness for her, and a huge sense of relief. It seemed wrong to rejoice that she wasn’t going to marry Chad. He worked the ring past her knuckle and handed it to her. Rosemary clenched it in her fist and stared out the window. “I’m sorry,” Aaron said. “No, you’re not.” Her watery smile took the sting out of her words. 103

INK ILLUSIONS

“You deserve better.” “Let’s not talk about it now. I want my kid back.” “We’ll go to the Jakobsens’ restaurant,” Aaron said. “I won’t leave until they tell me where Travis and Belinda are. You’ve never seen me closing a sale, Rosemary. I’m unstoppable.” “Okay, but first I want to throw this ring into the Gulf of Mexico.” By now, Aaron didn’t even need directions to drive them to Seawall Boulevard. He parked and they descended concrete steps past the concave seawall to the beach where families strolled, wearing cut-off jeans and T-shirts. He and Rosemary both looked extravagantly overdressed for the beach, especially him, though he’d left his suit jacket in the car. She led him to one of the stone jetties that erupted from the sand, stretching into the water like a spinal column of huge granite blocks. Between the stepping-stones, the sea gurgled in crevices wide enough to swallow a man’s leg. Aaron took a cautious step as grains of sand rolled, trapped between his dress shoes and the stone, making his footing unstable. The breeze tugged at his tie and ruffled the hem of Rosemary’s skirt. She strode onward in her high heels, keeping to the middle blocks. Farther out, water slapped over the glistening blocks to either side, streaking them with slimy seaweed. Rosemary went to the end of the jetty where the sea spread out past them, glinting like pewter under the hazy sky. Where the waves broke, it had a brownish hue crested with white. Gulls swooped overhead as she stared south, holding her engagement ring in her fist. To the east, the majestic Flagship Hotel rose from atop the Pleasure Pier, built entirely over the water. “You don’t just want to sell the damn thing on eBay?” Aaron 104

INK ILLUSIONS

asked. “It wouldn’t be as satisfying.” She threw the ring out over the water. A seagull swooped and grabbed at the sparkly object. Aaron and Rosemary both cried out in warning, not wanting the silly creature to swallow it, but the gull seemed to recognize the ring’s worthlessness as food. It banked away, and Aaron lost sight of the glittery bit, plummeting toward the brownish sea. They picked their way back down the jetty as two fishermen approached, loaded with gear. Rosemary huddled against Aaron, and he kept his arm around her shoulders, shielding her from their curious glances. He guided her back to the car, where they sat for a moment without speaking before preparing to meet the Jakobsens. Aaron ran a comb through his hair, donned his suit jacket, straightened the knot in his tie, and checked his appearance in the rearview mirror. Rosemary dabbed at her bloodshot eyes. He offered a vial of eye drops, which she tilted her head back to use. “Very handy. Anything so I can fix my face?” He passed her an antiseptic cleansing wipe in its foil packet. “This is all I’ve got. Don’t get it near your eyes. Its active ingredient is benzalkonium chloride.” “Whatever you say.” Rosemary washed her face in careful strokes, finishing with a dry tissue. She dumped the contents of her handbag in her lap and reapplied her makeup in seconds. “Ready.” “Anything I should know about the Jakobsens?” he asked. “Are they homophobic? Anti-Semitic? Do they hate sales reps or anyone younger than forty?” “What if they were all those things?” “Are they?” “No, I don’t think so, but what if they were?” 105

INK ILLUSIONS

“I can work with whatever I get, but the more advance warning, the better.” Privately, he realized he had a tendency to over-inflate his own abilities. He hadn’t felt like himself since he’d found that goodbye note from Travis. At the Seawall Boulevard Restaurant, Rosemary glanced past the hostess and pointed out Mrs. Jakobsen sitting in a back booth, rolling flatware into paper napkins for place settings and putting each in a flat wicker basket. She’d only completed a few. As the hostess led them over, Mrs. Jakobsen put her cell phone to her ear to make a call. Aaron realized she must be calling everyone in the family, trying to track down Travis. Mrs. Jakobsen’s eyes widened as she recognized Rosemary. She pocketed her cell phone and asked the hostess, “Would you mind telling Kenny Lee to come out here?” “I’ll let him know.” The woman hurried toward the kitchen. Mrs. Jakobsen sized them up. “Rosemary? I just met your fiancé, so who is this?” Her pale gaze took in Aaron’s rumpled suit. “Your lawyer?” “No, ma’am,” Aaron said. Even after years in the south, he still felt self-conscious using such honorifics, as if he were pretending to be in the military. He blamed his casual Las Vegas upbringing. “My name is Aaron Goldhirsch.” It almost killed him not offer his hand as he would to another man, but etiquette mandated she make the first move. Apparently, they were not destined to shake hands. Mrs. Jakobsen sat motionless, pinning him with a cold stare. “I’m a friend of the family,” he added. “Whose family?” Her eyes narrowed. “Yours.” Aaron gave her a hopeful smile. “I know your son. 106

INK ILLUSIONS

May we join you?” Without waiting for permission, Rosemary slid onto the bench seat, facing Mrs. Jakobsen, and Aaron wasted no time joining her. They probably had only seconds to work on Travis’s mom before his dad showed up. Mrs. Jakobsen slapped her latest place setting into the wicker tray. “I’m very busy.” “Let me help,” Aaron said. He whipped out his bottle of hand sanitizer and scrubbed his hands before taking a paper napkin from the opened pack at her elbow. Mrs. Jakobsen stared, and he tried to ignore how much she reminded him of Travis, and even more of Belinda, with her pale hair and eyes. Aaron plucked a knife, fork, and spoon from the canisters lined up next to her wicker basket. “Don’t bother if you don’t know how,” Mrs. Jakobsen snapped, which caused Rosemary to freeze with her hand halfway to the napkin pack, looking guilty. “I worked in a diner through high school,” Aaron said. “I could do this in my sleep.” He folded the napkin into a triangle, then rolled the knife, fork, and spoon halfway up before tucking in the side points. He finished the bundle and placed it in the wicker basket. Mrs. Jakobsen rolled another one even faster. Oh, she wanted to get competitive? He could do competitive. Aaron started to match her speed on his next one, but managed to rein himself in. It wouldn’t help them get on her good side if he tried to outdo her. “You’re not from here,” Mrs. Jakobsen said. “I can’t place you from your voice.” “I grew up in Nevada.” “Oh, really? In Sin City?” She sounded unimpressed. “You know, Vegas became the big-deal gambling resort that Galveston 107

INK ILLUSIONS

should’ve been. Thanks to organized crime.” “Aren’t you glad?” Aaron said. “Would you really want this charming town to have become just another Atlantic City?” She almost smiled. He put another place setting into the basket. He and Mrs. Jakobsen had already amassed a respectable pile. “I remember you.” Her tone began to thaw. “You were at the Maskers Dance.” “Yes, ma’am.” Aaron kept on rolling place settings since she showed no signs of stopping. “You didn’t know it, but I came with Rosemary’s invitation. I’ve lived with her and your granddaughter in Houston for the past few years.” “You’re her boyfriend?” Her gaze jumped to Rosemary. “But what about your fiancé?” Just then, Mr. Jakobsen hurried up to the table, wiping his wet hands on his jeans. He had his shirtsleeves turned back on his rawboned wrists and looked as if he’d come straight from cooking at the grill. Aaron recognized Travis’s height and narrow, handsome face in his father. “Sir.” He stood up from the booth and offered his hand. “I’m Aaron Goldhirsch.” Mr. Jakobsen doled out a crushing handshake. “Rosemary’s lawyer?” Aaron tried to look nonchalant as his knuckles throbbed. “No, sir. I know your son.” “Really?” Mr. Jakobsen dropped his hand with a sarcastic laugh. “From prison?” Aaron gave him a polite smile. “He and I met on Mardi Gras night.” With a squinty stare, Mr. Jakobsen nodded toward the booth. “Sit down.” 108

INK ILLUSIONS

Once they both were settled, Aaron said, “I’m not a lawyer. I work in pharmaceutical sales. I’ve known Rosemary and Belinda for the past three years. I don’t want to cause your son any trouble. I just want Belinda returned to her mother.” He paused to scan the Jakobsens, who looked confused and uneasy. As a gesture of good will, he rolled another place setting. Their gazes followed his hand as he placed it on the wicker tray. Mrs. Jakobsen had Travis’s pale blue eyes, and Mr. Jakobsen had heavy-lidded hazel eyes. Mr. Jakobsen said, “You’re on her side against our son.” Rosemary said, “I’m not against Trav—” “There are no sides,” Aaron cut in. “I swear to God, we don’t want to harm Travis.” “How do you know my son, Mr. Goldhirsch?” Mrs. Jakobsen asked. “I… we’re close friends.” “Really? Only since Mardi Gras night?” Mr. Jakobsen flushed, lowering his voice. “Are you his lover?” The question caught Aaron flatfooted. Of course, the Jakobsens must suspect something. He wanted to tell the truth, but he didn’t feel right outing Travis to his parents. “You should ask your son that question.” “Well, he’s not here.” Mr. Jakobsen’s eyes flashed. “So I’m asking you.” “That information isn’t mine to give.” Aaron tried to pick his way, word by word, through the potential emotional minefield. “Therefore, I’m not prepared to provide it either by confirming or denying what you imply.” Mrs. Jakobsen gave him a scorching look of contempt. Mr. Jakobsen shook his head in irritated bafflement. “You sure you’re 109

INK ILLUSIONS

not a lawyer?” “What is wrong with you two?” Rosemary said. “Who cares what Aaron is to Travis? He’s trying to help, and I would trust him with my child’s life. That should mean something.” “Oh, you trust him with Belinda?” Mrs. Jakobsen burst out. “Him and not us? Is that why you shut us out?” Her voice started to rise like an approaching storm. “You trust this slick young man from Sin City, wearing his imported, expensive suit? With his wavy hair and pretentious way of speaking and obnoxious profession? And his inability to answer a simple question?” “Ma’am, Mrs. Jakobsen, please,” Aaron managed to say. My wavy hair? Mrs. Jakobsen slammed her fist on the table, rattling the flatware in their containers. Aaron and Rosemary flinched. He stared at the tattoo on her forearm, which looked like a snowflake, but somehow martial as well. “I’ll you the truth, which is what I told you before,” Mrs. Jakobsen said. “I don’t know where Travis is. He didn’t contact us, and I don’t think he will. I didn’t know anything about this until you, Rosemary, showed up today with your irritating fiancé. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have work to do.” Aaron covered her fist with his hand, pinning it to the tabletop. “I’m Travis’s lover.” With wide, shadowed eyes, Mrs. Jakobsen stared at him. Aaron let words spill out on instinct. “I want to bring him and Belinda home and keep them out of trouble. I know why you’re angry and hurting. He didn’t contact me either. He didn’t trust me enough to let me help him.” Travis’s father leaned away, drawing his hands off the table, as if homosexuality might be contagious. Mrs. Jakobsen bit her lip, 110

INK ILLUSIONS

her gaze searching Aaron’s face. He pulled out his wallet and put two photos in front of her, as if dealing cards in blackjack. He always carried these images of Belinda. One showed her with her guinea pigs. The other caught her in close-up as Rosemary braided her hair. “For gods’ sake”—Mrs. Jakobsen picked up both photos—“she looks like Travis.” “Even more like you.” Mr. Jakobsen leaned against her shoulder to see. “Keep them,” Aaron said. “I’ve been calling everyone,” Mrs. Jakobsen said. “I have no idea where Travis is.” Aaron had a sudden intuition. “What about Karl?” “He’s not picking up his phone.” “Let’s go to his apartment.” From there, things happened fast. Mr. Jakobsen stayed at the restaurant, while Mrs. Jakobsen led Aaron and Rosemary to Karl Jakobsen’s apartment, where Travis had brought Aaron on Mardi Gras night. Mrs. Jakobsen let them in with a spare key. “Karl?” she called into the stillness. The living room remained as cluttered as Aaron remembered. In the tiny kitchen, clean dishes were stacked in a dish rack in the sink. An aquarium rumbled on the far counter. A swarm of tiny fish darted amidst the rocks and swaying plants. Karl had left a handwritten note anchored to the kitchen table with a big jar of fish flakes. “Instructions for his neighbor to feed his fish.” Mrs. Jakobsen scanned the note. “He went to an Asatru retreat, but he didn’t leave directions. Just a phone number. He’s written here that he might be hard to reach.” 111

INK ILLUSIONS

“An Asatru retreat?” Rosemary looked overwhelmed. Aaron knew how she felt. A lot had happened on top of a full workday for them both. “You think Travis took Belinda there to find Karl?” “I’ve met Karl,” Aaron said. “I get the impression he and Travis are very close.” He took out his cell phone and punched in the phone number on Karl’s note. It rang three times and a recorded message said he had reached a business afterhours. “It’s a furniture shop.” He tried to pronounce the name he’d heard. Mrs. Jakobsen gave an amused smile. “The Yggdrasil Handcrafted Furniture Shop in Austin. It’s named after the World Tree that connects to the realm of the gods.” Aaron remembered the huge tree tattooed on Travis’s back. Yggdrasil. “I know these people,” Mrs. Jakobsen said. “They’re active in the pagan community, and it looks like they’re helping to screen calls and relay messages.” She set down the note. “At a retreat, no one is allowed to take phone calls. I’m sure Karl and maybe Travis and Belinda are at a nearby location.” “Aaron,” Rosemary said, “they’re in Austin. That’s almost four hours’ drive.” *

*

*

That evening, Travis took refuge in the great hall of Glaðsheimr with Karl. The mansion had been custom-built to Texas proportions by the middle-aged couple leading the Asatru retreat and it featured a flagstone floor and elaborately painted wooden beams across the high ceiling. If Travis craned his neck and focused by the low light cast by several camouflaged electric 112

INK ILLUSIONS

lamps, he could make out some of the images on the beams, which depicted the foretold events of Ragnarök, the doom of the gods. Karl nudged him. “Spooky, huh?” “Kind of.” Travis took a sip of homemade beer. “But this tastes better than I would’ve thought.” Even if he did have to drink out of a wooden tankard. After midnight, guests continued to wander around, most in medieval costume, murmuring in small groups. He and Karl sat together on a magnificent high-backed bench, one of four scattered near the fireplace with its raised brick hearth. In northern Europe, they might have cast logs on a roaring fire. In Austin, however, the temperature almost never dropped below freezing. Earlier, the fireplace had been filled with a breathtaking display of tall white pillar candles placed in tiers, which shed an enchanting light without generating too much heat. Now the candles flickered low. Belinda lay in a dead sleep across a nearby bench, her head resting on one of the many embroidered throw pillows dotting the benches and floor. Karl had draped a woolen cloak over her as a blanket, hiding the neat, shorn line of her new, boyish haircut. Travis knew he should carry Belinda to Karl’s assigned room. He and Karl planned to stretch out on the floor and let her have a good night’s sleep in the single narrow bed. However, he couldn’t go to sleep, not when he felt so much anxiety. Not when he still owed Karl an explanation. “So what happened?” Karl asked. “I’m glad to meet Belinda— another cousin for me, right? But I’m guessing this is bigger than, say, you breaking up with Aaron. Hey, if you’re not with him anymore, you mind if I make a move?” “Yes, I mind!” Travis swatted him with a throw pillow. 113

INK ILLUSIONS

Karl grabbed the pillow. “Tell me one thing.” He glanced at Belinda’s slumbering form and lowered his voice. “Which one of you bottoms?” Travis flushed, trying to sound nonchalant. “He does.” “Oh, wow.” Karl squashed the pillow down on his lap. He reached beneath it to adjust himself. “You lucky, lucky bastard.” “No,” Travis said. Dread sank through him. “He won’t want to see me again.” He took a last sip of beer for courage and explained everything to his cousin. Karl’s face reflected astonishment, concern, and growing anger. “Dude, what a terrible thing to do to Aaron and Rosemary. You kidnapped your kid? Does Aunt Veronica know where you are? Have you even explained anything to Belinda?” “No,” Travis whispered, crushed with shame. “You lied to your kid?” Karl stared at him. “No mead for you in Valhalla.” “Karl, don’t turn against me.” “If I thought you were in danger, I’d go on the run with you.” Color rose in Karl’s face. “I’d try to protect you. As it is, I could kick your ass all the way to Galveston. I bet Aaron is looking for you right now. He and Rosemary wouldn’t call the cops, and you know it. You did all this to make Rosemary break up with her boyfriend.” “I did this for Belin—” “That’s not the truth. Close, but not quite.” “I did it to save myself!” Travis said. “I’m scared I’ll end up back in prison. Protecting my family is my weakness. If I stay in Houston with my hands tied, and Chad hurts my kid again, I’ll kill him. I’ll end up back inside for first-degree murder.” “Don’t throw that word around.” 114

INK ILLUSIONS

“I’m not. No one knows what I did in prison. I joined the Aryan gangs.” “Survival, man.” Karl’s tone turned compassionate. “Don’t look back.” Travis’s stomach clenched. He had never discussed his prison years—not even with Karl, who must have visited him almost four hundred times during his incarceration. At Travis’s insistence, Karl had done all the talking—speaking of Galveston, the family, and the outside world, while Travis drank it in like a plant starved for water. Now Travis blurted, “My cellmate was a murderer, and I was terrified of him, but I couldn’t afford to show it. He couldn’t read past a second-grade level. To get along with him, I’d read to him. You wouldn’t believe the whacked-out propaganda he got in the mail. All about the mud people and the Jewish conspiracies, and I’d explain it to him.” “Dude…” Karl sounded shaken. He slung his arm around Travis. “What if Aaron knew?” Travis started shaking hard at the thought of losing him. “Prison put a hook in me. It’s going to reel me back sooner or later. And there’s more. I joined the Aryan gangs for protection, but they don’t take you just because you’re white…” He almost couldn’t force out the whispered words. Karl’s arm tightened around his shoulders, keeping him from flying to pieces. “You have to be useful. They told me to murder this Hispanic inmate from a rival gang, so I did to save my worthless ass, and I got away with it. I killed him. I took his life. He might’ve had a son or daughter waiting for him to get out.” In a panic, Travis scrubbed his hand over his face as tears coursed down, hot and bitter. “I 115

INK ILLUSIONS

can’t— I got to stop crying or I’m going to scare Belinda.” “She’s sleeping,” Karl said. “She won’t see.” “Should I turn myself in?” “No.” Karl’s fingers bit into his shoulder muscles. “Should I tell Aaron?” “No.” In the candlelight, Karl looked pale. “You confessed to me, and we can carry this unspoken to our graves. Don’t put it on Aaron or anyone else. A secret like this weighs heavy on the soul.” “Karl, damn it, I’m sor—” “It’s okay you told me. But I think the gods want you to carry it alone from here. If you tell people, it becomes an excuse for your actions or a way to manipulate them. Not that I think you’d stoop to that, but the harder path brings honor. Keep it to yourself. Remember it, and make everything else you do a step away from the darkness and into the light.” “I don’t deserve that.” Travis almost choked on the words. “It’s too easy.” “No, it’s going to be hard.” Travis dropped his head to Karl’s shoulder. He couldn’t even think straight, but he willed the words to fall like seeds into his unconscious mind. *

*

*

Aaron and Rosemary spent the night at the Jakobsens’ house. In the morning, they each had a shower, ate breakfast, and dressed in jeans and T-shirts belonging to Travis. Mrs. Jakobsen insisted on packing them a lunch. She walked them to the car. “Bring them back.” She squeezed Aaron’s arm. “You’re a good man.” 116

INK ILLUSIONS

“A mensch?” Smiling, he used the Yiddish term. “More than that. You’ve been a guardian angel to my son and my granddaughter.” “Me?” He found the Judeo-Christian image interesting, coming from a pagan. “Maybe I can be the Asatru equivalent. One of those garden gnomes with the little red hats?” “You mean a kobold?” Mrs. Jakobsen laughed and gave him a quick hug. “Be safe. Bring them back.” Shading her eyes with her hand, she watched them drive away. As they crossed to mainland Texas, Aaron said, “Please, Rosemary, promise me you’ll go with Travis and me to a lawyer when we get back to Houston. We need a child custody arrangement. It’s not enough that Chad might be out of the picture.” “Oh, he’s gone all right.” With a sigh, Rosemary fumbled in the large grocery bag Mrs. Jakobsen had given them. She pulled out a thermos and poured them each a cup of coffee. Raindrops sprinkled the windshield as a helicopter flew low overhead, bound for Scholes Airport at Galveston. Aaron sipped black coffee, keeping his gaze on the road. He set his travel mug in the cup holder. “This whole thing,” he said, “comes from Travis’s fear. I know he’s terrified you have the power to cut him out of Belinda’s life. If you safeguard his parental rights, you can prevent him from doing something desperate.” “And stupid,” she said. “Desperate and completely stupid like he’s already done.” “You’re pissed off at me.” She sent him a sidelong glance. “At you, a little. At him? A lot. But you have the chance to do the right thing.” 117

INK ILLUSIONS

Rosemary switched on the radio, punching down the volume on a news station. She reduced it to an indistinguishable drone that seeped between them like a protective curtain. Aaron noticed her tense jaw line and shiny eyes. He switched his attention back to the road. As they headed north, the clouds began to break up. Thirty minutes later, as they rolled past the strip malls and storage unit facilities that dotted the flatlands of League City, he turned off the radio. “I’m not letting this go. We need to see a lawyer.” “You and Travis have each other,” she burst out. “You want my kid as well? You know, he never looked at me the way he looks at you. And you? I’d have married you, if you’d been interested.” Aaron’s face heated. He spoke with caution. “Why are you telling me this?” “I don’t know!” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m so jealous of you and Travis. I want someone to adore me. I feel so guilty I let Chad grab Belinda and shake her, even if she did throw a tantrum inside the most expensive steakhouse in Houston.” League City slipped away in the rear view mirror. Aaron said, “I could introduce you to a lot of decent, good-looking, straight guys.” “No. I don’t trust anyone with Belinda. Never again.” “We can’t swear off relationships until she’s eighteen.” Aaron finished his coffee, and she poured him a refill. “It’s not good for us or Belinda. What if you fall in love?” “Like you and Travis?” she asked. “Maybe. I’m still thinking it through.” “You’re going to have to be the strong one who keeps him out 118

INK ILLUSIONS

of trouble.” “We’re not talking about me right now, okay?” He recognized the truth of what she’d said and tried to drown his anxiety in a flood of words. “Give me something I can bring to the table with Travis. Promise you’ll go with us to a lawyer an—” “Stop pushing me! Belinda’s all I’ve got.” Shocked, Aaron said, “We’re not trying to take her from you.” “You won’t have to,” Rosemary said. “She’d go with you or Travis in an instant. You’re the fun parent, and I’m the one who makes her go to school and clean up her room.” “I’ve taken the easy role.” “It’s more than that,” Rosemary said. “She loves you more than me. She’ll never be a girl who has a close bond with her mom.” They didn’t talk much after that. In Houston, they stopped by the house to check for phone messages, but no one had called. Aaron hoped he and Rosemary could bring Belinda home that same day. In case it took longer, he decided to leave the pets next door with the retired army colonel, who had looked after them before. The poor man never got visitors and yearned for conversation. If he’d been Jewish, he might have been a Talmudic scholar. He had a far-reaching mind that could take things to a precise level of detail. Aaron invited him over for coffee or beer every chance he got. It took forever to transfer the guinea pigs into their smaller travel pen. The girls dashed in circles through their sawdust, squeaking piteously as they tried to evade his clutching hands. Finally, they hid inside their little hideout, made from an oatmeal container, which he lifted into their small pen. He carried it next door to his neighbor, who opened the door and squinted at him. “Goldhirsch!” The man brightened, eager to talk. “Taking off 119

INK ILLUSIONS

somewhere?” “Boyfriend troubles,” Aaron said. His neighbor reached for the guinea pigs. “Don’t explain. I don’t want to know.” On a full tank of gas, Aaron and Rosemary took Interstate 10 west toward Austin as he described his encounter with their neighbor. “I think he hoped when you moved in that you’d convert me.” “To Christianity?” she asked. Aaron laughed at her shocked expression. “To heterosexuality.” “As if!” Rosemary shook her head, and he knew things were right between them again. She checked her watch. It took almost forty-five minutes in traffic to travel through the metropolitan sprawl of Houston, which fell behind them after they passed the tiny city of Katy. “Let me drive.” Rosemary fidgeted. “With no cops around, you’re allowed to speed.” “You’re as bad as my sisters. It’s my car, so I’ll drive.” “You’re going to keep bringing up this custody agreement thing, aren’t you?” “All the way to Austin. You know Belinda loves you, right? She’s so jealous of Chad that she did everything possible to break you two up.” He hesitated, but sensed her listening. “A joint custody arrangement forms a permanent link between you and Travis, but how bad would that be? You wouldn’t have to live with him.” “He and I were best friends. I don’t want to call the cops on him.” Rosemary bit her lip. “I know what it’s like to have no parents. I never knew my dad, and my mom was a drug addict. She dumped me on my grandma when I was Belinda’s age. Later, she 120

INK ILLUSIONS

died in prison.” “I didn’t know,” Aaron said. That explained a lot, such as why she tried to cut the ties with Travis when he was sent to prison. “I’m sorry. But isn’t Belinda lucky to have you and Travis?” “Are you close to your dad?” “When I was a kid, I practically worshipped him.” “I wish Belinda felt that way about me, but she fights me every step of the way. Like when I have to comb her hair after a bath? You’ve seen how fussy she gets.” Rosemary glanced at him. “You looked up to your dad? A tough guy like you? Didn’t you tell me he was shy and scholarly?” “Well, yeah, but he knew everything. There wasn’t a question he couldn’t answer.” “You said your brother took after him?” “Hey, I got good grades. Straight As, in fact!” “Yeah, but the boxing lessons?” “My parents were okay with the boxing lessons. They thought it would keep me from mistaking myself for the center of the universe.” He laughed. “Which it did. Nothing like having another guy demolish you in several three-minute rounds to teach you humility.” Rosemary snorted. “You’re not humble, Aaron, and you never will be.” “I’m working on it, okay? So, about that custody arrangement…” “Pick a lawyer and get an appointment. I promise I’ll go with you and Travis.” *

* 121

*

INK ILLUSIONS

By mid-afternoon, they reached The Yggdrasil Handcrafted Furniture Shop in Austin. To get directions to the Asatru retreat, Aaron wondered if he’d have to buy a new dining room table or a bookcase to send back to Houston. However, they encountered two teenage brothers left to mind the store. When Rosemary gave them a flirtatious smile and mentioned Karl Jakobsen’s name, they fell over themselves to help her, sketching a map on a fast food napkin. To Aaron’s amusement, they ignored him. The map led them west of the Austin city limits. They left the winding asphalt road at a dirt sidetrack, which stopped at a closed gate. Aaron parked on the shoulder, facing back the way they had come, and they walked to the gate. Beyond, the path continued. A metal sign on the gate warned, No Trespassing—Private Land. Alongside it, a wooden sign proclaimed the place name in Norselooking script, Glaðsheimr. “I guess we’ve come to…” Rosemary sighed. “I’m not going to try to pronounce that.” They clambered between the top and bottom strands of the post-and-wire fence. The path wound through a pecan orchard. They started walking as the breeze rustled through the leaves. The sun had dipped past its zenith and a faraway jet droned through the vast October sky. A noise cut through the stillness—too breathy for a boat horn, and too harsh to be the pure, rounded note of a bugle. It sounded like the first shofar blast on Rosh Hashanah. Wake from your moral sleep, Aaron thought. Arise from your slumbers and remember God, who created you. “What was that?” Rosemary stared at him. “Let’s get off the road.” The horn blared again. She and Aaron ducked into the deep 122

INK ILLUSIONS

shade of a pecan tree at the sound of hooves pounding the hardpacked dirt road. Four riders on huge glossy horses cantered past, laughing and shouting. They wore a mishmash of felt and buckskin garments. Two carried honest-to-God swords sheathed at their sides, and all wore round leather helmets studded with bronze. Over his shoulder, the last rider carried a Viking battle horn, banded in silver. They disappeared into the trees and the sound of thudding hoof beats dwindled. “Whoa.” Aaron breathed the word. “Holy crap.” Eyes wide, Rosemary grabbed his hand. “This is awesome,” he said. “We’ve just wandered into an Anglo-Saxon fantasy. No wonder Karl signed up for this. It’s The Lord of the Rings.” “Yeah, in Texas. Minus the snow.” She gave him an exasperated look. “So what are we supposed to do? Petition to see the king? I want my kid back. They’d better not expect me to curtsey and act like a peasant.” “It’s Beowulf,” Aaron said. “It’s Götterdämmerung!” “Stop showing off.” Rosemary tugged his hand. “What if everyone refuses to speak English? Can you speak German? I mean, more than that one word you just said?” “Don’t worry. Karl will help us. By the way, I might need your soothing feminine presence when talking to him. He always looks like he wants to rip my head off.” “Karl?” Rosemary said in surprised disbelief. “Yeah, I know. Who’d dislike me, right?” Aaron gave her a cheerful grin. “But he won’t talk to me. He just flares his nostrils and stares at me like a bull about to charge.” They continued down the path, holding hands like Hansel and Gretel. Past the pecan orchard, they spotted a mansion half123

INK ILLUSIONS

concealed behind three tall ash trees planted for shade. The house looked like it could sleep twenty people. Three stories high, it had a pitched, shingled roof and deep wrap-around porches on the second and ground floors. Men and women in medieval clothes bustled around, carrying stuff from the lower porch into the house through the tall front doors. Aaron couldn’t make out what they held, but it might have been books or medieval weapons or horse tack or anything. They seemed to have concluded a workshop on the porch. Aaron and Rosemary walked to the porch steps, where a middle-aged woman waited to greet them, frowning as she sized them up. She wore a loose green kirtle over an unbleached linen smock. Her gray-brown hair lay pinned in an orderly knot and she wore felt boots. “Who have you come to see?” she asked. Her accent was pure Texas twang, so different from the subtle Galveston drawl that would always remind him of Rosemary and Travis. “Karl Jakobsen,” Aaron and Rosemary said in unison. Aaron felt the first twinges of a tension headache. His entire body felt strung on loose wires, shivering with fatigue, nervous energy, and way too much caffeine. Rosemary looked as frazzled as he felt, a tiny muscle twitching in her jaw. The middle-aged woman gave them a cool look—not hostile, but disapproving of their intrusion into a religious retreat. “Please, be seated.” The woman indicated they could follow as far as the shady porch with its long bench seats, and they ignored her, not budging from where they stood on the swept, hard-packed earth in the leafy shadows cast by the shade trees. She shrugged and went inside. Belinda, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, darted out past her and 124

INK ILLUSIONS

ran across the porch. “Aaron? Mom?” She hesitated at the top of the steps, her gaze darting between him and Rosemary. Looking guilty, she lifted her hand to cover the shorn ends of her hair. Someone had given her a cute-looking pixie cut. “What are you doing here?” “Looking for you,” Rosemary managed to say in a whispery voice. Belinda’s jaw tightened. “Are you mad ’cause of my hair?” “No,” Rosemary said. “It looks fine.” Her eyes went shiny and dark with unshed tears, and she held out her arms. Belinda trudged down the steps with obvious reluctance to accept a hug. Aaron wrapped his arms around them both, trying to control his uneven breathing. His emotions surged up, almost out of control. Anger, fear, and deep sorrow. The novelty had worn off the medieval Viking experience of the Asatru retreat. He’d reached his breaking point with this journey. He needed it to end. He wanted them back home at his house, at their house, in Houston with the mezuzah on the front doorjamb and the guinea pigs in the back yard. He wanted to hug Belinda tightly, maybe even pick her up and carry her through the pecan orchard, all the way back to the car. He also felt like scolding her for acting like a brat to her mother. “What are you doing here?” he asked, pressing his face against Belinda’s shorn hair. “We’re visiting our cousin Karl,” she said. A heavy, hesitant tread on the porch boards drew Aaron’s attention. Karl Jakobsen stood staring at them with wide eyes. He wore a gray belted tunic over leggings and boots and looked like he’d stepped out of an Icelandic saga. Before Aaron could stop himself, he’d bounded up the steps and shoved Karl against the 125

INK ILLUSIONS

double doors. He flattened his hand against Karl’s broad chest, holding him there. They stood the exact same height. “Where is he?” Aaron demanded. “Back off.” Karl’s eyes blazed. He clamped his rough palm over the back of Aaron’s hand, immobilizing it against his chest, as if to get Aaron in a wristlock. They both went still, not taking it any further. Karl’s chest surged with his breathing, his heart thudding under Aaron’s palm. He’d better not try some martial arts trick, Aaron thought, rolling his free hand into a fist. If Karl did, Aaron planned to punch him in the face. “Dude, take it easy,” Karl said. “You didn’t call the cops, did you?” Rosemary ran up the porch steps and pushed between them. Linking her arms with theirs, she walked them back where Belinda stood on the hard-packed dirt, looking anxious. “No, we didn’t call the cops,” she told Karl, as Aaron stared out toward the pecan orchard, trying to slow his pounding heart. “By the way, Chad is out of the picture. He’s history. I’m not going to marry him.” “Travis told me about him. You’re right—you shouldn’t marry Chad.” Karl’s gaze shifted past Rosemary to Aaron. “I’m going to bring Travis out and then the four of you have to leave. Okay? Are you all going to be okay? Rosemary?” “I’m willing to go to a lawyer for a custody arrangement,” she said. “You tell Travis that.” “Cool.” Karl looked relieved. “But you four have to leave. Go back to Houston. I know you didn’t mean to, but you brought a lot of discordant energy here, and we might have to do a psychic cleansing.” 126

INK ILLUSIONS

What the hell is he talking about? Aaron wondered as his head throbbed. They watched Karl stride back into the house. He reappeared with Travis, who wore jeans and a sweatshirt. Aaron’s heart surged at the sight of Travis, and he tried to keep his face impassive. The cousins didn’t touch or look at each other as Karl escorted Travis down the porch steps, but Aaron sensed the closeness between them. Travis’s posture remained tense, his gaze traveling from Aaron to Rosemary, and briefly to Belinda. As always, he showed his heart in his eyes, expressing fear and yearning and deep shame. Aaron wanted to help Travis, and he sensed Rosemary did, too. But they remained motionless, trapped in a web of emotional tension, struggling to contain the anger they felt toward him. “I’m sorry,” Travis said. “I’m so sorry for what I put you both through.” Neither Aaron nor Rosemary answered. Karl said, “Give Travis a chance.” “Stay out of this,” Rosemary told him. Karl answered her while watching Aaron. “No. Not until I know you’ve forgiven him.” “Then you may be waiting for years,” she said. Travis put out his hand, edging toward Aaron. “Please don’t look at me like that. Please give me a chance to explain.” Aaron realized he’d shifted his stance like a boxer and no longer faced Travis squarely. He’d presented his left side, and if this were a match, he’d be jabbing with his left fist by now. Instead, he forced himself to keep his hand down at his side. He searched for the right words, unwilling to blurt out something too emotional. His heart raced, he felt trapped, and he had a sense of 127

INK ILLUSIONS

everything spinning out of control. “Please, Aaron, say something.” Travis’s fingertips brushed Aaron’s forward arm. “Back off.” Aaron parried with his other hand, sweeping aside Travis’s touch. “Do as he says,” Karl told Travis. “Don’t push hi—” “Aaron.” Panic flashed in Travis’s eyes, and he reached with both hands. Before Aaron knew it, they were grappling like wrestlers as he tried to fend off Travis’s attempts to grab him. His adrenaline shot up as Travis’s hands clamped over his biceps. He didn’t stand a chance against Travis’s greater muscle mass unless he kept moving. He shifted his weight, and Travis stumbled past him. It must have looked like Aaron had done a jujitsu hip throw, but it turned into more of a takedown as Travis hung on. They both hit the dirt, rolling, locked together like fourth graders brawling. Belinda screamed, “Don’t hurt him! Don’t hurt him!” Did she mean him? Or Travis? Aaron spun up on his knees, astride Travis’s waist. He flattened Travis to the ground, his fists knotted in Travis’s sweatshirt. Panting, Travis stared up at him in disbelief. “Why didn’t you call me?” Aaron hauled Travis up with both fists and slammed him back down. Travis exhaled as his shoulders hit the dirt, tucking his chin to keep his head from striking. Aaron yelled at him, “How could you do this to us?” He realized Travis had a clear shot at his face, especially since he couldn’t block with his fists wound in Travis’s sweatshirt, but Travis continued to grip Aaron’s arms, bracing himself for a blow. “He’s not going to fight you, Aaron,” Karl yelled. “Leave him alone!” 128

INK ILLUSIONS

He grabbed Aaron with rough hands, wrenching him off Travis. Aaron almost tore free, and Karl’s arms locked like steel bands around Aaron’s arms, restraining him as they both reeled backward. In a panic, Aaron almost slammed his hand back into Karl’s groin. Their grappling would have turned to street fighting in that instant, but he managed to stop himself. “Get off me!” He planted his feet, standing still. Karl panted with fright. “Jesus,” he burst out, abandoning paganism for the moment. Aaron shook off Karl’s loosened grip. Meanwhile, Travis rolled into a crouch and stood, shivering with adrenaline, his horrified gaze locked on Aaron. Rosemary clutched Belinda in her arms, and Belinda stared at Aaron, tears trickling down her face. Only Rosemary regarded Aaron with a trace of understanding. He looked at her, trying to control his voice. “I… I’ll be in the car.” The sun had dipped low in the sky. It cast Aaron’s shadow ahead of him in an exaggerated sweep as he walked away from them. He felt their stares boring into his back, and it seemed to take forever to reach the pecan orchard. The trees closed around him, their leaves rustling in the faint breeze. Aaron’s steps grew heavier as he continued down the winding path. His thirtieth year neared completion. In December, he would turn thirty-one. Would he be alone this time? He couldn’t even think about Travis without feeling pain. Now he caught himself rubbing his hand over his chest, as if trying to soothe the ache in his heart. Had they both gone too far to rebuild their relationship? What would Rosemary and Belinda do? How could he have guessed back in January, on Belinda’s seventh birthday, that his actions would lead him here today? 129

INK ILLUSIONS

Aaron climbed through the fence wires, ducking past the Glaðsheimr sign. At least his car awaited, safe from harm. He got behind the wheel and tilted his head back against the headrest. His throat ached. Tears blurred his vision, and he scrubbed his hand over his eyes, not wanting to leave any traces. A rustling sound drew his attention through the windshield. He spotted Travis clambering through the wires of the fence. Aaron watched him approach, too exhausted to say anything. Travis gave a tiny knock on the passenger window. He opened the door, dropped into the seat, and stared at Aaron, his expression filled with remorse and yet blazing with determination to be heard. “‘What is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor,’” he said with intensity, quoting Hillel the Elder as if the words contained the salvation of the planet—which, in fact, they did. Aaron listened, astonished. “You remember that one conversation we had months ago?” Travis shifted his weight, searching Aaron’s expression. “Tell me what to do to make it up to you and Rosemary.” “Give us time,” Aaron said. They sat together as Aaron felt increasingly ashamed for having scuffled with Travis, which had frightened Belinda. He inched his right hand out to brush Travis’s leg. Travis exhaled and took Aaron’s hand in both of his. His thumb brushed over Aaron’s battered knuckles. “What happened?” “I punched Chad.” “No way.” Travis sounded shocked. “He swung at me first.” Travis gave a subdued laugh, as if pleased with the outcome. He stroked Aaron’s hand. “You know, I never thanked you.” He rushed on, his voice rough with emotion. “You protected 130

INK ILLUSIONS

Rosemary and Belinda while I was in prison. You opened your house and heart and life to them. They were incredibly lucky to have you. Especially Belinda. You’ve been the perfect dad.” Listening, Aaron blinked as tears swam in his eyes. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear that from Travis. “Well, I don’t know about perfect.” “By the way, Karl likes you.” Travis looked flushed and nervous. “A lot. As in, too much. He’s trying to stay away from you, for my sake.” “Karl’s gay?” Aaron never would have guessed. “Yeah.” “Why are you telling me this?” Travis swallowed. “Well, maybe he’s the one you’d want to spend your life with.” Aaron sat still, realizing what Travis had just brought to the table. The possibility of spending a lifetime together. He didn’t think he could trust himself to speak, so he drew Travis’s hand to his lips and kissed it. With a tight moan, Travis pinned him against the seat, capturing his mouth in a passionate kiss. Their tongues met, probing and flexing as each struggled for dominance. Travis made an urgent sound in his throat and gentled the kiss. Aaron smiled as they sucked each other’s lips, each relearning the contours of the other’s mouth. He stroked Travis’s hair, which had almost grown long enough to catch in his fingers. They drew back for a breath, and Aaron saw Rosemary and Belinda, who had just climbed through the fence. Rosemary seemed to be pretending to pick a thorn out of her sock, while Belinda stared at them in open curiosity. He looked back at Travis, regretting he might have to rush a declaration of love before they got into the car. 131

INK ILLUSIONS

“Such an offer,” he managed to say, his heart full. “I didn’t get a chance to answer.” Travis took his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm. “You already did.”

132

VAL KOVALIN

Val Kovalin started out reviewing M/M Gay Romance fiction at her blog, which led her to writing it, but she’s definitely a reader at heart. She loves analyzing fiction, which makes reviewing a favorite hobby. As a reviewer, she knows that not every reader likes every book, so she’s okay with negative reactions to her own work. She likes humor, strong plots, and complicated characters, and hopes to offer readers the same. Val also likes miniatures, minimalism, unusual bits of junk, and animals of all sizes, especially reptiles. For more information about Val and her writing, you can visit her author site or blog: http://obsidianbookshelf.com http://obsidianbookshelf.blogspot.com *

*

*

Don’t miss Wicked Cool by Val Kovalin, available at AmberAllure.com!

Junk removal specialist Stu Van der Meer has been burned before in love affairs with corporate professionals who underestimate him as a blue-collar guy who’s good with his hands. When he meets

property manager Brian Hawthorne, Stu knows he shouldn’t get involved with him, especially since he senses that Brian might be in serious trouble. Stu, however, can’t ignore their immediate sexual chemistry. He also can’t deny his curiosity about Brian’s secret past, specialized knowledge, and unusual accent. Brian has something to hide, and it tests the limits of each man’s willingness to trust the other as Stu pursues the truth. Is Brian a criminal? A victim? Is he only using Stu as a distraction from his fears? As their relationship deepens, Stu must decide what risks he will take to protect them when Brian faces a threat from the past…

AMBER QUILL PRESS, LLC THE GOLD STANDARD IN PUBLISHING QUALITY BOOKS IN BOTH PRINT AND ELECTRONIC FORMATS

ACTION/ADVENTURE SCIENCE FICTION

SUSPENSE/THRILLER DARK FANTASY

MAINSTREAM

ROMANCE

HORROR

EROTICA

FANTASY

GLBT

WESTERN

MYSTERY

PARANORMAL

HISTORICAL

B UY D IRECT AND S AVE www.AmberQuill.com www.AmberHeat.com www.AmberAllure.com