Tate nodded to me. "You did great on that last one, huh?"
"What?"
"That guy. He wouldn't stop talking about you."
"There you go, then," I said. "I'm famous."
"Get that shit online," Maddox said. "I'm telling you, River. You're missing out."
I thought about the line of tattoos I had designed. If I started to put myself out there more on social media like Tate wanted, things could really open up for me. That was the thing about Tate-he didn't act greedy with any of us. He wanted all of us to get rich and famous.
"Well, the choice might be made for you, River," Tate said.
"What's that?" I asked.
"Got some sniffs about having stuff filmed in the shop. For a documentary series. To explore the art side of tattoos. Help cut out the assumptions that we're a bunch of unruly people."
"Cameras, huh?" I asked.
"And all the lights and glitz," Maddox said with a laugh.
"You know I hate that shit, Tate. What I do is personal."
"Your personal life is between the sheets with Lacey," Tate said. "Here at the shop, it's about doing more. A lot more. There's big plans. This isn't some beach tattoo shop."
"Was that a jab at me?" I asked.
"Hardly," Tate said. He grabbed my shoulder. "Look at your bank account. Compare it to when you were inking on the beach." He winked at me.
My cellphone started to ring, saving me from the pending argument with Tate over me being on camera and plastered over social media.
"It's Lacey," I said, stepping back. "I need to take this."
"Tell the little lady we all said hello," Tate said with a wink.
I turned and took the call. "I owe you one, darling. Tate was just … "
I heard Lacey sniffle.
My blood ran icy-cold.
I had caught her two times on the balcony of my apartment, smoking a cigarette, crying. When I asked why, she told me the past hurt her. I knew she felt guilty over what happened with that Kyle guy, but there wasn't a damn thing me or her could do about it.
I gritted my teeth for a second. I couldn't get mad at her for sharing her feelings.
"What is it, darling?"
She sucked in a shaky breath. "River … "
"What? Tell me?"
Of all the things in my mind, I never could have expected her to say what she said.
"My mother is dead."
Lacey
PRESENT DAY
From the second the plane touched down, things were all a big blur.
I wasn't sure how to accept what was said to me by my parents' butler, Jerry. Yes, they had a butler. A man who lived with them in his own little quarters, which were basically a converted garage. And he had done everything, including making the phone call that my mother had passed away.
She had been briefly sick with some kind of liver issue and passed suddenly in her sleep.
River took charge after I got the news. He scooped me up off his balcony and packed bags for me and him, scheduled the flight, paid for it, and communicated with Jerry when needed.
The truth?
I wasn't sure whether I should have been sad or angry. And that alone made me mad. How could I have not known she was sick? And why hadn't my father called me? There were a lot more questions that swirled through my head as I walked through the airport, River's hand in mine, him carrying our bags.
When we got outside and got blasted with the chilly early spring New York air, I looked at River.
"Thank you," I said.
"For what?"
"For being here. I couldn't be here without you. I don't know what to expect. And you know how they felt about you … "
"We're not teenagers," River said. "And I love you, Lacey. Nothing can stop me from loving you and taking care of you."
River had arranged for a car and everything.
We got into the car, turned on the GPS, and started our drive.
I dialed the number Jerry had called me from.
"Jerry, this is Lacey," I said.
"Yes, ma'am, of course."
"Please just call me Lacey. I'm not some rich person, okay?"
"As you wish. What can I help you with?"
"Are there services being held?"
"Ma'am … Lacey … your father requested you to come to the residence. That's what I was told to tell you."
"Jerry, that tells me nothing. Is my mother really dead?"
My throat tightened that I had just asked that question. For all I knew, this could have been my parents pulling a stunt to break me away from River again.
"Yes, I'm sorry to say it, but yes, she has perished."
Perished?
I cringed.
I had memories of my parents sitting at the dining room table clipping coupons. And, yeah, even when my father got a better job and made good money, they didn't act all hoity-toity.