Midnight Muse

My father wanted me to follow in his footsteps, take over his business of buying, renovating, and selling or renting out buildings. Sounds fucking boring to me and always has.

My passion lies with art, with tattooing—something I’m not even sure that I can do anymore because of the motorcycle accident that followed the beating.

I shift uncomfortably as the memory resurfaces at his presence alone.

Blood was running down my face, blurring my vision in my haste to get away. I could taste it in my mouth. My heart was beating too furiously in my chest and my hands shaking where they were clenched around the handlebars of my bike as I flew down the streets, trying to get away. My tire to slipped, and my entire world completely shifted in a matter of milliseconds as the bike kicked out from under me.

The helmet I had on saved my life.

I shouldn’t have lied to my roommates about my whereabouts tonight, but I couldn’t think of a better excuse. They would have told me to ignore him, not to go, but he’s been calling and texting me for months now, and Travis doesn’t take no for an answer. He showed up to campus without warning, or if there was, it was another message that had gone ignored.

I hated the way he was touching my bike, admiring the piece of shit I built from the ground up. The accident didn’t stop me from climbing back on, saving enough to get another motorcycle and living my life.

The only thing the accident is threatening is my ability to tattoo.

I took him to Rhonda’s because it’s a comfort to me, and I knew he would hate it. I was proved right when my father slid into the seat across from me with a crinkle of disgust to his nose.

I almost smiled at that.

My hands tremble in my lap. I’m not scared of the man, not anymore, but I’m shaking with rage because he showed up unannounced, demanding to meet with me.

If this is what it takes to get the fucker to leave me alone, I will answer this one request.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, after a long ten minutes of sitting in silence. I only ask because I know that he will wait me out, and I want him gone as soon as possible. I have a life to get back to.

There’s a fresh cup of black coffee sitting in front of him, untouched. He doesn’t bother with niceties when he finally speaks, and I’m happy, because they’d be lies anyway.

We have merely put up with each other ever since mom passed, and that continues to this day.

“I’m interested in an opportunity in town,” he says, finally tucking his phone into the interior pocket of his suit jacket.

“And?” I ask, bored. I don’t fucking care, but the idea that my father might be in Hardwich more often makes me want to squirm.

I won’t give him the satisfaction.

He pins me with a scathing look. One that used to terrify me when I was young and he was yelling at mom.

Now, it only makes me hate him more.

“And—” he taps his thick ring against the ceramic of the mug impatiently. The sound makes me grit my teeth. “I want to know about the area.” His gaze flickers down to where he can’t see my hands under the table. Something passes through his gaze but I ignore it when he sucks his teeth. “If you’d consider it profitable.”

“Take a walk around,” I wave lazily towards the windows. There aren’t many people milling about this late in the evening, and I hope the lack of them drives my father away from this town. “I certainly don’t have the time to do it.”

“You don’t have the time to do it between drawing those stick figures and nonsense you ruin your body with?” He quirks his brow, always unimpressed.

Oh, he knows that I’m still not taking the classes he tried forcing me into. I don’t want a fucking thing to do with this man or his business, even if I’m owed it by name when he retires. He wouldn’t dare give it to his step-son, Dick, because they’re not related by blood. I know that he won’t do that.

When I refuse to answer, Travis continues. “I’m looking at Third Street Apartments,” he says and my world comes to a screeching halt. My breath catches in my throat and I’m lucky that he doesn’t clock it, too busy sneering at the interior of the diner.

That’s my apartment building. Mine and Ace’s and Slates. Quinn’s and Rory’s.

Ours.

And by the smirk on my father’s face, he knows it too, even if I’ve been paying my own rent through odd summer jobs and selling my artwork.

“It could use some updating, and when summer rolls around and there aren’t as many students on campus, it will be the perfect time to renovate the building, don’t you think?”

My stomach shrivels. If he buys the building and is wanting to renovate during the summer, that means he’ll be evicting everyone, and Slate, Ace, and I will be out of a place to live. Not only that, but Quinn and Rory will be thrown out, too.