Page 12 of Love at First Ink

“Can I help you?” A short, blonde woman popped out from seemingly nowhere. A pleasant enough smile was on her face, but it was her eyes that gave her away as they roamed Marisol’s body. The woman was intimidated by her—probably due to Marisol’s looks. She wasn’t being vain when she said she was pretty. Marisol knew she was pretty. Hell, she spent countless hours to achieve this effortlessbeauty, which had been so ingrained in her because of her mother.

“No, I know what I’m looking for. Thanks.”

At her dismissal, the woman gave her a fake smile and walked off.

After no more interruptions, she reached the skin care aisle and looked through the face washes and creams until she got to the body lotions. There were tons to pick from, ranging from tropical smells to earthy scents, which was great if she didn’t need an unscented one. She had to search through dozens and move bottles out of the way until she spotted a single bottle labeled unscented.

It wasn’t a brand she ever heard of, but she popped the lid open to smell. Nothing. Exactly what she needed. She was tempted to look around and do more shopping, but the hem of her shorts rubbed her tattoo and was getting annoying. She was ready to go home and change into a robe.

Marisol rang up her purchase. The damn lotion was expensive, so she hoped it did the trick. She carried the small black bag to her car, gently tossing her purchase and purse in the passenger seat before getting in. Another warm day in Berkeley meant she quickly turned on the car and put the AC on blast.

One thing about Marisol was that she wasn’t going to sweat. It was gross.

Just as she was contemplating whether she would stop and pick up something for lunch, her phone rang. Her mother’s photo flashed across the screen. She wasn’t expecting a call, but she assumed her mother was calling to talk about some upcoming event she would undoubtedly drag Marisol to. Especially now that Marisol was no longer a part of the family business and in the midst of a divorce, her mother found new ways to guilt her into doing what she wanted. She was tempted to letit go to voicemail but decided against it because the woman was persistent. She wouldn’t stop pestering her.

“Hello, Mother,” she answered finally.

There was movement on the other line before her mother’s voice filled her car’s speakers. “Marisol, darling, how are you doing?” Her mother always sounded slightly annoyed and disinterested every time she spoke, and this time was no different. Didn’t matter that she was the one who called.

“I’m fine. Just…shopping. Is there something you need?”

“Well, no, actually. Not me. But I do have a favor to ask of you, dear.”

Marisol tensed. She never liked her mother’s “favors.” They usually meant meeting someone who had the personality of a garden gnome or attending one of her friend’s functions as a “representative” for their family.

“Did you hear me? I said I need to ask you for a favor.” Her mother’s sharp tone cut through her thoughts.

“Yes, sorry. What do you need, Mother?”

“Now that we’re back from vacation, your father has to go to the San Francisco store tomorrow to inspect it one final time before opening. Unfortunately, I have a massage I scheduled weeks ago that I simply cannot miss. I know you are no longer working at the family business, but would you be a dear and accompany your father tomorrow? I know it would mean a lot to him, and me too, dear, to have you involved again.”

It took everything in Marisol not to groan. Even though her mother couldn’t see her, she refrained from rolling her eyes because somehow it would get back to her. The family business was something of a contention between them. One would argue that it was the first time Marisol ever defied her family.

Her family owned a winery that was outsourced to multiple restaurants, liquor stores, and various other companies.She and Archie were supposed to take it over, but when she announced her impending divorce from him, she also said she would no longer be an active participant in the business. Her father was sad but understood. Her mother, on the other hand, was pissed. Ever since then, she found ways for Marisol to be involved in her sneaky way. This was no different.

It was another way her mother had her claws in her, pulling all the strings as if she were a puppet.

If she were a different woman, she would say no. But she wasn’t a different woman, and this was her mother. One who, despite how awful she could be, was the woman she craved approval from the most. At least that was what her therapist said.

“Sure, I guess I can go?—”

“Oh great! Your father will pick you up around nine in the morning. Goodbye, darling.” Her mother made kissing sounds before the line went dead, abruptly cutting off the conversation once she got what she wanted. Marisol was left feeling like she just got whiplash.

Before she could fully process what happened, her phone rang again. Thinking it was her mother calling back to add on to her little “favor,” Marisol answered without looking. “Hello?”

“Marisol.”

Her blood turned to ice, a sharp chill creeping down her spine. She mentally cursed herself—why hadn’t she checked? More than that, why hadn’t she blocked his number when she had the chance? The answer gnawed at her. There was no good reason, nothing she could justify beyond the flimsy excuse that she might need to contact him about the divorce. But deep down, she knew better.

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to speak. “Archie,what do you want?” She prayed her voice didn’t betray the unease curling in her gut.

Archie was her ex-husband. Or he would be—if he ever bothered to sign the damn papers. Somehow, in that delusional little mind of his, he still believed they were together, as if their marriage hadn’t already crumbled into dust.

“You didn’t show up at the work mixer I texted you about last week.” His voice echoed throughout the car and made her shiver, but not in a good way. If she were honest, Archie had never made her feel good in any aspect.

If it had been up to her, she would have never married him.

“Why would I go to the mixer with you, Archie?” She forced her voice to be even so as not to incite any more hostility.

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