Tara Calico Photo Novels & Stories

The door opened, and my house was immediately invaded by expensive department-store energy. Tara came in first, wearing oversized white sunglasses even though San Francisco that morning was foggy like it still hadn’t moved on from its ex. Her long black hair was blown out, a camel trench coat fell perfectly over her shoulders, an iced matcha in one hand, and a tiny Hermès bag that was an unreasonable size for carrying anything except lipstick and delusion.

But the most worn of them were different: One taken at the beach a few years ago when she got a new string bikini. Another was when she dressed up for Halloween as a pirate wench, skimpiness flaunted. And then there was one of her just coming out of the shower, towel just barely covering her still-dripping body. That last one could only have been taken from William's doorway. Tara's heart started pounding.

“Mr. Berlusconi, Ms. Holmes is here for your lunch date should I send her in?” “Yes, Kat please send her in.” “Looks like I get to speak with the bride to be after all.” My uncle says looking over to the door just as a couple lite knocks signal her arrival. Tara steps into the room wearing a fitted pink dress and heels her full thick curves on full display as she enters my office and politely greets Shadow and my uncle. “Hey, Tara, I’d like to introduce you to my uncle Antonio, you know him as the current Mayor.” “It’s nice to finally meet you face to face Mr. Berlusconi.” Tara says walking over to my uncle who stands as she comes over to shake his hand.

I took off the cufflinks and put them in my pocket, and rolled the sleeves above my elbows. And I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. “Wow.” My jaw dropped. Tara just came out of the pool like a scene in a James Bond movie or from a Sports Illustrated magazine cover. The kind of cover that young boys used to jack off on. She was wearing a two-piece yellow swimsuit, revealing her sweet cleavage, her flat abs, and toned long legs that could run a mile.

Both of us smiling for the cameras. Next photo: Finn in the background, jaw tight, eyes dark. My throat closes. "What," Tara says slowly, "is this?" "I…" My voice cracks. "Me and Jax, we were just…" "Say no more." She holds up a hand. A smile. An actual smile,spreads across her face. "I didn't know you could perform this well. Though I had some hope in you." She taps the screen again, lingering on the photo of Jax and me. "This is perfect."

Tara finds me first. "Hey, girl!" I call, lifting a hand. Tara lights up immediately and comes barreling toward me like a blonde missile. "CAT!" She wraps me in a hug hard enough to crack ribs. "You smell aggressive today," she says brightly as she steps back. "I saw Sandra before eight a.m." Tara winces. "Damn. That's rough." Tara is a wolf from Red Ridge, the neighboring pack. Blonde, blue-eyed, outgoing, loud, fearless. The type of girl who could wear a crop top during a snowstorm and somehow survive through pure confidence alone.

“Congratulations.” Gilbert also smiled. “Thank you, Brad!” Claire also said, “Thank you!” Remembering the photos on Gilbert's phone, she picked it up and showed it to Tara. "Tara, who do you think this child looks like?" She zoomed in on the photo, careful not to let Tara see the chat history. Tara looked at the child's face, slightly taken aback. It was familiar. Who did it look like? “Calvin?” She looked at Claire with wide, surprised eyes.

GIA O'LEARY I spotted Tara the moment I walked into the café. She sat in the far corner by the window, wearing all black like she was mourning someone. A sleek turtleneck, dark jeans, black gloves, and a face cap that shadowed most of her face. She looked like she’d either lost someone or was about to bury something, maybe her conscience, though I doubted she had one to begin with. I smirked to myself.