Beautiful Oblivion

CHAPTER SEVEN

STILL NO WORD ON THANKSGIVING?” I HATED ASKING, BUT he wouldn’t mention it if I didn’t, and at that moment I was nearly desperate to know. I was beginning to forget what it felt like to be near him, and I was getting confused about things I shouldn’t be confused about.

T.J. didn’t make a sound for several seconds. He didn’t even breathe. “I miss you.”

“So that’s a no.”

“I won’t know until the day before. Maybe the day of. If something comes up . . .”

“I understand. You warned me. Stop acting like I’m going to throw a tantrum every time you can’t give me a straight answer.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s not that. I’m just worried the next time you ask, and I answer . . . you’re going to say something I don’t want to hear.”

I smiled against the phone, wishing I could hug him. “It’s nice to know you don’t want to hear it.”

“I don’t. It’s hard to explain . . . wanting this promotion and wanting to be with you just as much.”

“I get it. It’s not easy, but it’s going to be okay. We won’t always have to miss each other. We just have to get over the tough part in the beginning, right?”

“Right.” His reply was immediate and without hesitation, but I could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

“I love you,” I said.

“You know I do,” he said. “Have a good night, love.”

Knowing he couldn’t hear, I nodded, but it was all I could manage. We hung up without discussing Coby, or my second job, or that I’d been spending so much time with Trenton. My weekend tips had helped my brother pay most of one payment, but I worried it would just be a matter of time before he dropped out of his program.

I slipped a long-sleeved lacy black top over my head and fought with a pair of my favorite ripped jeans. Then I dabbed on some lip gloss before running out the door before I was late for my Friday night shift at the Red.

As soon as I walked into the employees’ entrance, I knew something was off. Everyone was dragging ass, and the bar was quiet. Too quiet. Normally I would treasure that first hour before everyone poured in through the doors. Friday was ladies’ night, so the rush began even earlier, but the bar was dead.

Thirty minutes in, Raegan was grumbling under her breath as she wiped down the bar for the third time. “Is there an underground fight thing tonight?”

I shook my head. “The Circle? It’s never held this early.”

“Oh, look. Something to do,” Raegan said, pulling down the Jim Beam.

Travis Maddox was trudging to his usual barstool, looking pitiful. Raegan put a double in front of him, and he sucked it down in one gulp, letting the glass crash to the wood.

“Uh-oh,” I said, taking the bottle Raegan handed me. “There’s only two things that could be that bad. Is everyone in the family okay?” I asked, bristling in anticipation of his answer.

“Yep. Everyone except me.”

“I don’t believe it,” I said, stunned. “Who is she?”

Travis’s shoulders fell. “She’s a freshman. And don’t ask me what it is about her. I don’t know, yet. But, when I was bagging this other chick today, I felt like I was doing something wrong, and then this girl’s face popped into my head.”

“The freshman’s?”

“Yeah! What the fuck, Cami? This has never happened to me before!”

Raegan and I traded glances. “Well,” I said. “It’s not the end of the world. You like her. So what?”

“I don’t like girls like this. That’s what.”

“Like this?” I said, surprised.

He took another shot, and then held his hands over his head, moving them around in circles. “She’s all in my head.”

“You’re such a pussy for a guy that doesn’t lose!” Raegan said, teasing.

“Tell me what to do, Cami. You know about girls. You’re kind of one.”

“Okay, first of all,” I said, leaning toward him, “suck my dick.”

“See? Girls don’t say that.”

“The cool ones do,” Raegan said.

I continued, “Second of all, you’re Travis fucking Maddox. You can have any girl you want.”

“Almost,” Raegan said from the sink, five feet away.

Travis’s nose wrinkled. “You were Brazil’s girl. I’ve never even tried.”

Raegan narrowed her eyes at the youngest Maddox brother. “Did you just say that to me?”

“Well,” he said. “It’s the truth.”

“Still would have never happened.”

“We’ll never know,” he said, raising his third shot before letting it wash down his throat.

“Easy, Mad Dog,” I said.

Travis cringed. “You know I fucking hate that.”

“I know,” I said lifting the bottle. “But it gets your attention. Here’s your plan. Number one, stop being a little bitch. Number two, remember who the hell you are, and work your magic. She’s no different from any other—”

“Oh, she’s different,” Travis said.

I sighed and looked at Raegan. “He’s got it bad.”

“Shut up and help me,” Travis said, frustrated.

“There are three tricks to landing a hard-to-get: patience, having other options, and being aloof. You are not the BFF. You’re sex on a stick, flirting just out of reach. In other words, Travis Maddox.”

“I knew it. You’ve always wanted me,” he said, smug.

I stood up. “Uh . . . no. Not at all. Not even in high school.”

“Liar,” he said, standing. “I never tried with you, either. My brother has always been in love with you.”

I froze. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Did he know something?

Travis continued, “Aloof. Other options. Patience. Got it.”

I nodded. “If you guys end up married, you owe me a hundred bucks.”

“Married?” Travis said, his face screwing into disgust. “What the fuck, Cami? I’m nineteen! Nobody gets married at nineteen.”

I looked around, checking to see if anyone heard him admit to being underage. “Say that a little louder.”

He snorted. “Me getting married at all is unlikely? Anytime soon? Never gonna happen.”

“Travis Maddox doesn’t walk into a bar upset over a girl, either. You never know.”

“Shame on you for wishing that on me,” he said, winking. “I better see you at my next fight, Camille! Be a good friend, would ya?”

“You know I have to work.”

“I’ll make sure we schedule a late one.”

“I still won’t come! It’s barbaric!”

“Come with Trent!”

Travis turned to walk away, and I stood, stunned. Was he talking about Trenton before? So, Trenton was talking about me. Who else had he told? As Travis walked out through the thick, red door, a large group walked in, and then the crowd continued to trickle in after that. I was grateful that I didn’t have time to worry about whether or not there were rumors circulating, or if those rumors would get back to T.J.

Late the next morning, I walked into Skin Deep, already in a bad mood. T.J. hadn’t called or texted me back, which only fueled my paranoia about possible fallout from Trenton’s big mouth.

“Cami’s here!” Hazel said with a smile. She pushed black, thick-rimmed glasses up her nose.

I forced a smile. Hazel pouted her red-stained lips. “Why so sad? Did the Alpha Gamma party put you out of business last night?”

“Was that it? You went?”

She winked. “Gotta love sorority chicks. So what’s up with you?”

“Just tired,” I said, flipping the open sign.

“Heads up. Calvin is going to ask you to start working Sundays.”

“Are you serious?” I said, a little whinier than I’d intended. Today was not a good day to ask me to up my hours. By the time I rounded the counter, Trenton walked in.

“Chamomile!” he said. He was holding a bowl full of plastic fruit.

“Oh, please don’t. It wasn’t funny in middle school, and it’s definitely not funny now.”

Trenton shrugged. “I liked it.”

“You didn’t even know who I was in middle school.”

He frowned. “Says who?”

I made a show of looking around. “You didn’t speak to me until I grew tits.”

Hazel cackled. “Work has been so much more entertaining since she was hired!”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t know who you were,” Trenton said, unamused.

Hazel pointed to the bowl in Trenton’s arms. “What’s with the fruit?”

“For my room. It’s decoration.”

“It’s hideous,” she said.

“It was my mom’s,” he said, unfazed. “I decided I needed something of hers at work. Puts me in a good mood.” He walked down the hall and disappeared into his room.

“So,” Hazel said, leaning her elbows on the counter. Her thin, penciled eyebrow shot up. “The sexual tension around here is getting ridiculous.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you liked Calvin.”

Hazel wrinkled her nose. “No one likes Calvin.”

“I heard that!” Calvin called from down the hall.

“Good!” Hazel yelled back. “So, you’re really not interested in Trent?”

“Nope,” I said.

“Not even a little bit.”

“I have a boyfriend, and he makes me very happy,” I said, licking my thumb and counting forms.

“Damn,” Hazel said. “I kinda liked you two together.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” I said, straightening the stack in my hands before returning them to their bin.

The door chimed, and a group of four girls walked in: all blond, all tan, and all showcasing their double-D-cup breasts in tight shirts that were in various shades of pink.

I began to welcome them, but Hazel pointed to the door. The girls stopped in their tracks.

“C’mon, Hazel. We told him we’d stop by,” one of them whined.

“Out,” she said, still pointing with one finger, then looking down to turn a page of Cosmopolitan magazine with the other. When she didn’t hear the chime again, she looked up. “Are you fucking deaf? I said out!”

The girls frowned, and pouted for a few seconds before filing out the way they came in.

“What was that about?” I asked.

She shook her head and sighed. “Trent groupies. Bishop has them, too. Women who hang out at the shop, hoping to score free tattoos, or . . . I don’t know . . . that the guys score.” She rolled her eyes. “Quite frankly they annoy me, but up until recently they were allowed in.”

“What changed?”

Hazel shrugged. “Bishop stopped coming in as much, and Trenton told me to send them away not long after you started here. See? You’re not a total disappointment.” She elbowed me.

“I suppose I haven’t really been worth the paycheck. I can’t even mix the MadaCide right. Disinfectant is kind of important around here.”

“Shut the fuck up!” she said with a wry smile. “No one else could have talked Calvin into getting rid of the cheap Asian décor and restructuring the files. You’ve been here less than a month and we’re already more organized, and customers don’t wonder if they’ll get a free fortune cookie with their tattoo.”

“Thanks. It’s nice to feel appreciated.”

“I appreciate you,” Trenton said, walking into the lobby. “I appreciate that you’re finally going to watch Spaceballs with me tonight. I’m bringing it over.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head.

“Why not?”

“I’m working.”

“And then what?”

“Going to bed.”

“Bullshit.”

“You’re right. I have plans.”

He sneered. “With who?”

“I don’t know yet, but definitely not you.”

Hazel giggled. “Ouch.”

Trenton put his entire palm on Hazel’s tiny face and playfully pushed her away, keeping his hand on her as he spoke. “That’s not nice. I thought you said we’re friends.”

“We are,” I said.

Hazel finally struggled away from Trenton, and began slapping the shit out of his arm. Barely noticing, and only holding up one hand to fend her off, he continued, “Friends watch Spaceballs together.”

“We’re not that good of friends,” I said, concentrating on lining up the paper clips just right in their new organizer.

The door chimed, and two customers walked in: a couple. They were neck-deep in tattoos already.

“Hi,” I said with a smile. “How can I help you?”

“Rachel!” Hazel said, tackle-hugging the girl. She had an eyebrow piercing, a diamond for a beauty mark, and nose and lip rings. Her rocket-fire-red pixie cut almost glowed, it was so intense. Even with a head full of holes and arms covered in skulls and fairies, she was breathtaking. I sat back and watched them chat. Her boyfriend was tall and skinny, and just as glad to see Hazel. I couldn’t imagine either of them wanted more piercings or tattoos. Unless they wanted face tattoos, they had run out of blank skin to ink.

Hazel escorted them back to her room, and laughter and chatting ensued.

“It’s going to be a slow day.” Trenton sighed.

“You don’t know that. It just started.”

“I can always call it, though,” he said.

“Who are they?” I asked, nodding toward the hall.

“Rachel is Hazel’s sister.”

I raised an eyebrow, dubious. “Maybe this is ignorant, but Rachel isn’t Asian. Not even a little bit.”

“They’re both adopted. They were foster kids. There’s like a dozen of them or more. They’re spread all over the country now, and they all love each other like crazy. It’s awesome.”

I smiled at the thought.

“So you really won’t watch Spaceballs with me tonight?”

“Really.”

“Why not?” he said, crossing his arms and shifting his weight.

I smirked. “Getting ready for a fight?”

“Answer the question, Camlin. What do you have against Spaceballs? I need to know before we go any further.”

“Further than what?”

“You’re stalling.”

I sighed. “Between work and the Red, and . . . we’re seeing a lot of each other.”

He watched me for a moment, a hundred thoughts scrolling behind his warm russet eyes. He walked the few steps to stand next to me, putting the heel of his hand on the counter beside my hip, his chest touching my left arm. He leaned down, his mouth almost touching my hair. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” I said, my face compressing. He was confusing me, and way too close for me to think straight. I turned to tell him to back away, but when I looked up, I paused. He was right there. Inches away. Looking down at me with a look in his eyes I couldn’t decipher.

He looked down at my bare shoulder. “That’s a perfect spot for me to ink.”

I laughed once. “No.”

“Come on. You’ve seen my work.”

“I have,” I said, nodding emphatically. “It’s amazing.”

“Then what?”

I looked back up at him, trying to interpret his expression. “I don’t trust you. I’d probably end up with MAY THE SCHWARTZ BE WITH YOU.”

Trenton beamed. “Is that a Spaceballs reference? I’m impressed!”

“See? I’ve already seen it. A lot.”

“You can never see Spaceballs too much.”

Hazel, Rachel, and Rachel’s boyfriend returned to the lobby. Hazel gave Rachel a big hug, and then they said tearful goodbyes.

“Christmas is right around the corner,” Trenton said.

When Rachel left, Hazel was smiling, but a little sad. “Damn it. I love her.”

“You love all of them,” Trenton said. “If you get them on a monthly cycle, you could see one of them every day.”

Hazel elbowed Trenton, and he elbowed her back. They fought like brother and sister.

“So,” Hazel said, chomping on a piece of gum. “I heard you guys talking. I can’t believe you’re scared to get a tattoo.”

I shook my head. “Not at all.”

Calvin walked to the vestibule. “Has Bishop been in?” he asked.

Hazel shook her head. “No, Cal. You’ve already asked me that today. We were just discussing Cami’s first tattoo.”

Calvin’s scanned me from head to toe. “That’s bad for business, a receptionist that doesn’t have any tats. You can make it up to me by picking up some hours on Sunday.”

“Only if you let me start working on papers and homework when we’re not busy.”

He shrugged. “Deal.”

My shoulders fell. I didn’t expect him to agree.

“Let me pierce your nose,” Hazel said, her eyes bright.

“One of these days,” I said.

“Baby doll, don’t let them talk you into anything you don’t want to do. There’s no shame in being scared of needles,” Trenton said.

“I’m not scared,” I said, exasperated.

“Then let me ink you,” he said.

“You’re a bartender for Christ’s sake,” Hazel said. “You should have at least one tat.”

I glared at each of them. “Is this peer pressure? Because that’s lame.”

“How am I pressuring you? I just said not to let anyone talk you into anything,” Trenton said.

“And then you told me to let you give me a tat.”

He shrugged. “I admit it would be kickass to know I inked you first. It’s kind of like taking your virginity.”

“Well, that would require going back in time, and that’s not going to happen,” I said with a smirk.

“Exactly. This is the next best thing. Trust me,” he said, his voice low and smooth.

Hazel cackled. “Oh, God. I’m ashamed to admit that line totally worked on me.”

“Yeah?” I said, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. “From Trent?”

She burst out laughing again. “I wish!” She closed her eyes and cringed. “Bobby Prince. Smooth talker. Tiny penis.” She spoke the last sentence in falsetto, and held up her index finger and thumb, not even an inch apart.

We all shook with laughter. Hazel was dabbing the wet skin beneath her eyes. Once we regained our composure, I caught Trenton staring at me. Something in the way he was looking at me made me forget all about being responsible, and reason. For once, I just wanted to be young, and not think too hard or too much. “Okay, Trent. Pop my cherry.”

“Seriously?” he asked, standing up straight.

“Are we doing this or what?” I asked.

“What do you want?” He walked over to the computer and popped a pen in his mouth, holding it lengthwise in his teeth.

I thought for a moment, and then smiled. “Baby Doll. Across my fingers.”

“You’re shittin’ me,” Trenton said around the pen, stunned.

“No good?” I asked.

He chuckled and took the pen out of his mouth. “No, I like it . . . a lot . . . but that’s a helluva tattoo for a virgin.” He popped the pen back in, freeing up his hand to move the mouse.

I smirked. “If I’m going to lose it, I want to be broken in right.”

The pen fell from Trenton’s mouth to the floor, and he bent down to pick it up. “Uh . . . any, uh . . . any special font?” he said, glancing back at me once before drawing it up on the computer.

“I want it to look a little girly so I don’t look like I came straight from prison.”

“Color? Or black and white?”

“Black outline. I don’t know about color. Blue, maybe?”

“Like Smurf blue?” he teased. When I didn’t answer, he continued. “How about a gradient look. Blue at the bottom and then as I get higher on the letters it slowly fades out?”

“Radtastic,” I said, nudging him with my shoulder.

Once I decided on font and color, Trenton printed out the transfers, and I followed him back to his room.

I sat on the chair, and Trenton got his equipment ready.

“This is going to be badass,” Hazel said, sitting in a chair not far from me.

Trenton slipped on some latex gloves. “I’m just going to use a single needle. It’s still going to hurt like a bitch, though. Going to be right on the bone. You don’t have any fat on your fingers.”

“Or anywhere else,” Hazel said.

I winked at her.

Trenton laughed once as he cleaned each of my fingers with a green soap, wiped that off, and then put alcohol on a cotton square and rubbed each of the fingers he planned to tattoo. “It might not take the first time. You might have to get it done again.” He used one finger to wipe a tiny bit of Vaseline where he cleaned with alcohol.

“Really?” I said with a frown.

Hazel nodded. “Yeah. Feet do that, too.”

Trenton situated the transfers. “What do you think? Do they look straight? Is that how you want them?”

“Just make sure it’s spelled right. I don’t want to be one of those jackasses with a misspelled tattoo.”

Trenton chuckled. “It’s spelled right. I’d be a complete jerk-off if I couldn’t spell two four-letter words correctly.”

“You said it, not me,” I teased.

Hazel shook her head. “Don’t insult him before he permanently draws on your skin, girl!”

“He’ll make it beautiful, won’t you?” I asked.

Trenton turned on the machine, and then looked at me with a soft expression. “You’re already beautiful.”

I could feel my cheeks flush. When Trenton was sure the transfers were dry and he touched the needle to my skin, it was more of a nice distraction than excruciating pain. Trenton drew, then wiped, and repeated the process, concentrating hard. I knew he would make sure it was perfect. Even though the pain wasn’t as bad at first, as the minutes ticked by, the annoying burning I felt on my fingers each time he began to mark my skin made it very tempting to pull away.

“Done!” he said, barely fifteen minutes later. He cleaned off the smeared ink, revealing the letters on my fingers. The blue was so vivid. It was gorgeous. I faced the mirror, made fists, and held them together.

“Lookin’ good, baby doll,” Trenton said with a wide grin.

It was perfect.

“Damn, that’s badass,” Hazel said. “I want finger tats, now!”

Trenton handed me a few packages of Aquaphor. “Keep this on it. Good shit. Especially for color.”

“Thank you,” I said.

For just a moment, he stared at me as if he really had just taken my virginity. Butterflies swarmed in my stomach, and my chest felt warm. I took a few steps backward, and turned toward the vestibule. The phone rang, but Hazel answered for me.

Trenton leaned his elbows on the counter, smiling at me with the most ridiculous simper.

“Stop it,” I said, trying not to smile back.

“I didn’t say anything,” he said, still grinning like an idiot.

My cell phone buzzed, and then buzzed again. “Hey, Chase,” I said, already knowing why he was calling.

“Mom’s cooking tonight. See you at five.”

“I have to work. She knows I work weekends.”

“Which is why it’s family dinner instead of family lunch.”

I sighed. “I don’t get off until seven.”

“From where? You’re not working at the Red?”

“Yes . . .” I said, silently cussing myself for slipping. “I’m still bartending. I got a second job.”

“A second job? Why?” he asked, his voice full of disdain. Chase was a pacemaker rep and thought he was hot shit. He made good money, but he liked to pretend he was a doctor when, in fact, he just fetched coffee to suck up to the staff.

“I’m . . . helping out a friend.”

Chase was quiet for a long time, and then finally spoke. “Coby’s using again, isn’t he?”

I closed my eyes tight, not knowing what to say.

“Get your ass to Mom’s at five, or I’m coming to get you.”

“Fine,” I said, hanging up and tossing my phone on the counter. I put my hands on my hips and stared at the computer monitor.

“Everything okay?” Trenton asked.

“I just started a huge family fight. My mom’s heart is going to be broken, and it’s all somehow going to be my fault. Cal?” I yelled. “I’m going to have to leave at four thirty.”

“You don’t get off until seven!” he yelled from his office.

“It’s for family! She’s leaving at four thirty!” Hazel yelled back.

“Whatever, then!” Calvin said, not sounding all that upset.

“Cal!” Trenton yelled. “I’m going with her!”

Calvin didn’t answer, instead his door slammed, and he walked into the lobby. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Family dinner,” I said.

Calvin watched me with suspicious eyes for a moment, and then looked to Trenton. “Have you seen Bishop today?”

Trenton turned his head. “Nope. Have not.”

Calvin turned to me. “You really need backup to go home for dinner?” Calvin said, dubious.

“No.”

“Yeah, she does,” Trenton said. “Even though she won’t admit it.”

I couldn’t keep the pleading tone from my voice. “You don’t know what they’re like. And tonight is going to be . . . you don’t want to go, trust me.”

“You need at least one person at that table on your side, and that’s going to be me.”

How could I argue with that? Even though I didn’t want Trenton to see the insanity that was my family, it would be comforting when they inevitably decided that Coby’s relapse and their ignorance of it was somehow my fault. And then there would be the moment when Coby found out I’d ratted him out.

“Just don’t . . . punch anyone.”

“Deal,” he said, hugging me to his side.