I checked Travis in, and once he signed the forms, the Maddoxes walked back to Trenton’s room.
“You’re fucking kidding me!” Trenton yelled, howling with laughter. “You’re such a *!”
“Shut up, cocksucker, and just do it!”
Hazel walked into the hall and stood in Trenton’s doorway. Soon she was laughing, too. The tattoo machine began to buzz, and over the next hour, Trenton’s room was full of laughter and playful insults.
When they met back up at the counter, Travis had a bandage over his wrist. He was beaming. Shepley was not.
“This has fucked me so many ways,” he grumbled.
Trenton slapped and then gripped Shepley’s shoulders. “Oh, Shep. It’s going to be okay. Travis will work his magic, and Abby will be fine with it.”
“Abby? I’m talking about America!” he said. “What if she’s pissed because I didn’t brand myself with her name? What if Abby’s not fine with it, she dumps Travis, and then it causes problems with Mare and me? I’m fucked!”
The brothers laughed, and Shepley mocked them, clearly not amused with their lack of concern.
Trenton smiled at his baby brother. “I’m happy for ya.”
Travis couldn’t contain the broad smile that lit his entire face. “Thanks, asshole.” A shoulder-to-shoulder bro hug commenced, and then Travis and Shepley loaded into the Charger and left.
Trenton was smiling when he turned around, but the moment his eyes fell on me, it faded, and he walked back to his room.
I sat alone at the desk, listening to his and Hazel’s whispering. I stood up and walked back to his room. He was just wiping off the chair. Hazel sat up straight, her eyes meeting Trenton’s and then looking to me to signal that I was there.
“What are you guys whispering about?” I asked, trying to smile.
“Isn’t my next client coming in soon?” Hazel asked.
I looked at the small metal clock on the wall. “Eleven minutes. Trent, you don’t have an appointment anytime soon. Barring any walkins, it would be a good time to start the outline for that tat we talked about a while back.”
He looked at me while he cleaned, and then shook his head. “I can’t today, Cami.”
“Why not?” I asked.
Hazel strolled out, letting us be alone.
Trenton reached over and dug into the candy bowl sitting on the counter closest to him. He unwrapped a small sucker and popped it in his mouth. “Jason said he might come in this afternoon around now if he got out of practice on time.”
I frowned. “Just say you don’t want to, Trent. Don’t lie.” I walked off, and sat on the stool behind the front desk in a huff. Not ten minutes later, a truck pulled into the parking lot, and Jason Brazil breezed through the door. “Is Trent busy?” he asked.
I hunched over and sank back into my seat. My entire face felt like it had caught fire as the adrenaline from pure humiliation burned through my veins.
“You okay?” Brazil asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “He’s back there.”
Day after day Trenton ignored me, but I didn’t dare confront him after that. It was particularly hurtful because his rapport with Hazel hadn’t changed, and he was more than chatty with Raegan when he came to the Red. He was deliberately giving me the cold shoulder, and I hated it.
The second Saturday in November, Trenton strolled into the Red alone and sat at his new favorite stool in front of Raegan. She was busy with her regular, Marty, but Trenton sat there patiently, not once looking over to me for service. My heart sank. The past weeks of being around Trenton had taught me an appreciation for the misery Kody went through every Wednesday through Sunday night since he and Raegan had broken up. I looked over to Kody, seeing him glance in Raegan’s direction with sad eyes. He did that dozens of times every night.
My regular, Baker, had a full, frosted mug, so I walked over to Raegan’s side of the bar, popped the top off Trenton’s favorite beer, and handed it to him.
He nodded once and then reached for it, but something came over me, and I yanked it away.
Trenton’s eyes popped up to meet mine for less than a second, a combination of shock and confusion on his face.
“Okay, Maddox. It’s been five weeks.”
“Five weeks of what?” Trenton asked.
“Miller Lite!” a guy called from behind Trenton. I acknowledged him with a nod, and then lowered my chin at Trenton, crossing my arms and letting his beer bottle sit snugly in the crook of my arm.
“Five weeks of pretending,” I said.
Trenton looked behind him on each side, and everywhere but at me. He shook his head a couple of times. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Okay. So you hate me.” The words felt like poison coming out of my mouth. “Want me to quit Skin Deep?”
“What?” he said, finally looking at me for the first time in weeks.
“I can do it if that’s what you need.”
“Why would you quit?” he asked.
“You answer my question, first.”
“What question?”
“Do you hate me?”
“Cami, I could never hate you. Even if I wanted to. Trust me, I’ve tried.”
“Then why won’t you talk to me?”
His face screwed into disgust. He started to speak, and then changed his mind. He lit a cigarette and took a drag.
I pulled it from between his fingers and broke it in half.
“C’mon, Cami!”
“I’m sorry, okay? Can we at least talk about this?”
“No!” he said, getting more agitated by the second. “What’s the fucking point?”
“Wow. Thanks.”
“You walked away from me, Cami.”
“I don’t deserve for you to talk to me, I get it. I’ll give Cal my notice tomorrow.”
Trenton’s face contorted. “That’s fucking stupid.”
“We’re both miserable. I don’t like it any more than you do, but what’s stupid is being around each other when we don’t have to be.”
“Fine.”
“Fine?” I wasn’t sure what I expected him to say, but it wasn’t that. I tried to choke back the lump that formed in my throat, but instead it just got bigger and tears began to form in my eyes.
He reached out for me. “Can I have my beer now?”
I laughed once, in disbelief. “You wanted a reaction when you kissed me and you got one.”
“If I’d known you were going to get on a flight to California and fuck someone else a few hours later, I might have reconsidered.”
“Do you really want to keep track of who’s fucked who lately?” I sat his beer down and began to walk back to my station.
“I’m trying to handle this!”
I flipped around. “Well, you’re sucking at it!”
Raegan was staring at us, along with everyone else within shouting distance.
“You saw Travis on Halloween! He’s out of control over this girl! She left the morning after he bagged her the first time without telling him good-bye, and he trashed his fucking apartment! Trust me, I would love to bash something or someone, but I don’t have that luxury, Cami. I have to keep it together! I don’t need you judging me about what I do to keep my mind off of you!”
“Don’t make excuses. Especially not stupid ones, it’s just insulting.”
“You . . . I . . . fucking shit lord, Camille! I thought that’s what you wanted!”
“Why would I want that? You’re my best friend!” I felt a tear fall down my cheek, and I quickly wiped it away.
“Because you’re back with Califucktard!”
“Back with him? If you would just talk to me, we could clear this up. We could—”
“Not that you’ve ever been with him,” he grumbled, swiping the bottle off the bar. He took a swig, muttering something under his breath.
“What?” I snapped.
“I said if you like being a backup plan, that’s fine with me!”
“Miller Lite, Cami!” the guy yelled again, this time less patient.