IT DIDN’T TAKE CAMI LONG TO FIGURE OUT I WASN’T good company. She kept the beers coming as I sat in my usual stool at the bar of The Red. Colors from the lights above chased one another around the room, and the music was almost loud enough to drown out my thoughts.
My pack of Marlboro Reds was nearly gone, but that wasn’t the reason for the heavy feeling in my chest. A few girls had come and gone, trying to strike up conversation, but I couldn’t lift my line of sight from the half-burnt cigarette nestled between two of my fingers. The ash was so long it was just a matter of time until it fell away, so I just watched the remaining embers flicker against the paper, trying to keep my mind off of what sinking feelings the music couldn’t muffle.
When the crowd at the bar thinned, and Cami wasn’t moving a thousand miles per hour, she sat an empty shot glass in front of me, and then filled it to the brim with Jim Beam. I grabbed for it, but she covered my black leather wristband with her tattooed fingers that spelled baby doll when she held her fists together.
“Okay, Trav. Let’s hear it.”
“Hear what?” I asked, making a feeble attempt to pull away.
She shook her head. “The girl?”
The glass touched my lips, and I tilted my head back, letting the liquid burn down my throat. “What girl?”
Cami rolled her eyes. “What girl. Seriously? Who do you think you’re talking to?”
“All right, all right. It’s Pigeon.”
“Pigeon? You’re joking.”
I laughed once. “Abby. She’s a pigeon. A demonic pigeon that fucks with my head so bad I can’t think straight. Nothing makes sense anymore, Cam. Every rule I’ve ever made’s getting broken one by one. I’m a *. No . . . worse. I’m Shep.”
Cami laughed. “Be nice.”
“You’re right. Shepley’s a good guy.”
“Be nice to yourself, too,” she said, throwing a rag on the counter and pushing it around in circles. “Falling for someone isn’t a sin, Trav, Jesus.”
I looked around. “I’m confused. You talking to me or Jesus?”
“I’m serious. So you have feelings for her. So what?”
“She hates me.”
“Nah.”
“No, I heard her tonight. By accident. She thinks I’m a scumbag.”
“She said that?”
“Pretty much.”
“Well, you kinda are.”
I frowned. “Thanks a lot.”
She held out her hands, her elbows on the bar. “Based on your past behavior, do you disagree? My point is . . . maybe for her, you wouldn’t be. Maybe for her, you could be a better man.” She poured another shot, and I didn’t give her the chance to stop me before throwing it back.
“You’re right. I’ve been a scumbag. Could I change? I don’t fucking know. Probably not enough to deserve her.”
Cami shrugged, holstering the bottle back in its spot. “I think you should let her be the judge of that.”
I lit a cigarette, taking a deep breath, and adding my lungfuls of smoke to the already murky room. “Toss me another beer.”
“Trav, I think you’ve had enough already.”
“Cami, just fucking do it.”
I WOKE UP WITH THE EARLY AFTERNOON SUN SHINING through the blinds, but it might as well have been noon in the middle of a white sand desert. My lids instantly closed, rejecting the light.
A combination of morning breath, chemicals, and cat piss stuck to the inside of my dry mouth. I hated the inevitable cotton mouth that came after a hard night of drinking.
My mind instantly searched for memories from the night before but came up with nothing. Some type of partying was a given, but where or with who was a complete mystery.
I looked to my left, seeing the covers pulled back. Abby was already up. My bare feet felt weird against the floor as I trudged down the hall and found Abby asleep in the recliner. Confusion made me pause, and then panic settled in. My brain sloshed through the alcohol still weighing down my thoughts. Why didn’t she sleep in the bed? What had I done to make her sleep in the chair? My heart began beating fast, and then I saw them: two empty condom wrappers.
Fuck. Fuck! The night before came crashing back to me in waves: drinking more, those girls not going away when I told them to, and finally my offer to show them both a good time—at the same time—and their enthusiastic endorsement of the idea.
My hands flew up to my face. I’d brought them here. Bagged them here. Abby had probably heard everything. Oh, God. I couldn’t have fucked up any worse. This was beyond bad. As soon as she woke, she would pack her shit and leave.
I sat on the couch, my hands still cupped over my mouth and nose, and watched her sleep. I had to fix this. What could I do to fix this?
One stupid idea after another flipped through my mind. Time was running out. As quietly as I could, I rushed to the bedroom and changed clothes, and then snuck into Shepley’s room.
America stirred, and Shepley’s head popped up. “What are you doing, Trav?” he whispered.
“I gotta borrow your car. Just for a sec. I have to go pick up a few things.”
“Okay . . . ,” he said, confused.