Beautiful Oblivion (16 page)

I watched him for a while, and then pulled them both another beer. “Here. These are on me.”

“Thanks, sis,” Clark said.

“You okay?” Trenton asked when I walked back to my station.

I nodded. “They said Dad’s still pissed about Coby. I guess Dad and Coby have been fighting a lot. Dad’s been threatening to come over and set me straight.”

“Set you straight how, exactly?”

I shrugged. “When my brothers fall out of line, it somehow always falls back on me.”

“How does that play out? When he comes over pissed off?”

“He’s never come to my apartment before. But, I suppose if he’s mad enough, one of these days he will.”

Trenton didn’t respond, but he shifted in his chair, seeming very unsettled.

Blia came over and showed me the display on her cell phone. “Just got a text from Laney. She said the fight is over and most of them are headed this way.”

“Woo!” Raegan said as she walked behind the bar. She pulled out her empty tip jar—a hurricane glass—and set it on top of the bar. Marty immediately pulled out a twenty and dropped it in.

Raegan winked at him and smiled.

Trenton patted the bar a few times. “I’d better head out. Don’t want to be here when the dumb fucks from the fight get here and I end up almost killing someone. Again.”

I winked at him. “Mr. Responsible.”

“Text me later. I wanna hang out tomorrow,” he said, walking away.

“Again?” Raegan asked, her eyebrows floating near her hairline.

“Shut up,” I said, not wanting to even hear her opinion.

The postfight crowd trickled in at first, and then the Red was standing room only. The DJ was playing upbeat music, but it didn’t matter: the men were drunk and they all thought they were as invincible as Travis Maddox.

Within half an hour, Kody, Gruber, and Hank were all breaking up fights. At one point, most of the bar was in one massive clash, and Hank was throwing dozens out at a time. Police cruisers were parked outside, helping with the masses, and arresting some of the rowdier guys for public intoxication before they could get into their vehicles.

Before long, the bar was a ghost town again. The club music returned to classic rock and Top Forty, and Raegan was counting her tips, grumbling, and once in a while shouting a single curse word.

“Between you helping your brother and these shitty tips, we’ll be lucky to make bills this month. I need to start saving for a party dress sometime.”

“So bet on Travis,” I said. “That’s an easy fifty.”

“I have to have money to bet on Travis, first,” she snapped.

Someone sat down, hard, onto one of the barstools in front of me. “Whiskey,” he said. “And keep ’em coming.”

“Were your ears burning, Trav?” I asked, handing him a beer. “Doesn’t seem like a whiskey night to me.”

“You wouldn’t be the only females talking shit about me.” He tilted back his head and let the amber liquid slide down his throat, nearly in one gulp. The glass bottle crashed to the bar, and I popped the second top, setting the bottle before Travis.

“Someone’s talking shit on you? Not very smart of them,” I said, watching Travis light a cigarette.

“The pigeon,” he said, crossing his arms over the top of the bar. He leaned, hunched over, looking lost. I watched him for a moment, unsure if he was talking code or already drunk.

“Did you get hit harder than usual tonight?” I asked, genuinely concerned.

Another large group walked in, probably stragglers from the fight. They were happier and seemed to all get along, at least. Travis and I had to pause our conversation. For the next twenty minutes or so, I was too busy to chat, but when the last of the postfight crowd pushed through the red door to head home, I sat a glass of Jim Beam in front of Travis, and then topped it off. He still looked depressed. Maybe even more than before.

“Okay, Trav. Let’s hear it.”

“Hear what?” he asked, leaning away.

I shook my head. “The girl.” That was the only explanation for Travis Maddox having that look on his face. I’d never seen it before, so that could only mean one thing.

“What girl?”

I rolled my eyes. “What girl. Seriously? Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“All right, all right,” he said, looking around. He leaned in. “It’s Pigeon.”

“
Pigeon
? You’re joking.”

Travis managed a small laugh. “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 pussy. No . . . worse. I’m Shep.”

I laughed. “Be nice.”

“You’re right. Shepley’s a good guy.”

I poured him another drink, and he slammed it back.

“Be nice to yourself, too,” I said as I wiped off the counter. “Falling for someone isn’t a sin, Trav. Jesus.”

Travis’s eyes bounced from side to side. “I’m confused. You talking to me, or Jesus?”

“I’m serious,” I said. “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.”

Travis frowned. He wasn’t expecting that. “Thanks a lot.”

I poured him another drink. He tossed it down his throat before I could pull another beer from the cooler. I set the beer on the bar, and then held out my hands, palms up. “Based on your past behavior, do you disagree? My point is . . . maybe for her, you could be a better man.”

I poured him another shot. He immediately tilted back his head, opened his throat, and let it all wash down.

“You’re right. I’ve been a scumbag. Could I change? I don’t fuckin’ know. Probably not enough to deserve her.”

Travis’s eyes were already glassing over, so I set the bottle of Jim Beam back in its home, and then turned to my friend. He lit another cigarette. “Toss me another beer.”

“Trav, I think you’ve had enough already,” I said. He was too drunk to realize that he already had one.

“Cami, just fucking do it.”

I grabbed the glass bottle not six inches away, and placed it directly in his line of sight.

“Oh,” he said.

“Yeah. Like I said. You’ve had plenty to drink in the short time you’ve been here.”

“There’s not enough liquor in the world that could make me forget what she said tonight.” His words were slurring. Shit.

“What exactly did she say?” I asked.

“She said I wasn’t good enough. I mean . . . in a roundabout way, but that’s what she fucking meant. She thinks I’m a piece of shit, and I . . . I think I’m falling for her. I don’t know. I can’t think straight anymore. But when I got her home after the fight, and I knew she was there for a month”—he rubbed the back of his neck—“I think that’s the happiest I’ve ever been, Cami.”

My brows pulled together. I’d never seen him so distraught. “She’s staying with you for a month?”

“We made a bet tonight. If I didn’t get hit, she had to move in for a month.”

“That was your idea?” I asked. Damn. He was already in love with this girl and didn’t even know it.

“Yeah. I thought I was a fucking genius up until an hour ago.” He tilted the glass. “Another.”

“Nope. Drink your damn beer,” I said, pushing it toward him.

“I know I don’t deserve her. She’s”—his eyes lost focus—“incredible. There’s something in her eyes that’s familiar. Something I can relate to, ya know?”

I nodded. I knew exactly what he meant. I felt that way about a pair of eyes that looked a lot like his.

“So maybe you should talk to her about it,” I said. “Don’t have one of those stupid misunderstandings.”

“She’s got a date tomorrow night. With Parker Hayes.”

My nose wrinkled. “Parker Hayes? Haven’t you warned her about him?”

“She wouldn’t believe me. She’d just think I was saying that because I’m jealous.”

He was swaying in his chair. I was going to have to call him a cab.

“Aren’t you? Jealous?”

“Yeah, but he’s also a shit stick.”

“True.”

Travis tilted his beer bottle and took a big swig. His eyelids were heavy. He wasn’t pacing himself at all.

“Trav . . .”

“Not tonight, Cami. I just want to get drunk.”

I nodded. “Looks like you’ve accomplished that. Want me to call a cab?”

He shook his head slightly.

“Fine, but find a ride home.” He tried to take another swig of his beer, but I held onto the neck of the bottle until he made eye contact. “I mean it.”

“I heard you.”

I let go, and then watched him finish off the bottle.

“Trent was talking about you the other day,” he said.

“Oh yeah?”

“I’m going to get her a puppy,” Travis said. At least he was too drunk to stay on the subject of Trenton. “Think Trent will keep him for me?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“Aren’t you guys attached at the hip these days?”

“Not really.”

Travis’s face compressed. “This is awful,” he said, his words melding together. “Who fucking wants to feel like this? Who would purposefully do this to themselves?”

“Shepley,” I said with a smile.

He raised both eyebrows. “You ain’t fuckin’ kiddin’.” After a short pause, his face fell. “What do I do, Cami? Tell me what to do, because I don’t fuckin’ know.”

I shook my head. “You’re sure she doesn’t want you?”

Travis looked up at me with sad eyes. “That’s what she said.”

I shrugged. “Then you try to forget about her.”

Travis looked down at his empty bottle. The two girls from State who Trenton had left behind the night before began buying Travis drinks, and before long, he could barely stay on his stool. For the next hour and a half, he’d fully committed to finding the bottom of every bottle he could get his hands on.

The Southern State sisters took a stool on each side of Travis. I walked away, tending to my regulars for a while. I wouldn’t be surprised if they thought he was Trenton. The youngest four Maddox boys looked so much alike, and Travis was wearing a white T-shirt that looked a lot like what Trenton had been wearing.

From the corner of my eye, I saw one of the girls drape her leg over Travis’s thigh. The other turned his face, and then they were sucking face in a way that made me feel like a pervert for watching.

“Uh, Travis?” I said.

He stood up and threw a one-hundred-dollar bill on the bar. He held his finger up to his lips, and then winked. “This is me. Forgetting.”

The girls walked on each side of him, and he leaned on them, barely able to walk.

“Travis! They better be your ride home!” I yelled.

He didn’t acknowledge me.

Raegan laughed. “Oh, Travis,” she said. “He’s certainly entertaining.”

I crossed my arms across my stomach. “I hope they get a hotel room.”

“Why?” Raegan asked.

“Because the girl he’s in love with is at his apartment. And if those State girls go home with him, he is going to wake up in the morning and hate himself.”

“He’ll figure a way out of it. He always does.”

“Yeah, but this time it’s different. He was pretty desperate. If he loses that girl, I don’t know what he’ll do.”

“He’ll get drunk, and then get laid. That’s what all the Maddox boys do.” I craned my neck at her, and she offered an apologetic smile. “I warned you a long time ago not to get mixed up with them. You have yet to listen to any of my advice.”

“You should talk,” I said, reaching up and pulling the horn for last call.

I
CAN’T BELIEVE YOU LET HIM TALK YOU INTO KEEPING THE
dog,” I said, shaking my head.

Trenton stretched out on my couch, covering his eyes with his arm. “It’s just for a couple more days. Travis is throwing Abby a surprise party on Sunday, and he’s going to give it to her then. The puppy’s actually kind of cute. I’m going to miss him.”

“Did you name him?”

“No,” Trenton said, making a face. “Okay, I kind of named him. But Abby’s going to name him, so it’s not permanent. I explained that to him.”

I chuckled. “Are you going to tell me?”

“No, because it’s not his name.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Trenton smiled, his arm still covering his eyes. “Crook.”

“Crook?”

“He steals my dad’s socks and hides them. He’s a little criminal.”

“I like it,” I said. “Raegan’s birthday is coming up, too. I need to get her something. She’s so hard to shop for.”

“Get her one of those GPS stickers for her keys.”

“That’s not a bad idea. When is your birthday?”

Trenton smiled. “July fourth.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not bullshitting you.”

“Is your real name Yankee Doodle?”

“I haven’t heard that one before,” he deadpanned.

“Aren’t you going to ask when mine is?”

“I already know.”

“No, you don’t.”

He didn’t hesitate. “May sixth.”

My eyebrows shot up.

“Chamomile. I’ve known since, like, the fourth grade.”

“
How
do you remember that?”

“Your grandparents sent you balloons every year on the same day until you graduated.”

My eyes wandered as my mind did. “One balloon for every year. I had to stuff eighteen balloons into the Smurf my senior year. I miss them.” I snapped out of it. “Wait a minute . . . you
are
bullshitting me. Isn’t Travis’s birthday April Fool’s Day?”

“April first, yeah.”

“And yours is on Independence Day?”

“Yeah, and Thomas’s is on St. Patrick’s Day, and the twins were born January first.”

“You are such a liar! Taylor and Tyler’s birthday is in March! They came in to celebrate at the Red last year!”

“No, Thomas’s birthday is in March. They came to help him celebrate and just said it was their birthday to get free shots.”

I glared at him.

He chuckled. “I swear!”

“Maddox boys can’t be trusted.”

“I resent that.”

I looked at my watch. “It’s almost time for work. We better get going.”

Trenton sat up, and then rested his elbows on his knees. “I can’t keep coming to see you at the Red every night and then working all day. It’s exhausting.”