Beautiful Oblivion (19 page)

We were at a corner table, against the far wall of T.J.’s favorite neighborhood restaurant, Brooklyn Girl. The gray walls and simple but modern décor looked a lot like his apartment. Clean, everything in its place, and yet inviting.

T.J. sighed and sat back against his chair. “This isn’t going how I wanted at all.” He leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. “I work fifty hours a week, Camille. I just don’t have time for . . .”

“Me,” I said finishing the cringeworthy sentence for him.

“Anything. I barely see my family. I talk to you more than I do them.”

“Thanksgiving?”

“It’s looking more likely as this assignment moves forward.”

I offered a small smile. “I don’t mind that you were late. I know you work long hours. I knew I wouldn’t see you much when I got here.”

“But you came,” he said, reaching across the table for my hand.

I sat back, putting my hands in my lap. “But I can’t drop everything every time you decide you want to see me.”

His shoulders fell, but he was still smiling. For whatever reason, he was amused. “I know. And that’s fair.”

I leaned forward again to poke at my salad with the fork. “He came to the airport.”

“Trenton?”

I nodded.

T.J. was quiet for a long time, and then he finally spoke. “What’s going on with you two?”

I squirmed in my seat. “I told you. We’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

“What kind of time together?”

I frowned. “We watch TV. We sit around and talk. We go out to eat. We work together.”

“Work together?”

“At Skin Deep.”

“You quit the Red? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t quit. Coby had some trouble paying bills. I took a second job until he got back on his feet.”

“I’m sorry. About Coby.”

I nodded, not really wanting to get too far into that subject.

“Did Trenton do that?” he asked, lowering his chin and looking at my fingers.

I nodded.

He took in a deep breath, just as he was taking in the reality of the situation. “So you mean you spend a
lot
of time together.”

I winced. “Yes.”

“Has he spent the night?”

I shook my head. “No. But we . . . he . . .”

T.J. nodded. “Kissed you. You mentioned that. Is he seeing anyone?”

“Just me, mostly.”

T.J. raised an eyebrow. “Has he been to the Red?”

“Yes. But no more than usual. Maybe even less.”

“Still taking girls home?” he said, half joking.

“No.”

“
No
?” he asked, surprised.

“Not at all. Not since . . .”

“He started pursuing you.” I shook my head again. T.J. looked down. “Wow.” He laughed once in disbelief. “Trenton’s in love.” He looked up at me. “With you.”

“You act surprised. You loved me once, you know.”

“I still do.”

I closed my eyes tight. “How? How could you possibly feel that way after everything I’ve just told you?”

He kept his voice low. “I know I’m not good for you right now, Camille. I can’t be there for you like you need me to be, and probably can’t for a long time. It’s hard to blame you when I know that our relationship is based on sporadic phone calls and texts.”

“But you told me that when we met. You said it would be this way, and I told you that it was okay. That I was willing to make it work.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Sticking to your word?” T.J. searched my eyes for a moment, and then sighed. He drank the last bit of his white wine, and then set the empty glass down on the side of his plate.

“Do you love him?”

I froze for a moment, feeling like a cornered animal. He’d been giving me the third degree since the server set our dinner on the table, and I was becoming emotionally exhausted. Seeing him for the first time, and then being alone with my thoughts all day . . . it was too much. I was a runner without anywhere to go. My flight didn’t leave until the next morning. Finally, I covered my face with my hands. Once I closed my eyes, the tears were pushed over my lower lids and down my cheeks.

T.J. sighed. “I’m going to say that’s a yes.”

“You know how you know you love someone? You get that feeling that doesn’t go away. I still feel that for you.”

“I feel the same way. But I always knew this would be too hard on you.”

“People do it all the time.”

“Yes, but they talk more than eight or nine times a month.”

“So you knew it was over? Why bring me out here, then? To tell me it was okay that I couldn’t make it work?”

“I thought maybe if you were here, with me, we could both get a sense of what was really going on with you—if it was just too hard because we hadn’t seen each other in a while, or if you really had feelings for Trenton.”

I began to cry into my napkin again. I suspected people were surely staring, but I didn’t dare look up to check. “This is so humiliating,” I said, trying not to sob.

“It’s okay, honey. It’s just us.”

I lowered my hands just enough to look around. He was right. We were the last two customers in the restaurant. I was so preoccupied, I hadn’t even noticed.

“Can I get anything else for you, sir?” the server said. I didn’t have to see her face to know she was curious about what was going on at our table.

“Bring us the bottle,” T.J. said.

“Of the white?”

“Of the white,” T.J. said in his confident, smooth voice.

“Y-yes, sir,” she said. I could hear her shoes tap the floor as she walked away.

“Aren’t they closing soon?”

“Not for twenty minutes. We can kill a bottle by then, right?”

“Not a problem,” I said, faking amusement. At the moment, all I felt was sad, guilty, and ashamed.

His small, contrived smile faded. “You’re leaving tomorrow. We don’t need to make any decisions tonight. Or even tomorrow. Let’s just enjoy our time together.” He reached across the table, and intertwined his fingers in mine.

After a moment’s pause, I pulled away. “I think we both already know what’s happened.”

With sadness in his eyes, T.J. nodded.

My eyes popped open when the airplane wheels touched down, and I looked around, seeing everyone around me pulling out their cell phones and texting friends, family, or colleagues about their arrival. I didn’t bother turning my phone back on. Raegan would be at her parents’, and my family didn’t even know I’d been gone.

T.J. and I went to bed as soon as we got back to the town house the night before, knowing we both had to be up before sunrise to get me to the airport on time. He held me in his arms all night like he didn’t want to let me go, but the next morning at the airport, he hugged and kissed me good-bye like he meant it. It was forced, and sad, and distant.

I pushed the Smurf’s gearshift into Park, and stepped out onto the asphalt. Part of me hoped Trenton would be sitting on the cement in front of my door, but he wasn’t.

San Diego had been nearly balmy, and now I was back where my breath was visible. The air actually hurt my face. How does air hurt your face?

I unlocked the door, pushed through it, let it slam behind me, and then trudged to my bedroom, falling face-first into my wonderfully messy bed.

Raegan padded down the hall in her bare feet. “How was it?” she asked from the doorway.

“I don’t know.”

The floor creaked under her as she walked to my bed and sat next to me. “Are you still together?”

“No.”

“Oh. Well . . . that’s good, right? I mean, even though T.J. hadn’t spoken to you until Trent kissed you, and suddenly he bought you a ticket to California . . .”

“Not tonight, Ray.”

“Trenton came by the Red tonight. He looked pretty awful.”

“Yeah? Did he leave with anyone?” I peeked out from the pillow.

Raegan hesitated. “Right before last call. He was sloppy drunk.”

I nodded, and then buried my face in the pillow.

“Just . . . tell him,” Raegan pleaded. “Tell him about T.J.”

“I can’t,” I said. “And you can’t, either. You promised.”

“I still don’t understand what all the secrecy is about.”

“You don’t have to,” I said, looking up at her, straight into her eyes. “You just have to keep the secret.”

Raegan nodded. “I will.”

It seemed like I’d barely closed my eyes when Raegan was shaking me awake.

I groaned.

“You’re going to be late for work, Cami! Get your ass up!”

I didn’t budge.

“You just took off two days, last-minute. Cal is going to fire your ass! Get up!” She clasped her hands around my ankle and dragged me until I fell off the bed, hard.

“Ow! Damn it, Ray!”

She leaned down. “It’s eleven thirty! Get up!”

I looked at the clock and then jumped up, racing around my bedroom and swearing repeatedly. Barely brushing my teeth, I resorted to a bun and glasses. The Smurf didn’t want to wake up, either, and she whirred like a dying cat before finally starting up.

The clock on the wall at Skin Deep said 12:07 when I walked through the door. Hazel was already on the phone, and Calvin stood next to her, frowning.

“What the hell are you wearing?” he asked.

I looked down at my plum skinny jeans and black-and-white horizontal-striped long-sleeved shirt. “Clothes.”

“I hired you to be the hot piece of ass at the counter, and you look like my cousin Annette. What is this look?” he asked Hazel.

“Hipster,” she said briefly before returning to her conversation.

“Yeah. Like my hipster cousin Annette. Next time you come in, I want to see cleavage and sex hair!” he said, holding up one finger, and then two.

“What the hell is sex hair?” I asked.

Calvin shrugged. “You know. Messy, but sexy. Like you just had sex.”

Hazel slammed the phone down. “Everything that comes out of your mouth is offensive. Hot piece of ass? Cleavage? You’re a walking sexual harassment lawsuit!”

Calvin wasn’t fazed.

“Is it the shoes?” I asked, looking down at my favorite black combat boots.

“The scarf!” he said, pointing all four fingers at me. “What is the point in having a nice rack if you’re going to cover it up?”

Hazel smiled. “It’s a cute scarf. I need a black one like yours.”

Calvin frowned. “It’s not cute! I don’t want cute! I hired a sexy, edgy bartender, and I got a hipster in a bun with no tattoos! I can handle you taking off and coming in whenever the fuck you feel like it, but it’s just wrong walking around here with a clean palette for skin. It looks bad if our own employees don’t trust us enough to ink them!”

“Are you about finished?” Hazel deadpanned. She looked at me. “He started his period this morning.”

“Fuck you, Hazel!” Calvin snapped, stomping down the hall to his office.

“Fuck you back!” she yelled.

Calvin poked his head around the corner. “Has Bishop been in?”

“Godammit, Cal, no! For the third time today, he hasn’t been in!” Calvin nodded, and then disappeared again. Hazel frowned for half a second before turning to me with a smile.

“I think I’ll show him my fingers today. Might take the edge off.”

“No way,” she said. “Let him stew.” She was quiet for a minute, clearly working up to something, and then she elbowed me. “So. California.”

“Yeah,” I said, cocking my head while I pulled my purse over it. I tossed my bag on the counter and then logged onto the computer. “About that . . .”

The door chimed, and Trenton walked in, wearing a puffy navy-blue coat and a dirty white ball cap that was pulled low, shadowing his eyes. “Morning, ladies,” he said, walking past us.

“Morning, sunshine,” Hazel said, watching him pass.

He disappeared into his room, and Hazel shot me a look. “You mind-fucked him so hard.”

I sighed. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s good for him. No man should get every woman he wants. Keeps their douchebaggery to a tolerable level.”

“I’m just going to . . .” I said, pointing down the hall. Hazel nodded.

Trenton was busy setting up his equipment when I walked into the room. Crossing my arms and leaning against the doorjamb while he ignored me was acceptable for the first few minutes, but then I began to feel stupid.

“Are you ever going to speak to me again?” I asked.

He kept his eyes on his equipment, and laughed once. “Sure, baby doll. I’ll talk to you. What’s up?”

“Calvin says I need more ink.”

“Do you want more ink?”

“Only if you do it.”

He still didn’t look at me. “I don’t know, Cami, I’ve got a pretty full day.”

I watched him for a moment while he busied himself with organizing white packages full of various sanitized tools. “Just sometime. Doesn’t have to be today.”

“Yeah, sure. No problem,” he said, picking through a drawer.

After another minute of Trenton pretending I wasn’t there, I walked back to the vestibule. He had been truthful. He had one customer after another, but even when he had a little time in between, he only came to the counter once, and that was to chat with a potential new client. The rest of the day he stayed in his room, or talked to Calvin in his office. Hazel didn’t seem concerned with his behavior, but she never seemed to be unsettled by anything.

Trenton didn’t come into the Red that night, and the next day was another six hours of Operation Ignore Cami, as was the next day, and every day after that for three weeks. I spent a lot more time on papers and studying. Raegan was spending more time with Brazil, so I was grateful when Coby popped over for a visit one Monday evening.

Identical bowls of steaming chicken noodle soup sat on the breakfast bar between us.

“You look better,” I said.

“I feel better. You were right, a program made it easier.”

“How are things at home?” I asked.

Coby shrugged. “The same.”

I picked at the noodles swimming around in my bowl. “He’s never going to change, you know.”

“I know. Just trying to get my shit together so I can get my own place.”

“Good idea,” I said, taking a bite.

“Let’s take these to the couch and watch a movie,” Coby said.

I nodded, and Coby set my bowl next to him on the cushion while I looked through DVD cases. My breath caught when I came across
Spaceballs
. Trenton had left it here the last time we’d watched it.