Beautiful Disaster

  “It’s okay, baby. It’s back on your finger,” I said, giggling at his overreaction.

  He kissed my forehead, pulling me to his side as we made our way to the terminal. When I caught the eyes of those we passed, I wondered if it was obvious that we were newlyweds, or if they simply noticed the ridiculous grin on Travis’s face, a stark contrast to his shaved head, inked arms, and bulging muscles.

  The airport was abuzz with excited tourists, the beeping and ringing of slot machines, and people meandering in every direction. I smiled at a young couple holding hands, looking as excited and nervous as Travis and I did when we arrived. I didn’t doubt that they would leave feeling the same mixture of relief and bewilderment that we felt.

  In the terminal, I thumbed through a magazine, and gently touched Travis’s wildly bouncing knee. His leg froze and I smiled, keeping my eyes on the pictures of celebrities. He was nervous about something, but I waited for him to tell me, knowing he was working it out internally. After a few minutes, his knee bobbed again, but this time he stopped it on his own and then slowly slumped down into his chair.

  “Pigeon?”

  “Yeah?”

  A few moments passed, and then he sighed. “Nothing.”

  The time passed too quickly, and it seemed we had just sat down when our flight number was called to board. A line quickly formed, and we stood up, waiting our turn to show our tickets and walk down the long hall to the airplane that would take us home.

  Travis hesitated. “I can’t shake this feeling,” he said under his breath.

  “What do you mean? Like a bad feeling?” I said, suddenly nervous.

  He turned to me with concern in his eyes. “I have this crazy feeling that once we get home, I’m going to wake up. Like none of this was real.”

  I slid my arms around his waist, running my hands up the lean muscles of his back. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

  He looked down to his wrist and then glanced to the thick silver band on his left finger. “I just can’t shake the feeling that the bubble’s going to burst, and I’m going to be lying in my bed alone, wishing you were there with me.”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, Trav! I’ve dumped someone for you—twice—I’ve picked up and gone to Vegas with you—twice—I’ve literally gone through hell and back, married you, and branded myself with your name. I’m running out of ideas to prove to you that I’m yours.”

  A small smile graced his lips. “I love it when you say that.”

  “That I’m yours?” I asked. I leaned up on the balls of my feet, pressing my lips against his. “I. Am. Yours. Mrs. Travis Maddox. Forever and always.”

  His small smile faded as he looked at the boarding gate and then down to me. “I’m gonna fuck it up, Pigeon. You’re gonna get sick of my shit.”

  I laughed. “I’m sick of your shit now. I still married you.”

  “I thought once we got married, that I’d feel a little more reassured about losing you. But I feel like if I get on that plane …”

  “Travis? I love you. Let’s go home.”

  His eyebrows pulled in. “You won’t leave me, right? Even when I’m a pain in the ass?”

  “I vowed in front of God—and Elvis—that I wouldn’t, didn’t I?”

  His frown lightened a bit. “This is forever, right?”

  One corner of my mouth turned up. “Would it make you feel better if we made a wager?”

  Other passengers began to walk around us, however slowly, watching and listening to our ridiculous conversation. As before, I was glaringly aware of prying eyes, but this time was different. The only thing I could think about was the peace returning to Travis’s eyes.

  “What kind of husband would I be if I bet against my own marriage?”

  I smiled. “The stupid kind. Didn’t you listen to your dad when he told you not to bet against me?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “So you’re that sure, huh? You’d bet on it?”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and smiled against his lips. “I’d bet my firstborn. That’s how sure I am.”

  And then the peace returned.

  “You can’t be that sure,” he said, the anxiousness absent from his voice.

  I raised an eyebrow, my mouth pulling up on the same side. “Wanna bet?”

  Travis Maddox move aside, Trenton is coming to town!

  If you loved Beautiful Disaster, turn the page… you will be pre-ordering so fast you won’t know what to do with yourselves!

  AVAILABLE IN PAPERBACK AND eBOOK

  1ST JULY 2014

  CHAPTER ONE

  HIS WORDS HUNG THERE, IN THE DARKNESS BETWEEN OUR voices. I sometimes found comfort in that space, but in three months, I’d only found unrest. That space became more like a convenient place to hide. Not for me, for him. My fingers ached, so I allowed them to relax, not realizing how hard I’d been gripping my cell phone.

  My roommate, Raegan, was sitting next to my open suitcase on the bed, her legs crisscrossed. Whatever look was on my face prompted her to take my hand. T.J.? she mouthed.

  I nodded.

  “Will you please say something?” T.J. asked.

  “What do you want me to say? I’m packed. I took vacation time. Hank has already given Jorie my shifts.”

  “I feel like a huge asshole. I wish I didn’t have to go, but I warned you. When I have an ongoing project, I can be called out at any time. If you need help with rent or anything . . .”

  “I don’t want your money,” I said, rubbing my eyes.

  “I thought this would be a good weekend. I swear to God I did.”

  “I thought I’d be getting on a plane tomorrow morning, and instead you’re calling me to say I can’t come. Again.”

  “I know this seems like a dick move. I swear to you I told them I had important plans. But when things come up, Cami . . . I have to do my job.”

  I wiped a tear from my cheek, but I refused to let him hear me cry. I kept the trembling from my voice. “Are you coming home for Thanksgiving, then?”

  He sighed. “I want to. But I don’t know if I can. It depends on if this is wrapped up. I do miss you. A lot. I don’t like this, either.”

  “Will your schedule ever get better?” I asked. It took him longer than it should to answer.

  “What if I said probably not?”

  I lifted my eyebrows. I expected that answer but didn’t expect him to be so . . . truthful.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. I imagined him cringing. “I just pulled into the airport. I have to go.”

  “Yeah, okay. Talk to you later.” I forced my voice to stay level. I didn’t want to sound upset. I didn’t want him to think I was weak or emotional. He was strong, and self-reliant, and did what had to be done without complaint. I tried to be that for him. Whining about something out of his control wouldn’t help anything.

  He sighed again. “I know you don’t believe me, but I do love you.”

  “I believe you,” I said, and I meant it.

  I pressed the red button on the screen and let my phone fall to the bed.

  Raegan was already in damage control mode. “He was called into work?”

  I nodded.

  “Okay, well, maybe you guys will just have to be more spontaneous. Maybe you can just show up, and if he’s called out while you’re there, you wait on him. When he gets back, you pick up where you left off.”

  “Maybe.”

  She squeezed my hand. “Or maybe he’s a tool who should stop choosing his job over you?”

  I shook my head. “He’s worked really hard for this position.”

  “You don’t even know what position it is.”

  “I told you. He’s utilizing his degree. He specializes in statistical analysis and data reconfiguration, whatever that means.”

  She shot me a dubious look. “Yeah, you also told me to keep it all a secret. Which makes me think he’s not being completely honest with you.”

  I stood up and dumped out my suitcas
e, letting all the contents spill onto my comforter. Usually I only made my bed when I was packing, so I could now see the comforter’s light-blue fabric with a few navy-blue octopus tentacles reaching across it. T.J. hated it, but it made me feel like I was being hugged while I slept. My room was made up of strange, random things, but then, so was I.

  Raegan rummaged through the pile of clothes, and held up a black top with the shoulders and front strategically ripped. “We both have the night off. We should go out. Get drinks served to us for once.”

  I grabbed the shirt from her hands and inspected it while I mulled over Raegan’s suggestion. “You’re right. We should. Are we taking your car, or the Smurf?”

  Raegan shrugged. “I’m almost on empty and we don’t get paid until tomorrow.”

  “Looks like it’s the Smurf, then.”

  After a crash session in the bathroom, Raegan and I jumped up into my light-blue, modified CJ Jeep. It wasn’t in the best of shape, but at one time someone had had enough vision and love to mold it into a Jeep/truck hybrid. The spoiled college dropout who owned the Smurf between that owner and me didn’t love it as much. The seat cushions were exposed in some places where the black leather seats were torn, the carpet had cigarette holes and stains, and the hard top needed to be replaced, but that neglect meant that I could pay for it in full, and a payment-free vehicle was the best kind to own.

  I buckled my seat belt, and stabbed the key into the ignition.

  “Should I pray?” Raegan asked.

  I turned the key, and the Smurf made a sickly whirring noise. The engine sputtered, and then purred, and we both clapped. My parents raised four children on a factory worker’s salary. I never asked them to help me buy a car, instead I got a job at the local ice cream shop when I was fifteen, and saved $557.11. The Smurf wasn’t the vehicle I dreamed about when I was little, but 550 bucks bought me an independence, and that was priceless.

  Twenty minutes later, Raegan and I were on the opposite side of town, strutting across the gravel lot of the Red Door, slowly and in unison, as if we were being filmed while walking to a badass soundtrack.

  Kody was standing at the entrance, his huge arms probably the same size as my head. He eyed us as we approached. “IDs.”

  “Fuck off!” Raegan snarled. “We work here. You know how old we are.”

  He shrugged. “Still have to see IDs.”

  I frowned at Raegan, and she rolled her eyes, digging into her back pocket. “If you don’t know how old I am at this point, we have issues.”

  “C’mon, Raegan. Quit busting my balls and let me see the damn thing.”

  “The last time I let you see something you didn’t call me for three days.”

  He cringed. “You’re never going to get over that, are you?”

  She tossed her ID at Kody and he slapped it against his chest. He glanced at it, and then handed it back, looking at me expectantly. I handed him my driver’s license.

  “Thought you were leaving town?” he asked, glancing down before returning the thin plastic card to me.

  “Long story,” I said, stuffing my license into my back pocket. My jeans were so tight I was amazed I could fit anything besides my ass back there.

  Kody opened the oversize red door, and Raegan smiled sweetly. “Thanks, baby.”

  “Love you. Be good.”

  “I’m always good,” she said, winking.

  “See you when I get off work?”

  “Yep.” She pulled me through the door.

  “You are the weirdest couple,” I said over the bass. It was buzzing in my chest, and I was fairly certain every beat made my bones shake.

  “Yep,” Raegan said again.

  The dance floor was already packed with sweaty, drunk college kids. The fall semester was in full swing. Raegan walked over to the bar and stood at the end. Jorie winked at her.

  “Want me to clear you out some seats?” she asked.

  Raegan shook her head. “You’re just offering because you want my tips from last night!”

  Jorie laughed. Her long, platinum blond hair fell in loose waves past her shoulders, with a few black peekaboo strands. She wore a black minidress and combat boots, and was pushing buttons on the cash register to ring someone up while she talked to us. We had all learned to multitask and move like every tip was a hundred-dollar bill. If you could bartend fast enough, you stood a chance of working the east bar, and the tips made there could pay a month’s worth of bills in a weekend.

  That was where I’d been tending bar for a year, placed just three months after I was hired at the Red Door. Raegan worked right beside me, and together we kept that machine greased like a stripper in a plastic pool full of baby oil. Jorie and the other bartender, Blia, worked the south bar at the entrance. It was basically a kiosk, and they loved it when Raegan or I were out of town.

  “So? What are you drinking?” Jorie asked.

  Raegan looked at me, and then back at Jorie. “Whiskey sours.”

  I made a face. “Minus the sour, please.”

  Once Jorie passed us our drinks, Raegan and I found an empty table and sat, shocked at our luck. Weekends were always packed, and an open table at ten thirty wasn’t common.

  I held a brand-new pack of cigarettes in my hand and hit the end of it against my palm to pack them, then tore off the plastic, flipping the top. Even though the Red was so smoky that just sitting there made me feel like I was smoking an entire pack of cigarettes, it was nice to sit at a table and relax. When I was working, I usually had time for one drag and the rest burned away, unsmoked.

  Raegan watched me light it. “I want one.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do!”

  “You haven’t smoked in two months, Raegan. You’ll blame me tomorrow for ruining your streak.”

  She gestured at the room. “I’m smoking! Right now!”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. Raegan was exotically beautiful, with long, chestnut-brown hair, bronze skin, and honey-brown eyes. Her nose was perfectly small, not too round or too pointy, and her skin made her look like she came fresh off of a Neutrogena commercial. We met in elementary school, and I was instantly drawn to her brutal honesty. Raegan could be incredibly intimidating, even for Kody, who, at six foot four, was over a foot taller than she was. Her personality was charming to those she loved, and repellent to those she didn’t.

  I was the opposite of exotic. My tousled brown bob and heavy bangs were easy to maintain, but not a lot of men found it sexy. Not a lot of men found me sexy in general. I was the girl next door, your brother’s best friend. Growing up with three brothers and our cousin Colin, I could have been a tomboy if my subtle but still present curves hadn’t ousted me from the boys-only clubhouse at fourteen.

  “Don’t be that girl,” I said. “If you want one, go buy your own.”

  She crossed her arms, pouting. “That’s why I quit. They’re fucking expensive.”

  I stared at the burning paper and tobacco nestled between my fingers. “That is a fact my broke ass continues to make note of.”

  The song switched from something everyone wanted to dance to, to a song no one wanted to dance to, and dozens of people began making their way off the dance floor. Two girls walked up to our table and traded glances.

  “That’s our table,” the blonde said.

  Raegan barely acknowledged them.

  “Excuse me, bitch, she’s talking to you,” the brunette said, setting her beer on the table.

  “Raegan,” I warned.

  Raegan looked at me with a blank face, and then up at the girl with the same expression. “It was your table. Now it’s ours.”

  “We were here first,” the blonde hissed.

  “And now you’re not,” Raegan said. She picked up the unwelcome beer bottle and tossed it across the floor. It spilled out onto the dark, tightly stitched carpet. “Fetch.”

  The brunette watched her beer slide across the floor, and then took a step toward Raegan, but her friend grabbed both
of her arms. Raegan offered an unimpressed laugh, and then turned her gaze toward the dance floor. The brunette finally followed her friend to the bar.

  I took a drag from my cigarette. “I thought we were going to have a good time tonight.”

  “That was fun, right?”

  I shook my head, stifling a smile. Raegan was a great friend, but I wouldn’t cross her. Growing up with so many boys in the house, I’d had enough fighting to last a lifetime. They didn’t baby me. If I didn’t fight back, they’d just fight dirtier until I did. And I always did.

  Raegan didn’t have an excuse. She was just a scrappy bitch. “Oh, look. Megan’s here,” she said, pointing to the blue-eyed, crow-headed beauty on the dance floor. I shook my head. She was out there with Travis Maddox, basically getting screwed in front of everyone on the dance floor.

  “Oh, those Maddox boys,” Raegan said.

  “Yeah,” I said, downing my whiskey. “This was a bad idea. I’m not feeling clubby tonight.”

  “Oh, stop.” Raegan gulped her whiskey sour and then stood. “The whine bags are still eyeing this table. I’m going to get us another round. You know the beginning of the night starts off slow.”

  She took my glass and hers and left me for the bar.

  I turned, seeing the girls staring at me, clearly hoping I would step away from the table. I wasn’t about to stand up. Raegan would get the table back if they tried to take it, and that would only cause trouble.

  When I turned around, a boy was sitting in Raegan’s chair. At first I thought Travis had somehow made his way over, but when I realized my mistake, I smiled. Trenton Maddox was leaning toward me, his tattooed arms crossed, his elbows resting on the table across from me. He rubbed the five o’clock shadow that peppered his square jaw with his fingers, his shoulder muscles bulging through his T-shirt. He had as much stubble on his face as he did on the top of his head, except for the absence of hair from one small scar near his left temple.

  “You look familiar.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Really? You walk all the way over here and sit down, and that’s the best you’ve got?”

  He made a show of running his eyes over every part of me. “You don’t have any tattoos, that I can see. I’m guessing we haven’t met at the shop.”