Beautiful Oblivion (The Maddox Brothers, #1)(26)

“Chamomile!” he said. He was holding a bowl full of plastic fruit.

“Oh, please don’t. It wasn’t funny in middle school, and it’s definitely not funny now.”

Trenton shrugged. “I liked it.”

“You didn’t even know who I was in middle school.”

He frowned. “Says who?”

I made a show of looking around. “You didn’t speak to me until I grew tits.”

Hazel cackled. “Work has been so much more entertaining since she was hired!”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t know who you were,” Trenton said, unamused.

Hazel pointed to the bowl in Trenton’s arms. “What’s with the fruit?”

“For my room. It’s decoration.”

“It’s hideous,” she said.

“It was my mom’s,” he said, unfazed. “I decided I needed something of hers at work. Puts me in a good mood.” He walked down the hall and disappeared into his room.

“So,” Hazel said, leaning her elbows on the counter. Her thin, penciled eyebrow shot up. “The sexual tension around here is getting ridiculous.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you liked Calvin.”

Hazel wrinkled her nose. “No one likes Calvin.”

“I heard that!” Calvin called from down the hall.

“Good!” Hazel yelled back. “So, you’re really not interested in Trent?”

“Nope,” I said.

“Not even a little bit.”

“I have a boyfriend, and he makes me very happy,” I said, licking my thumb and counting forms.

“Damn,” Hazel said. “I kinda liked you two together.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” I said, straightening the stack in my hands before returning them to their bin.

The door chimed, and a group of four girls walked in: all blond, all tan, and all showcasing their doubleD-cup breasts in tight shirts that were in various shades of pink.

I began to welcome them, but Hazel pointed to the door. The girls stopped in their tracks.

“C’mon, Hazel. We told him we’d stop by,” one of them whined.

“Out,” she said, still pointing with one finger, then looking down to turn a page of Cosmopolitan magazine with the other. When she didn’t hear the chime again, she looked up. “Are you f*cking deaf? I said out!”

The girls frowned, and pouted for a few seconds before filing out the way they came in.

“What was that about?” I asked.

She shook her head and sighed. “Trent groupies. Bishop has them, too. Women who hang out at the shop, hoping to score free tattoos, or . . . I don’t know . . . that the guys score.” She rolled her eyes. “Quite frankly they annoy me, but up until recently they were allowed in.”

“What changed?”

Hazel shrugged. “Bishop stopped coming in as much, and Trenton told me to send them away not long after you started here. See? You’re not a total disappointment.” She elbowed me.

“I suppose I haven’t really been worth the paycheck. I can’t even mix the MadaCide right. Disinfectant is kind of important around here.”

“Shut the f*ck up!” she said with a wry smile. “No one else could have talked Calvin into getting rid of the cheap Asian décor and restructuring the files. You’ve been here less than a month and we’re already more organized, and customers don’t wonder if they’ll get a free fortune cookie with their tattoo.”

“Thanks. It’s nice to feel appreciated.”

“I appreciate you,” Trenton said, walking into the lobby. “I appreciate that you’re finally going to watch Spaceballs with me tonight. I’m bringing it over.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head.

“Why not?”

“I’m working.”

“And then what?”

“Going to bed.”

“Bullshit.”

“You’re right. I have plans.”

He sneered. “With who?”

“I don’t know yet, but definitely not you.”

Hazel giggled. “Ouch.”

Trenton put his entire palm on Hazel’s tiny face and playfully pushed her away, keeping his hand on her as he spoke. “That’s not nice. I thought you said we’re friends.”

“We are,” I said.

Hazel finally struggled away from Trenton, and began slapping the shit out of his arm. Barely noticing, and only holding up one hand to fend her off, he continued, “Friends watch Spaceballs together.”

“We’re not that good of friends,” I said, concentrating on lining up the paper clips just right in their new organizer.

The door chimed, and two customers walked in: a couple. They were neck-deep in tattoos already.

“Hi,” I said with a smile. “How can I help you?”

“Rachel!” Hazel said, tackle-hugging the girl. She had an eyebrow piercing, a diamond for a beauty mark, and nose and lip rings. Her rocket-fire-red pixie cut almost glowed, it was so intense. Even with a head full of holes and arms covered in skulls and fairies, she was breathtaking. I sat back and watched them chat. Her boyfriend was tall and skinny, and just as glad to see Hazel. I couldn’t imagine either of them wanted more piercings or tattoos. Unless they wanted face tattoos, they had run out of blank skin to ink.