Almost Beautiful, page 7
“I want to feel giddy to be with you at the movie theater once every two months because it’s something special instead of expected. I want to build our castle one block at a time ... just you and me. No easy outs.”
His half smile reappeared, and he held my hand against his cheek. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely.”
He took in my words and then nodded, already feeling better. “Speaking of being broke ... it’s coin beer night at The Red. If we’re both going to start working every night, let’s get it out of our system.”
I grinned. “I’m in.” I tapped out a group text to Shepley and America, and immediately got a response. Excited, I shrugged my shoulders. “Shep and Mare will meet us there at eight-thirty.”
Travis backed out of the parking spot and navigated his way to the street, turning up the radio and serenading me all the way home.
I looked out the window and sighed. We were going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay. I could feel it.
Chapter Eight
The New Normal
Abby
STEPPING THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR of our favorite bar felt like a trip in a time machine.
My heels clicking against the sticky floor and holding tight onto Travis’s hand as he weaved through the crowded club made me feel like we’d gone back in time, before the investigation, before the wedding, before the fire.
Coeds were barely covered in their metallic rompers and micro minis, twirling their hair as they talked to whatever silly boy was going to buy them a drink.
Sure, The Red was a meat market. Everyone was voluntarily on display to catch the eye of someone—anyone—or for couples to announce or reestablish their claim to one another.
The occasional patron was present who just loved to dance, or drink, or play pool, but humans needed other humans, and The Red was just crowded and dark and loud enough to see and be seen without judgment.
The speakers vibrated with music, beating like blood through a heart. With my free hand, I pressed my fingertips against my chest to try to lessen the pounding through my ribcage.
Mouths were moving, but the only sound was the music, everyone speaking the same language, singing the same song. Connection. Acceptance. A way to leave the stresses of college behind.
As we approached the bar, Travis waved to Raegan, and she shooed a couple of guys from the stools directly in front of her. She grinned as we sat down, wiping down the wooden bar in front of us. “I was wondering if you two would be back here.”
“Why wouldn’t we be?” I asked, watching her pop the top off two domestic beers and then place them in front of Travis and me.
Raegan crossed her arms. “I dunno. You’re married now. I figured that would magically change you somehow, I guess.”
“We still like to drink and see our friends,” Travis said, clicking the neck of his beer bottle to mine. He kissed the corner of my mouth before taking a quick swig and surveying the room. “Where’s Trent and Cami?”
Raegan answered as she walked away to tend to other customers. “She’s pretty much working full-time at Skin Deep now.”
“With Trent? That should be interesting,” I said with a smirk.
“Oh, it’s always interesting with those two.”
“That’s no shit,” Travis said, amused.
I watched Raegan and Jorie work the line, taking two or three orders at a time. Making the drinks with precision and speed, taking payment, tapping furiously on the cash register, and then starting over.
Raegan’s side was crowded—three rows deep. If we didn’t know the bartenders through Camille, and Travis wasn’t—well, Travis—we would have waited for a seat all night. The tables were full, too, just like the pool tables and the dance floor.
I hadn’t seen it that busy in a while, and I wondered if it was because the fire made everyone want even more to be around friends and experience life and laughter.
Two cold hands cupped my shoulders, and I turned into a hug from America. Gigantic earrings dangled from her ears, her hair up in a messy bun. Her top exposed one shoulder. She had the effortlessly glamorous look down pat.
“Hey, betch,” a voice said from behind me.
I flipped around. “Finch! You made it!”
He shrugged, the collar of his white button down grazing his ears as he did so. “I almost didn’t come, but I refuse to sit around and wait for you to text me from Married-land. It apparently doesn’t have great service.”
I covered my eyes. “I meant to, I just … Okay, I’m a terrible friend.” I grabbed him by the upper arms. “Let’s grab lunch this week and I’ll catch you up on everything.”
“No need, America already did.”
America grinned.
I wrinkled my nose. “Lunch, anyway?”
“Hell, yes. And you’re paying.” He looked behind him, scanning the crowd.
Jorie appeared with a smile. “You guys want a table? I can have Raegan clear one for you.” She winked. “She loves being a bitch.”
“Nah, we’re good,” Shepley said, sharing a single handshake and side hug with his cousin. He kissed my temple. “You doing okay?”
I nodded.
America and Finch wasted no time dragging me onto the dance floor.
I locked eyes with my husband a few times, watching him watching me, noticing the four women purposefully ignoring his wedding ring as they shamelessly flirted with him.
Unfortunately, that was something that hadn’t changed.
Travis, though, wasn’t as patient as usual, and dismissed them with a few effective words I wished I could’ve heard.
The sorority sisters left in a huff.
When I returned to my stool, Travis ran his finger down my arm, enjoying the slickness of the sweat on my skin. He leaned over to kiss my shoulder, flicking his tongue with each peck.
I stood up and leaned into him. “We’re not going to stay long if you keep that up.”
Travis looked up at me with a wry smile. “Promise?”
I kissed the top of his cheek, and he slid his hand around me, cupping my ass.
“You’re people watching again,” I said.
“It’s just funny to me, the games people are playing, the assessment, the flirting, the push and pull and harmless manipulation ... Everything we’ve been doing all year right up until our wedding.”
I smiled, and then kissed him again.
“For fuck’s sake, you two, get a room,” Finch teased.
Travis patted my backside and stood. “Heading to the john. Need anything?”
I arched an eyebrow. “From the men’s room? No.”
Travis chuckled and set his empty beer bottle on the bar. “Would you mind ordering me another one?”
“Not at all,” I said, pressing my lips against his when he leaned down for a quick peck.
Shepley handed America his beer.
She shook her head. “I don’t know why everyone makes a big deal that girls go to the bathroom in groups. Guys are just as guilty.”
Shepley shrugged. “I’m just making sure he doesn’t get into a fight while he’s in there.”
“He doesn’t need babysat,” America said.
Shepley made a face, as if America should know better. “He kinda does. The guy he just followed in there acted like he was going to slap Abby’s ass on the dance floor. Y’all didn’t see it but, unfortunately, Travis did.”
“What are you waiting for, Shep? Go!” I said, playfully pushing him toward the men’s room.
Shepley followed Travis, disappearing behind the crowd.
Finch crossed his arms, watching the spot where Shepley had squeezed through. “Whoever Travis was following can’t be from Eastern State. Few men had enough courage to flirt with you when it was just common knowledge Travis Maddox was in love with you. No one would be stupid enough to do that now that you’re his wife.”
“He won’t do anything. He said he was done with all that.”
Finch squinted his eyes. “Oh, sweetheart. He will try like hell to keep his word, too. I have no doubt. Just remember he’s human when he fucks up, okay?”
I nodded, looking in the direction of the bathroom.
America turned to me. “When he said he was done fighting, he meant The Circle, Abby. And they’ll be fine! So,” she said, fussing with her bun. “Does this place feel different now?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that? I got married, not a lobotomy.”
America laughed out loud and then took a sip of her cocktail, blinking when she noticed two college kids approaching. “Oh, shit.”
“What?” I asked.
“They’re not gone five fucking seconds and we already have to fend someone off,” she complained.
“They’re not coming over here.”
America stared at me, unimpressed and unconvinced, then turned to watch the men approach with the same expression on her face.
“You’re both stupid. They want me. Hi, boys,” Finch said to the first one to reach us.
“Hey,” he said. His hair was thick and brushed over, similar to Parker’s. He was taller than me and lanky, but still fit, like the physique of a golfer.
If he’d seen me with Travis, I couldn’t imagine why he’d think he was my type.
The shorter one opened his mouth to speak. “You look—”
“We don’t, actually. We’re not thirsty, don’t want to dance, and definitely not lonely,” America said, interrupting. “I have a boyfriend and she’s married.” She pointed to me.
The maybe-golfer smirked, looking up at his much taller friend and then back at us. Great. He was one of those guys who thought taken women were a challenge.
“Hi married, I’m Ricky.”
Finch snarled at him. “Hilarious. Are you also from nineteen eighty-four? Who names their kid Ricky anymore?”
“Finch!” I hissed.
Ricky wasn’t fazed. “This is Justin. Nice to meet you.”
Justin was taller, his hair a lighter shade of brown, but he didn’t look much different than Ricky. He was trying not to fidget. Something about both of them was … off.
“We haven’t given you our names, so technically we haven’t met,” I said.
“I’m sorry,” Justin said. “Have we offended you somehow?”
I looked down, ashamed. “Sorry. No, you haven’t. We’re just trying to help you out. Our boyfrien—my husband and her boyfriend are here, and they’ll be back in a minute.”
“So?” Ricky said. His cockiness was manufactured, forced. Red flags were shooting up all over the place, and not the Travis kind.
I sighed. “My husband doesn’t appreciate strange men talking to me.”
“Oh, he’s jealous?” Justin said. “That must get old.”
“Not really,” I said. “Thanks for saying hi, but you should get going.”
“I’m good,” Ricky said with a smirk.
I rolled my eyes. America was right. The moment Travis got back, there would be a confrontation and our fun night out would be over. Neither of these guys seemed like they’d be smart enough to walk away if Travis warned them to move along.
Ricky put one hand in his pocket, glancing around while he sipped his seltzer.
I quickly recognized that he wasn’t really trying to flirt with us, or even trying to talk to us.
He seemed to be waiting for Travis and Shepley to return.
I watched him intently, growing more suspicious with every passing second.
“Are you a cop?” I asked.
Both men turned to face me, surprised.
“What?” Ricky asked.
“Are you a cop? Because if you are, by law you have to tell me,” I said.
America craned her neck at me, confusion on her face.
Justin chuckled. “No. Not a cop."”
“What about you?” I asked, lowering my chin and glaring at Ricky.
Ricky gave me a once over, from my eyes to my knees, and then back up. He wasn’t interested in me at all. He was assessing me, trying to decide out how a nineteen-year-old girl could figure him out. He was there for Travis.
He didn’t answer, so I took a step toward him. “Get the fuck outta here. If you want to talk to him, you’re going to have to arrest him.”
Ricky stood taller, but he took a step back. “Which could be arranged. He’s not even twenty yet, drinking in a bar. I bet you all have fake IDs.”
I narrowed my eyes and leaned closer. “Then what are you waiting for?”
“What’s going on?” America asked, alarmed.
Justin looked around, a bit nervous. He wasn’t a cop, and if he was, he was likely a rookie, maybe even an informant, young-looking enough to be assigned to try to fool us.
A strong arm hooked around my neck, and Travis kissed my temple. “Hey, baby.” As predicted, he glared at the two men standing in front of us. “Who’s this?”
“Who?” America asked, playing dumb.
Travis wasn’t amused. He pointed to Justin and Ricky—if those were even their names. “These clowns.”
Ricky laughed once, getting back into character but clearly over doing it. “Clowns? We’re not after your bitches. Calm down.”
“Oh, you’re fucking brilliant,” Shepley said, already pulling off his jacket.
Before I could yell stop, Travis had already let me go and lunged for Ricky, taking him to the ground.
As usual, the rest of the bar joined in. Any drunken idiots who were walking around looking for a fight had just found one.
Finch held me back from the growing mountain of swinging fists, a wide grin on his face.
As I tried to find my husband, I couldn’t help but wonder what the purpose would be for goading him into a fight. Ricky had already admitted that they could have arrested him for being underage.
As the brawl spread, America and I were pinned against the bar. Raegan reached for us, trying to help us over before we were crushed.
“Shep!” America yelled as I pushed her over the barrier while Raegan pulled. “Shepley!”
Once America was over and standing safely next to Raegan, I hopped over, too.
Travis was nowhere, and the longer he was out of my line of sight, the more I worried. I wasn’t sure what the men wanted. They could be cops, or FBI, or worse, sent from Vegas. Benny was still unhappy about Travis turning him down, and no one ever really got away with turning down a mob boss.
I yelled for my husband again.
The bouncers pushed through the crowd, pulling apart the numerous humans who were acting like animals—Travis included.
“Travis Maddox!” I yelled.
Travis stood up, wiping blood from his lip with the back of his hand, smiling down at the men still on the floor. His face was smug, his eyes bright. He’d missed fighting.
Shepley tugged on his shirt and Travis walked backward, and then turned at the bar, reaching for me. He helped me over, and then set me down on my feet.
“You okay?” Travis asked.
I frowned at him, but he wasn’t sorry.
Travis’s love for throwing punches would always simmer just beneath the surface, hoping and waiting to be unleashed on someone. People kept asking me if I felt different, and it was then that I realized that was the one thing that I’d hoped would change.
The crowd jostled and Travis turned away from me, holding a protective stance as if the men writhing in pain on the floor were still a threat. The bouncers led them out, signaling to Travis and Shepley that they had to leave, too.
Raegan came over, leaning in to speak to Travis. “You keep this shit up, Trav, and Jorie will ban you from this place for good.”
“She says that every time,” Travis said with a grin, wiping his mouth again.
“Are you ... Are you bleeding?” I said, turning him to face me.
Travis didn’t get hit unless he allowed it. That was sort of his thing.
I wasn’t used to seeing him bloody, and that made my paranoia even worse.
“Yeah,” Shepley said. “I might have elbowed him on accident.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t see that coming, huh?”
Travis made a face. “I did, but I was in a great position and mid-punch at that little maggot who called you and Mare bitches ... so I didn’t bother to dodge.”
“Come on, guys. Don’t make the bouncers escort you out,” Raegan said, patting Travis on the shoulder.
“I’m staying,” Finch said, pretending to tuck hair behind his ear. “I didn’t do shit and I just got my night started.”
“You sure?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
Finch kissed my cheek and waved, leaving us for the dance floor.
I sighed as we began walking toward the exit. I couldn’t blame Travis, but I was also disappointed. It was our last hoorah, and we’d barely been out for an hour.
We walked out with Shepley and America, our vehicles parked side-by-side in the parking lot.
“Did you figure it out?” America asked.
I shook my head. “No, but I will.”
“What are you talking about?” Shepley asked, straightening his shirt.
“Those guys were weird,” America said.
“They came over to talk to us,” I said. “But after we told them you were coming back, they hung around. They didn’t talk to us, try to buy us drinks, anything. Almost like they were waiting for you.”
Travis and Shepley traded glances.
“Have you seen them before?” I asked.
Travis made a face. “No. And I better not see them again.”
“What he said about us being bitches,” America said. “He knew it would set Travis off. The whole thing is just sketch. Something is up.”
“You two need to stop watching those crime shows on Netflix. You’re getting paranoid as fuck,” Travis said, looking at me.
I frowned. “Those guys were half your size. You didn’t need to swing on them.”
Shepley shrugged. “I just roughed him up. If I’d thrown a real punch, I might’ve killed him.”
“Same,” Travis said, monotone.
