26. Cunt

twenty-six

Violet

It's funny how, when you spend enough time with someone, little things start to remind you of them. Like how, every time I see a service dog, I think of Hayden. Little shiny tubes of lip gloss make me think of Mallory, no matter how hard I try to fight it. But it seems, after that night I showed up on her doorstep, everything reminds me of Cam.

The little shark-shaped gummies at the gas station when I go inside to pay. Anything brown: the mountains, bare branches, my morning cup of coffee. I see people walking their dogs through my neighborhood, and I wonder if she is the one who cut their hair.

I even find Cam in things that have nothing to do with her at all. Veering through the winding, snow-clad city streets, I'm reminded of her bright, dimpled smile. It's breathtaking and rare, and even though it's something you have to earn, I never feel like I deserve it. Everything in pairs reminds me that she's a Gemini, which is funny because it makes so much sense yet none at all. Every time I watch a movie, I wonder if she's read the book. I think about what differences there might be, and if maybe I should read them too, so I can experience the story the same way she does.

I've never really been a reader. It's hard to focus when it's quiet, but it's difficult to comprehend the words in front of me when I'm surrounded by noise. Cam loves reading though, and she makes me want to love it too.

Even now, standing here next to a bright yellow mop bucket, I'm reminded of her. Of the day after we met, that wide-eyed look of panic on her face. The silent nervous nods, and her refusal to meet my eye. I think about how we ended up in that shower two weeks ago, and how the two days almost seem like different worlds entirely, different dimensions merged into one.

I guess that's what life is like with her around. Multidimensional.

Water trickles down the wringer into the murky mop bucket. Sounds of movement permeate the air around me, dogs barking and tussling, imperceptible staff conversations. It's nice not to have to create my own noise like I do at home, blasting music or turning on the television. It's one of the few things I do like about this job. The dogs, of course. And my coworkers, they're amazing. But what I'm most grateful for is the lack of silence.

That's why I'm still here, thirty minutes after my shift ended. I can't afford silence right now.

"Still here?" Cam's head turns, her eyes traveling to meet me. I pull the salon door shut behind me, the splintering wooden mop handle gripped in my calloused hands.

"Figured I could do a little cleaning up," I shrug, then flash her a teasing grin. "Kinda grimy in here, don't you think?"

Cam cocks a brow, then readjusts her gaze onto the dog in the tub.

"It wouldn't be so grimy if you installed those vents I've been talking about for the last two months."

A coy smirk plays on her lips, knowing that she's won. It's a win-lose scenario when Cam wins. She starts to act invincible, like she can get me to do anything. Whether or not she's correct isn't the point. But she also gets this glow about her, a confidence she doesn't typically own. Her lips tug up, her eyebrow quirks, and the slight tilt of her head makes me want to lose just so that I can see it.

"The electrician never called me back," I say as an excuse, my cheeks flushing. "But, touché."

Cam's hands glide through the thick white suds soaked into the dog's coat. It's comical to be jealous, but if you knew the way Cam's hands feel in your hair, you'd understand. Nothing compares to the soft tug, the gentle massage of those smooth fingertips against your scalp. It's cosmic, the way all the hair on your body stands as you melt into her touch. Cam is stubborn and morose, but the worst crime she could commit would be to never let me feel those hands again.

I don't have a good reason to still be here, I know that. But if I could, I would spend every free second of my life here anyway, watching her. My eyes drop to the floor as the mop glides across a spot of dried soap.

"So did Anassia ever call Adrian?" I ask. I don't bring up Anassia's name to watch Cam's eye twitch, but it's a perk I can't say that I loathe. Just like I hadn't accepted the drink Anassia bought just to make Cam jealous, but I hadn't hated her reaction then either.

Truthfully, I had accepted it for the opposite reason. I thought Cam would feel relieved, knowing the staff would see me publicly flirt with the person that was intended to be the main attraction of the event. After that, nobody would think twice about seeing us next to one another at the exhibits.

But after she power-walked over, her brows pressed together, that angry glare in her eye, I realized it had the opposite effect. At least it would have if mostly everyone hadn't already left. I knew then, watching her stand between us, that Cameron Miller was jealous.

I haven't had anyone act jealous over me before. Mallory was the showpiece, the person everyone's eyes locked onto when she entered the room. She never had a reason to be jealous. Nobody ever felt like a threat.

I'm ashamed to say it, embarrassed really, but it's a gratifying feeling to have someone fight to keep you to themselves. I know it means nothing; maybe just like me, Cam doesn't like to share. But something still flutters in my chest when I think about it.

"She said it didn't click with her studio," Cam answers grimly. "But the Greenrock Gallery actually asked to display it, so it was a bittersweet outcome for them."

Cam's voice is like a saccharine symphony playing in my ear. It's feathery, even when harsh words are slipping out, and the slightest lisp makes me never want to hear another song again. I don't want her to stop talking, so I scour my brain for anything Cam might find worth her time.

"So, what's with the, uh, word carved into your car door?"

It's been a question on my mind since I saw it that night her car broke down. At the time, it hadn't seemed like a good idea to ask. It's a particular word, one even most sailors won't use. And with the depth of the carving, there was definitely intent behind it.

A choked laugh slips through Cam's lips, but she doesn't look at me. "You noticed that?"

I nod, even though her eyes are fixated on the dog in the tub.

"So." She chuckles again, shaking her head. "Cody, you know, my ex—"

I do, because I have never wanted to hit someone so hard in my entire life. Something about him is so unsettling, so unnerving. I force my disgusted expression to go blank and continue listening.

"We broke up because I walked in on him with another woman. Obviously, I freaked out and told him to leave because it was my bed—"

I don't even mean to gasp, it just forces its way out of me. I swear, when men were created, the universe replaced their brain cells with audacity. Sure, Mallory cheated on me. But at least she had the decency to do it somewhere else. "He didn't!"

"Oh, but he did."

Cam's smiling, but I know how painful it is to go through that. I couldn't imagine having to actually witness it.

"Anyway, he flips it over on me and says I made him cheat, that he didn't have a choice because I had just started a new medication and, well, those things can affect that, y'know?"

The story's coming off like some big comedy skit. Like Cam isn't talking about the tragic end of a long-term relationship through backstabbing betrayal. Like the sight of him a few weeks ago didn't send her into a spiral. I'm the queen of pretending everything is fine, but when Mallory slept with someone else, it took me weeks to even tell Ruthie because every time I thought about it, I felt like I was going to throw up.

"So he carved ‘cunt' into your car?"

"No." Cam turns on the hose, wriggling the nozzle, and the suds begin to wash down the dog's body. "The woman leaves, but Cody refuses, so I call Adrian."

Cam's eyes dart to me, and I look back down at the floor, reminding myself to stay busy.

"Adrian calls Cody's mom and tells her what happened. He's always been a huge momma's boy. His mom calls him while he's still lying naked in the bed, and she screams at him over the phone. I couldn't make out everything, but the word ‘castrate' was definitely in there."

Nothing in the story is funny to me, but I force a laugh for Cam's sake.

"The next day, that etching showed up on Luigi."

My throat tightens as my own saliva gets caught in my airway. "Luigi?"

"My car."

"Right." I swallow, uncertainty filling my mind. Part of me wants to change the topic completely, but the other part wants to tell Cam that I know exactly how it feels, that kind of disloyalty.

"Mallory cheated on me." The words come out hesitantly, almost like I don't know it for a fact. Really, I just don't know why I'm telling her. Maybe it's an attempt to make her feel better, or maybe, it's just because Cam has a way of understanding. "That's why we got a divorce. Well, that was the nail in the coffin, I guess."

I try to swallow down the dry lump forming in the base of my throat.

Where was I going with this?

Cam's gaze flicks up to me, that similar, pitying look she had given me the night I showed up on her doorstep.

"I'm sorry," she says quietly.

18I shake my head. "No, I'm sorry. Cody is a dick. Cam, you deserve someone who sees how amazing you are. You're a fucking terror sometimes, I'll give you that. But you're a privilege to be around, and anyone who knows you can see that. So don't forget it. When you—" The words get stuck at the bottom of my throat, as if I'm holding onto them. A sigh slips through my lips, and my eyes lock onto hers. "When you're ready for something more than—"

The salon door flings open. My heart sinks in my chest as I spin around.

"Hey Vi, is it cool if I dip?" Malcolm stands in the doorway, his body slumped against the wooden frame. My eyes flick to Cam, just for a brief second, her eyes wide and her cheeks pale. "Everything is done, and honestly, I want to go home."

I let out a small laugh at Malcolm's candidness. I never really wanted to be the manager of Furry Friends. I didn't like the idea of being on my coworker's asses all the time. I didn't want to become the reason they dreaded coming in. But at the time it was offered to me, I couldn't afford to pass it up. Mallory had just quit her accounting job to open the dance studio, and I wanted to do whatever I could to support her. It took some adjusting, a learning curve to balance productivity and humanity, but I think I've done a decent job at making sure the staff thinks of me as their coworker, not their boss.

"Sure. Just make sure to double check meds, okay?"

He flashes me a weak smile, and a satirical salute.

"Aye aye, captain," he says, before twirling around and closing the door behind him. I turn to Cam quickly, my chest twisting into a tight mass.

"Fuck, Cam, I'm sorry."

"It's fine," she cuts in, short but not flat. Her eyes flick up to meet mine, and that divine dimple dips into her cheek as she smiles. My teeth sink into the inside of my cheek, and my eyes lower.

"I should go," I say, my grip tightening around the mop handle in my hand. "Reese is probably tired of being stuck in a suite all day, and if I leave the cone of shame on him any longer, he might take a revenge piss on my bed."

Cam chuckles, the corner of her mouth curling inward as she nods.

"Okay," she says softly. "Drive safe."*