Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
CAMERON
“ H ey, Mom, you home?”
“In the kitchen!”
Milo comes down the staircase to the small foyer, his black and white paws hopping down the steps to greet me. Setting my duffle bag on the ground, I squat and pet him while he purrs. I missed the little demon. He’s an asshole to everyone except my parents, Ethan and me. After a couple of minutes, I stand. Milo, however, isn’t done with wanting attention and rubs himself against my leg. When he nips at my ankle, a crashing sound comes from the kitchen.
“God damn slippery handles. Can’t even make fucking pasta without something falling,” my mom says to herself as I stalk to the kitchen door. Poor mom insisted on making me a home-cooked meal, and now the kitchen is a mess with sauce splattered all over the stove. She’s never been the best cook and constantly bumps into things, but she makes a mean spaghetti bolognese. She also swears like a sailor.
“Hey, Mom.”
She turns, looking at me with her big brown eyes, shoulder-length brown hair, and wide smile .
“Hey there, kiddo. Come give your mother a hug so she can keep stirring the sauce before it burns.”
I chuckle and make my way over to my five-foot-two mother. Her face presses against my chest as I pull Elizabeth Kahlo tight to me.
“Missed you too, Mom.”
She wipes her eyes and swats my arm.
“Don’t be a smart ass. I miss you all the time. At least I have Milo to keep me company.”
“And Dad?”
“Oh yeah, him too.”
“I meant, where is Dad?”
“He was at the office and should be home any minute now. How was your drive here?” She adds wine to the pan, then takes a swig of some before passing it to me.
Not knowing why she’s handing me the bottle, I hesitate.
She shakes her head, amusement lining her face. “Just take the bottle, you. I know you had your first drink at fifteen.”
“I did not have my first drink at fifteen…it was sixteen.”
“Ha.” She offers me the bottle again, and this time, I take it.
I’ve never liked wine, and despite that, I’m not about to reject my mother’s offering. Anybody who knows her, knows better than to do that.
“To answer your earlier question, the drive was fine, except for the shit load of traffic on the highway, so I might crash early tonight. I’m meeting up with Ethan tomorrow morning.”
“That still doesn’t get you out of watching Scandal .”
I’m going to be exhausted tomorrow after hours of watching Scandal with Mom. She doesn’t know that I secretly enjoy it and never will, or she’ll keep me up all night.
“Fine…if you pass me a breadstick.”
“Heads up.” She throws the stick over the pots and I catch it before it hits the floor, almost slipping from the bit of water on the ground.
“Jeez, Mom. What about kitchen safety and all that shit. ”
“Did you get hurt?” she asks dryly.
“No.”
“Then you and the kitchen are safe,” she justifies and flicks a wooden spoon in the air, causing more sauce to land on the ground. I stuff the breadstick into my mouth, my laugh now muffled.
“Elizabeth, do we have any—shit! Fuck!” A thud comes from the entrance, and I step away from the kitchen door. “Cameron, how many times are you going to put your duffle bag in the middle of the foyer? I almost fell flat on my ass!” he yells, bursting into the kitchen.
“You don’t need any help from the duffle bag to do that,” Mom mutters under her breath before tasting the sauce.
I snort. “Sorry, Dad.”
He narrows his eyes. “Yeah, you don’t look sorry to me.” Shrugging his jacket off, he reveals his usual work attire of a button-down shirt and tie.
“How you doin’, bud?”
My dad sets his briefcase down and gives me a hug, matching my height. He fixes his well-trimmed, brown hair that he uses way too many products on from fear of balding, which I make fun of him for constantly. A couple of years ago, he got a job as a real estate attorney, which is how we were able to afford the house. My mom used to be a full-time real estate agent, hence how they met, but she decided to take a break when we moved to Long Beach after I graduated high school.
“Doin’ well, Dad. You?”
“Same old. Classes good? Keeping those grades up?”
I finish off the breadstick. “Everything is good. Grades are great.”
My mom clears her throat loudly, drawing our attention to her side of the kitchen.
“Oh, sorry, honey.” Dad runs to kiss Mom, longer than I expected or wanted them to .
“Your son is in the house. You can continue when I leave in two days.” I feign a gagging sound when they break their kiss.
My mom slaps my arm. “Be grateful that your parents still love each other the way we do, not many kids have that.”
In all honesty, I know I’m lucky to have parents who are still so in love after being together for twenty-five years. But that doesn’t mean I need to see them express that love.
“Wait a minute, I saw a breadstick in your hand when I got in here.” Dad searches the opposite side of the counter. “Where are the damn breadsticks?”
“Go long.” My mom flings one across the kitchen. Dad’s used to her stunts, and he catches it smoothly.
“Thanks, hon.”
“Welcome.” She claps her hands together. “Dinner’s ready. Let’s eat.”
It’s eleven-thirty when my mom frees me from watching Scandal , giving me, a twenty-year-old man, permission to go to bed. We were in a good spot in the second season, although I could barely keep my eyes open. This week has been exciting but so fucking tiring.
I finish getting ready for bed, looking forward to sleeping on newly washed sheets, till I find myself tossing and turning in said sheets. Giving into my insomnia, I rip my phone off its charger and scroll through Instagram. My profile is private and has only one post with my family and me. It’s the account I made after leaving Green Hills High School in an attempt to escape my old life and start over.
Smith isn’t home this weekend, and while he’s one of my closest friends here in town, I’m secretly thankful for that. He’d absolutely obliterate me if he knew what was going on between Kami and I. The thought alone makes me wince. All of my other friends in Long Beach are going to college in other states, and I rarely get to see them. I’m only visiting to catch up with Ethan, besides needing a breather. So much has happened since I moved to Driscoll, and there hasn’t been this much drama in my life since high school.
While looking through my feed, I think about what I really want to be doing, and that’s Kamila. I click the search icon to find her account. Blocking Ana’s profile was the first thing I did when I made a new one. Kamila also deleted her old account, and I always kept myself from looking for the new one until now. I have to sift through a couple of profiles until I find her’s, and of course, it’s private. I hover my finger over the follow button, hesitating. She never said we couldn’t follow each other on social media. The little devil on my shoulder makes a reappearance as if forcing my finger to hit the blue rectangle. Next thing I know, I’m waiting for my request to be accepted. Truth is, I want to be able to see pictures of her when I jerk off to the memories of us fucking. Kamila was insecure in high school for a bit because of her plump curves. Those insecurities kept her from ever noticing the jealousy aimed towards her from other girls and the attention she was getting from the guys.
A notification pops up.
Kamila: Why the hell would you try to follow me on Instagram?
Such a fucking drama queen.
Me: Because I’m horny and don’t have any nudes of you. This seemed like the second-best thing.
There’s no point in beating around the bush. I see three dots appear and disappear multiple times till I get an answer.
Kamila: I don’t send nudes, I’ve never sent nudes and I would never ever, ever send YOU nudes.
This woman. I’m typing back my reply when I receive another message.
Kamila: You can’t follow me. Use your imagination or watch some damn porn like a normal person .
Me: I wasn’t going to ask you for nudes. But now that you mention porn, how’s your night going with your vibrator?
I chuckle at how furious she looked after I teased her this morning. Her nostrils were flaring, cheeks flushed, eyes dark and crazy. It was the sweetest and most tortuous revenge for both of us.
Kamila: Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m headed out to see if I can find somebody to finish off what you started.
My grin falters at that. The weird feeling that’s a little too similar to jealousy comes seeping back in. I shouldn’t be jealous. I have no right to be, yet I also don’t like sharing. One weekend and she’s already planning to sleep with someone else? A woman like her can get any guy she wants with the snap of her fingers. So I do what any other mature twenty-year-old man would, I even the playing field.
Me: I was thinking of doing the same thing.
It’s a lie. I have to wake up at eight tomorrow. Then again, I could easily text one of the girls I hooked up with during my time here in community college. The only reason I’m even considering it is to one up Kamila, and that doesn’t feel right.
My phone buzzes against my chest.
Kamila: Yeah, sure you are…
I groan. She’s infuriating. A throbbing headache seems to form after every conversation or fight we have. I’m sure this pent-up anger and weird jealousy will go away after I jerk off.
Me: Goodnight Kamila. Have fun and like I said earlier, good luck finding someone who can make you come as hard as I can.
All she sends me back is a middle finger emoji. Usually, I’d laugh, but this time, I slam my phone down and start stroking my cock angrily to memories of Thursday. Kamila’s plump tits, her curves, and full ass. How rough I’d take her if she were here for threatening to sleep with someone else twenty hours after I was inside of her.
After five minutes, I come all over my stomach and clean myself up in my bathroom. I land back in bed, still feeling bitter, wondering who she’s going to end up with tonight.
You agreed to the terms.
I’ll fuck her brains out when I get back and make her forget all about the guy she hooked up with tonight because fucking is the only thing we can do. The rules are there for a reason and it’s better to keep it that way.
It’s nine-thirty when I knock on the front door of the tattoo parlor. Ethan’s head pops out from the back room. He holds a finger up, indicating that he needs a minute. The shop doesn’t open for another hour and a half, so we decided to meet here while it was still empty. My cousin has worked at the Ocean Breeze Tattoo Shop in Oceanside for four years now and has formed solid connections, along with regular clients. He got lucky with a great apprenticeship at another shop he worked in for a year.
Ethan makes his way to the front door. “Hey, Cam. Long time no see, dude.” He puts an arm around me and rubs a hand through my hair.
“If you don’t stop doing that, I will pull yours.” I wiggle a strand of his straight black hair that runs past his shoulders.
He takes a step back. “You know better than to touch my hair.”
“Got you to stop messing with mine.”
Finally getting past the entrance, I examine the empty shop. As I walk around, I spot some new business cards on the small reception desk.
“Ethan Jang-Kahlo, you have your own card. When did that happen?”
He comes out of the backroom. “They finally allowed each artist to put them on display for customers to take. I designed them a while ago and it’s gotten me a lot of new followers and clients.”
“That’s great.” I tuck one into my pocket, proud of how far my cousin has come. “Do you need any help setting things up?”
Ethan shakes his head. “Only employees are allowed to touch the equipment, so sit your ass down and let’s catch up.”
Finding the most comfortable couch, I sit and clear my throat, shifting roles from cousin to business partner. “First, I wanted to touch base on how everything’s going here. We already covered social media, but are your customers still steady? Have you spoken to any potential future tattoo artists that you can take under your wing?”
Taking a hair tie, he fixes himself while prepping some new materials. “You worry too much. Everything is handled here, you just focus on getting that degree.”
“Humor me.”
He drops the materials he’s holding then switches roles as well. “Customers are steady, I’m booked solid for the next three months, and as far as connections go, I’m still looking into established tattoo artists. Before they commit, they’ll want to see a full business plan.”
Nodding, I urge him to continue.
“I found this twenty-two-year-old kid who just graduated with a degree in fine arts, and his portfolio is mind-blowing. Of course, it’s different drawing on paper than inking it onto someone’s skin. Either way, I think I can get him ready in a year once we start working together.” He smiles at me in disbelief. “I don’t know how I did it, Cam, but if business continues as is or gets better, our shop is going to be a huge success.”
Smiling, I nod approvingly. “I’m proud of you, dude. It all sounds great.” Standing, I pace the room, trying to think of any more questions I might have.
“You still have all the money that your grandmother gave you, right?” Ethan’s maternal grandmother passed away when he was seventeen and left Ethan, her only grandson, almost all of her savings. It turned out to be a lot more than anyone expected. He’s not rich by any means, still the money is more than enough for us to start our own business in Brooklyn instead of Long Island. The only condition was that he couldn’t access it until he was twenty-three. He’s twenty-six now and as far as I know he’s barely touched it.
He groans. “For the millionth time, yes. I’ve put more into that account, too. We’ll have plenty of money for our first shop and once you get that degree, you can figure out how we can open more around the city.”
All good news. “We’ll be fine. I have a plan.” My pacing stops when I look out the window to see the ice cream shop directly across the street. Mia’s Creamery.
“Is there something else on your mind? You never visit to talk to me about the business, you can do that over the phone. Are you seeing Smith too?”
I keep my eyes on the sign across the road. “No, he’s out of town.” Ethan grunts his response. He’s never been a huge fan of Smith. “I just needed a breather.”
“So, what, or should I say who is on your mind?”
My head snaps to him. He can’t possibly know. “Why do you assume it’s a who ?”
He smirks. “Just a wild guess.”
“It’s nothing important.”
“Yeah, I don’t believe that for a second.”
Clicks resonate through the studio, meaning Ethan has moved to the reception desk. After he finishes typing, I look back, his eyes meet mine, and there’s no humor behind them.
“Tell me what’s on your mind, little bro.”
Pacing again, I give in. I need to talk to someone about something. “Remember the day I got my first tattoo?”
He scoffs. “How can I forget? You guys were so pushy, young, annoying, and stupid. I could’ve gotten into some serious trouble with that shit.” We both smile. “Why were you thinking about that just now? ”
I cast my eyes down. “We ate at Mia’s Creamery that night before heading to your old place.”
The studio goes quiet. “Did you run into Kami at Driscoll by any chance?” I glance back, watching Ethan.
“I lied to you at the beginning of the semester. We have a class together. That one class I told you about that’s difficult for no good fucking reason. She’s my assignment partner till the end of December.”
He whistles. “Woah. I was expecting for you to just bump into her at some point, not have a whole ass class together. How’s it been so far?”
Distracting. Exhausting. Arousing. “It’s been quiet.”
He gives me a that’s bullshit, look. “You sure there’s nothing else going on there?”
Avoiding all eye contact, I plant myself back on the couch.
“I’m sure.”
One thing I do is keep my word, and I gave my word to Kamila when I said I wouldn’t tell anyone. Ethan, although my closest family member, falls under that category.
“I’m not going to make you tell me anything else.”
“Thank you.”
“However,” he continues and I groan. “I will say this. I always liked Kamila. She was so much,” he stops as if stuck on what word to use, “better than Ana.” Her sister’s name comes out as a curse. “You guys had a special connection.”
“Well, shit changes,” I snap at him a little too harshly before apologizing.
He snorts. “I’ll stop talking about her, just know that I’m here.”
“Thanks. I know you are.” Ethan’s been looking out for me since I was a kid. He’s basically my brother.
“And if you ever want to bring her by some time?—”
I cut a hand through the air. “No, just no.”
He laughs, playing with his pen. “Fine, whatever. You wanna grab a bite to eat after closing? ”
“If you stop talking about her, I will have dinner with you.”
He puts his right hand up to his heart. “I swear I will not dare mention the evil girl again.”
I roll my eyes at the fucker. “How’s Chris doing, by the way? I haven’t heard you talk about him in a while.”
Now it’s Ethan’s turn to be dismissive. “We’re taking a break, and before you ask any other questions, it happened right after you left, and no, I don’t know how long it’s going to last.”
Seems like I’m not the only one keeping secrets. “I’m assuming you don’t want to talk about it?”
“You assumed right.” His lips remain tight.
I give him a pat on the shoulder. “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you too, bro.”
“Thanks.” He nods.
Now that he’s distracted, I take the opportunity to mess his hair up with both my hands like we used to when we were kids. I sprint to the door. “See you at seven!” I yell when I’m halfway down the street.
“You’re a dick!” Ethan shouts outside of the shop, annoyed, but the smile in his voice is crystal clear.