Beautiful Oblivion (Maddox Brothers #1)(24)
Author: Jamie McGuire

“Sorry,” Trenton said, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. He held out his elbow, and I took it. All of my brothers and my parents were standing at the open door, watching us walk up the drive.

“I’m the one who will be apologizing later.”

“Why’s that?”

“Who the f**k is this jackass?” Dad said.

I sighed. “This is Trent Maddox. Trent, this is my dad, Felix.”

“It’s Mr. Camlin,” Dad sneered.

Trenton held out his hand, and Dad took it, staring him down. Trenton wasn’t the least bit intimidated, but I was still inwardly cringing.

“This is my mom, Susan.”

“Nice to meet you,” Trenton said, lightly shaking her hand.

Mom offered a small smile, and then pulled me into her chest, kissing my cheek. “It’s about time you visit your mama.”

“Sorry,” I said, even though we both knew I wasn’t.

We all walked into the dining room, except for Mom, who disappeared into the kitchen. She returned with an extra setting for Trenton, and then went back into the kitchen. This time, she came to the table with a steaming bowl of mashed potatoes that she set on a hot pad, next to all the other food.

“All right, all right,” Dad said. “Sit down so we can get to eat already.”

Trenton’s eye twitched.

“It all looks great, Mom, thanks,” Clark said.

Mom smiled, and leaned toward the table, “You’re welcome, so—”

“What’s with all the goddamn formalities? I’m starvin’ here!” Dad growled.

We all passed the various dishes around the table and filled our plates. I picked at my food, waiting for the first shot that would start the war. Mom was on edge, which meant she knew something was up.

“What the hell is all that on your fingers?” Dad asked me.

“Uh . . .” I held up my hands for a moment, trying to think of a lie.

“We were messing around with a Sharpie,” Trenton said.

“Is that what all that black shit is all over?” Dad asked.

“Ink. Yes,” I said, rolling my food around on my plate. My mother was an exceptional cook, but Dad always had a way of robbing me of my appetite.

“Pass the salt,” Dad said, snapping at Coby when he took too long. “Damn it, Susan. You never put in enough salt. How many times have I told you?”

“You can add the salt, Dad,” Clark said. “This way it’s not too salty for the rest of us.”

“Too salty? This is my goddamn house. She’s my wife! She cooks for me! She cooks the way I like it, not the way you like it!”

“Don’t rile yourself up, honey,” Mom said.

Dad slammed the side of his fist on the table. “I’m not riled up! I’m just not going to stand for someone to come into my house and tell me how my wife should prepare my food!”

“Shut up, Clark,” Chase growled.

Clark shoveled another bite into his mouth and chewed. He had been the peacekeeper for years, and still wasn’t ready to give up. Out of all of my brothers, he was the easiest to be around, and to love. He delivered Coke products to convenience stores around town, and always ran behind schedule because the female employees would chat his ear off. He had a kindness in his eyes that couldn’t be missed. He got that from our mother.

Dad nodded, and then eyed Trenton. “Does Cami know you from school, or work?”

“Both,” Trenton said.

“Trent grew up in Eakins,” I said.

“Born and raised,” Trenton said.

Dad thought for a moment, and then narrowed his eyes. “Maddox . . . you’re Jim’s boy, aren’t ya?”

“Yes,” Trenton answered.

“Oh, I just loved your mother. She was a wonderful woman,” Mom said.

“Thank you,” Trenton said with a smile.

“For f**k’s sake, Susan, you didn’t even know her,” Dad chided. “Why does everyone who dies have to turn into a goddamn saint?”

“She was pretty close,” Trenton said.

Dad looked up, unappreciative of Trenton’s tone. “And how would you know? Weren’t you a toddler when she died?”

“Dad!” I yelled.

“Did you just raise your voice to me in my house? I oughta come across this table and slap your sass mouth!”

“Felix, please,” Mom begged.

“I remember her,” Trenton said. He was showing an exorbitant amount of control, but I could hear the strain in his voice. “Mrs. Camlin’s memory is accurate.”

“So you work with her at the Red?” Chase asked, unmistakable superiority in his voice.

I’m not sure what expression was on my face, but Chase lifted his chin, defiant.

Trenton didn’t answer. Chase was corralling us into a trap, and I knew exactly why.

“Which job, then?” Chase asked.

“Stop it,” I said through my teeth.

“What do you mean which job?” Dad asked. “She only has one job, at the bar, you know that.” When no one agreed, he looked to Trenton. “You work at the Red?”

“No.”

“So you’re a patron.”

“Yes.”

Dad nodded. I sighed in relief, grateful Trenton wasn’t giving any more information than necessary.

“Didn’t you say you were working a second job?” Chase asked.

I pressed my palms flat against the table. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

Coby caught on to what was happening, and stood up. “I just remembered. I have a . . . I have to make a phone call.”

“Sit down!” Dad yelled. “You don’t just stand up at the dinner table! What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Is this true?” Mom asked in her quiet voice.

“I took a part-time gig at Skin Deep Tattoo. It’s not a big deal,” I said.

“What? You can’t pay your bills? You said that bartending job makes you a month’s worth in one weekend!” Dad said.

“It does.”

“So you’re spending more than you’re making? What did I tell you about being responsible? Damn it, Camille! How many times have I told you not to get the credit cards?” He wiped his mouth and threw his napkin on the table. “I didn’t whip your ass enough as a child! If I had, you might listen to me once in a goddamn while!”

Trenton was staring at his plate, breathing faster, and leaning a bit forward. I reached over to touch his knee.