Jamie McGuire - Beautiful Oblivion

“Fantastic,” I said.

“I’m Hazel,” a tiny woman said from the other side of the room. She walked over to me and held out her hand. The dark bronze skin of her arms was covered from wrist to shoulder by dozens of pieces of colorful artwork. Her ears glistened with hardware that spanned the entire rim of her cartilage, and a rhinestone glistened in the place of a beauty mark. She was naturally a dark brunette, but her faux hawk was a brassy blond. “I’m the body piercer,” she said, her thick lips forming around the words with elegance and the tiniest hint of an accent. For such a tiny thing, her grip was tight; her bright turquoise nails were so long, I wondered how she did anything, especially the complicated task of piercing small areas of the body.

“Cami. As of two minutes ago, I’m the receptionist.”

“Cool,” she said with a smile. “If anyone asks for me, always get their name and take a message. If it’s a girl by the name of Alisha, tell her to choke on a dick.”

She walked away, and I looked at Trenton, eyebrows raised high. “Okay, then.”

“They broke up a few months ago. She’s still angry.”

“I caught that.”

“So, here are the forms,” Trenton said, pulling out the long, bottom drawer of a metal filing cabinet. We went over those between phone calls and customers, and when Trenton was busy, Hazel came up to help. Calvin stayed back in his office for the most part, and it didn’t occur to me to mind.

After Trenton finished a client, he saw her out, and then poked his head inside one of the double glass doors. “You’re probably getting hungry. Want me to grab you something from next door?”

Next door was Pei Wei’s, and the delicious, salty, and savory smells of their food wafted in every time someone opened the doors, but I was working two jobs to help Coby get caught up on his bills. Eating out wasn’t a luxury I could afford.

“No, thanks,” I said, feeling my stomach growl. “It’s almost closing time. I’ll just grab a sandwich at home.”

“You’re not starving?” Trenton asked.

“Nope,” I said.

He nodded. “Well, I’m going. Tell Cal I’ll be right back.”

“No problem,” I said, feeling my shoulders sag a bit when the door closed.

Hazel was in her room with a customer, so I went back there and watched her impale the septum of some guy’s nose. He didn’t even flinch.

I recoiled.

Hazel noticed my expression and smiled. “I call these The Bull. They’re pretty popular because you can just tuck the ring right up into the nostrils and hide it, like so.”

I winced. “That’s . . . fantastic. Trent went next door for dinner. He’ll be back.”

“He better bring me something,” she said. “I’m fucking famished.”

“How do you fit food in that body?” the client said. “If I eat rice, I gain ten pounds, and all you Chinese chicks are tiny. I don’t get it.”

“I’m Filipina, you fucktard,” she said, flicking his ear, hard. He yelped.

I pressed my lips together, and walked back to the vestibule. A few minutes later, Trenton walked in, two large plastic bags in his hands. He set them on the counter and began pulling out different dishes.

Hazel walked up with her customer. “I already went over the care instructions, so he’s good to go,” she said. She took one look at the thin boxes on the counter and her eyes brightened. “I love you, Trent. I seriously, motherfucking love you.”

“You’re making me blush,” he said with a smile. I had seen the scary sides of Trenton more than once, in middle school, high school, and more recently, at the Red. Now he had the most content look on his face, just happy that he’d made Hazel happy. “And this is for you,” Trenton said, pulling out a box.

“But . . .”

“I know. You said you weren’t hungry. Just eat so you don’t hurt my feelings.”

I didn’t argue. I peeled the cellophane off a set of plastic utensils and dug in, not caring if I looked like a wild animal.

Calvin strolled up from the back, clearly led by his nose. “Dinner?”

“For us. Go get your own,” Trenton said, waving Calvin off with his plastic fork.

“Goddamn,” Calvin said. “I almost wish I had a vagina so I could get fed around here.” Trenton ignored him. “Did Bishop ever come in?”

“Nope,” Hazel said, her mouth full of food.

Calvin shook his head and pushed out the double doors, likely on his way to Pei Wei’s.

The phone rang, and I answered, still chewing. “Skin Deep Tattoo . . .”

“Is uh . . . is Hazel busy?” a voice said, low pitched but feminine, like mine.

“She’s with a client. Can I take your name?”

“No. Actually . . . uh . . . yeah. Tell her it’s Alisha.”

“Alisha?” I said, looking at Hazel. She began silently mouthing every cuss word in existence, and flipping off the phone with fingers from both hands.

“Yeah?” she said, sounding hopeful.

“ The Alisha?”

She chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so. Is she coming to the phone?”

“No, but she left a message for you. Eat a dick, Alisha.”

Trenton and Hazel froze, and the other end of the line was silent for a few seconds.

“Excuse me?”

“Eat. A. Dick,” I said, and then hung up the phone.

After a few moments of shock, Hazel and Trenton burst into a duet of laughter. After a full minute of trying to stop laughing and making that tired sigh sound in between giggles, they both began wiping their eyes. Hazel’s thick mascara was running down her cheeks.

Hazel leaned in to pull a tissue out of the box sitting on the counter next to the computer. She dabbed under her eyes, and then patted me on the shoulder. “We’re going to get along just fine.” She pointed back with her thumb as she retreated to her room. “Land that one, Trent. She’s right up your alley.”

“She has a boyfriend,” Trenton called to her, staring into my eyes and grinning.

We just stood there for a few moments, exchanging small smiles, and then I righted my posture, looking for a clock. “I’ve got to go. Need to read a chapter before bed.”

“I’d offer you help, but school wasn’t really my thing.”

I slipped my red hobo over my shoulder. “That’s only because while you were there, partying and girls were your thing. It might be different now. You should look into taking a class.”

“Nah,” he said, pulling his cap off his head and turning it forward. He adjusted it a few times as he mulled over my suggestion, as if he had never considered it until that moment.

Just then, three college kids stumbled in, loud, obnoxious, and giggling. Even if they weren’t drunk, it was easy for us locals to spot the transplants. Two guys, probably freshmen, approached the counter, and the girl, wearing a pink sundress and thigh-high boots, followed behind. Trenton immediately caught her eye, and she began smoothing out her hair.

“Jeremy lost a bet,” one of the kids said. “He’s going to need a Justin Bieber tat.”

Jeremy let his head fall to the counter. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“We’re closed,” I said.

“We have money,” the kid said, opening his wallet. “I’m prepared to give everyone in here a tip that will blow your mind.”

“We’re closed,” I said. “Sorry.”

“She doesn’t want your money, Clay,” the girl said with a smirk.

“She wants my money,” Clay said, leaning in. “You work at the Red, don’t you?”

I just stared at him.

“Working more than one job . . .” Clay said, thinking.

Jeremy cringed. “Come on, Clay. Let’s just go.”

“I have a proposition for you to earn some extra cash. You’d make in one night what you probably make in a month here.”