Page 55 of Saving Pookie

Tamra turns from me, going back to rearranging liquor bottles on the shelves while Avalon smirks in my direction and points toward the bathrooms.

"You've always been my favorite gal here." I blow Avalon a kiss, and as I duck away from the bar, I'm filled with a warm heart, knowing Tamra heard what I'd just said.

The hallway that houses the bathrooms is long and darker than the rest of the bar, with only dim lights illuminating the narrow walkway. There are ten bathrooms, each of them private. The things that go on in these bathrooms. At the end of the hall is an out-of-service dark room that's in the process of renovations. It's been that way for over a year, so God knows if the fuckroom is ever going to come back into service.

A bathroom door opens at the end of the hall, and out comes Pookie. He marches in my direction with his head bowed down, not looking ahead, and bumps straight into me. His gaze lifts to meet mine, and he lets out an exaggerated sigh.

I grab him by the arm. "I need to talk to you."

He shakes me free and frowns. "I'm not in the mood, Braxton."

"I just got a tongue-lashing by Mr. Pink, and not the good kind." I lean around the corner to make sure nobody is watching, especially any cameras. We seem to be in the clear. I look back to Pookie. "Why are you mad at me? I was protecting you."

"Cameron wasn't going to do anything. There was a camera pointed right at him, and besides, I didn't ask you to do that."

I groan, more than a little frustrated. "Why can't you just tell everyone the truth?"

"Would you be quiet?" He rips me into the nearest bathroom and spins the lock behind us. "Do you know how humiliating it'd be to stand in front of not just my friends, but the whole world and say, 'Yeah, that man used to beat the shit out of me'?"

I comb a hand through his hair. "It's not your fault."

"That's not the point." He retreats backward, cupping his hand over his face. "I took this job to escape Cameron, and now I'm back at square one. They're digging into my life now." He exhales sideways and briefly closes his eyes. "Jules is asking me about Cameron, and she suspects I'm lying."

"What did you tell her?"

"That he's a jealous ex, but clearly that is not the story Cameron has told Gunnar. God knows what other conversations they've been filming."

"Gunnar's a prick," I mumble under my breath.

"I'm well aware of that, but he doesn't know the truth so I can't entirely blame him."

"Please don't make excuses for him," I scowl. "You're probably right that he doesn't know, but he still brought Cameron around to fuck with you, and that makes him a piece of shit."

Pookie leans his back against the wall and tilts his head back, staring up at the ceiling. He sputters his lips and lets out a sharp exhale. "This is a shitty situation, and I'm trapped."

"You're not trapped," I say, trying to soothe his fears.

"I am." He drops his gaze to meet mine, and there's something about those eyes that awakens the feral beast within me, that makes me want to protect him, need to protect him. There's this sadness, too, that comes and goes. Puppy dog eyes that pull at my heartstrings. "I either let Cameron paint me out to be this person I'm not, or I tell the truth."

From where I'm standing, I don't understand how this can be a complicated decision at all. I'm not Pookie, though. I haven't walked in his shoes, or been through the hell he's been through. I don't know what it's like to be confronted with this terrible thing you thought you escaped, to look that terrible person in the eyes and not be able to say anything.

I bite my lip contemplatively and move to the sink to lean against it. "What do you want to do?"

"I want to run," he says flatly, those dark eyes deepening.

I shake my head. "Running isn't an option."

Not just because he can't let Cameron win, but also because he's my best friend. He's not going anywhere. I won't allow it.

"It might be the onlyoption." He sighs. "It's the one thing I'm good at."

I raise my thumb. "You're good at many things." I raise my pointer finger too. "You're not going to let him ruin a good thing."

A silence falls between us before he whispers, "Us?"

His inquiry stuns me into silence. It takes me a good few seconds to collect my bearings. "The job, the show." I've been thinking about the usof it all since the other night, but thinking about it is a world apart from talking about it. "It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Don't let a piece of shit like Cameron win. Guys like him, they get everything they want. You want to hurt him back? Beat him at his own game."

"That sounds wonderful in theory, but you don't know him like I do." Pookie approaches the sink, approaches me. He places a hand on my thigh like he's trying to comfort me. And it's like, look, pal, I'm not the one who needs comforting here. "There's this inner rage I'm not even sure he understands. It's like he's two different people. He can be sweet and charming⁠—"