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“He’s in custody. Get used to it,” he lashes out.
I stumble-walk over to my desk and sit down heavily on the chair. Camden pushes off from the wall and reaches into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out a packet of cigarettes. He grabs one and lights it, drawing in a deep lungful before blowing it out slowly.
“You can’t smoke in the rooms,” I say, rubbing my hands over my thighs. I don’t know why I say that instead of addressing the fact that my friend has been arrested and what that means. I don’t actually care that he’s smoking, I’ve lit up often enough, but it’smyroom and he’s got no right making himself comfortable. His gaze moves to my bouncing legs. All the adrenaline rushing through me needs a place to go and this is the result. I wish they’d stop moving. To give myself something to do, I open the window behind me then sit back down, forcing myself to keep still. Forcing my breathing to calm down and my thoughts to stop racing.
“It fucking stinks,” I say, wafting my hand in front of my face. Not really talking about the cigarette smoke, but about this whole sorry night.
“I don’t give a shit,” Camden retorts, making himself comfortable on my bed. His gaze lands on the sketchpad. Reaching for it, he flicks it open randomly, showing a drawing of Eastern and Braydon. They’re smiling,happy. I drew it last Christmas when I joined them for dinner.
It was a good day and my heart squeezes at how shitty everything is now, at how quickly everything can change. You’d think I’d be used to how my life can flip on a coin. I’m not.
“It’s a good likeness,” Camden remarks, but when I catch his gaze, I don’t know whether he’s talking about this sketch or the one that made his eyes widen earlier. When I refuse to acknowledge his compliment, a scowl forms on his beautiful,lethalface. That’s exactly what he is. Sharp, dangerous, deadly, just like the edge of a knife.
I have the sudden urge to snatch up my sketchpad, but I don’t. I refuse to do or say anything that would give my feelings away. He’s already seen me cry and I won’t give him any more of me. He’s had enough of a glimpse already. Too much, actually. He’s seen more than anyone else has, Eastern included.
Instead, I let the silence fill the space between us. I don’t need to have a conversation with him. This ismyfucking room. If he doesn’t like the company, he can get the fuck out. Honestly, I’m in shock that he's actually here right now sitting on my bed without a care in the world. Yet, I’ve just run for my life fromhiscrew only to find out that my best friend is in custody and I can’t contact him anymore. Eastern’s video message told me not to ‘piss him off’but he wasn’t talking about Monk, he was talking aboutCamden. It all makes sense now.
Neither one of us speak. Camden smokes the cigarette right down to the butt, then pinches his fingers over the end putting it out, before chucking it out of my open window. He blows out a plume of smoke then looks at me. His topaz eyes flashing through the haze.
“Eastern was caught delivering speed and amphetamines to a third-party distributor. He fucked up, but he managed to get away. He ran, he hid, and then the police found him and arrested him.”
“You say that like it’s his fault! You sent him on the job. This is all onyou!” I shout.
Camden leans forward. “No, this is onhim. He knew the score and he made his choice. End of story.”
“This is bullshit. He has a family to look after, his kid brother is disabled, for fuck sake. His mum doesn’t have anyone left. What the hell is she supposed to do now?”
“Not my problem. We all have baggage.” There’s that coldness again. The I-don’t-give-a-flying-fuck-about-anyone-else look. Ihateit. Ihatehim.
From outside my room I can hear footsteps and talking. There’s some laughter too. I’m pretty sure I can hear Sonny cuss out Bram but I’m too angry to try and distinguish what he’s saying. My whole body is vibrating with it. “That’s it? No apology for fucking up my best friend’s life?”
“I don’t apologise for something that isn’t my fault.”
“Ihateyou,” I spit.
“Whatever.” Camden stands. I get to my feet stepping closer to him.
“And setting your crew on me, I suppose that isn’t your fault either?”
“No. Not my style.”
“Bullshit,” I snap back, not believing him for a second.
“I don’t play games, Asia. If I want to take out an enemy,Igo for the jugular.”
“Oh, I get it. I see where we’re at. I insulted you in front of your crew, so you set up my best friend. You sent him on a drop that would get him arrested. Is that what you mean by going for the jugular?”
Camden’s jaw clenches; I can almost hear the grinding of his teeth. “No. Eastern already made his choice to work for me. To join my crew. I didn’t set him up. His mistake has fucked us all over. The final nail inmycoffin. That’s why I’m here, paying for his fucking mistake. He owes me big.”
“What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t matter. Point is, no one wins. We’re all fucking losers.”
“Don’t try and make out he owes you one. You brought this on yourself. You set my friend up and you sent Monk and his posse after me because I pissed you off. That’s the kind of person you are. A fucking tyrant.”
He steps closer to me, crossing his muscular arms across his broad chest. “Believe what you want. It’s the truth. We might be on opposite sides of the line, Asia, but I respect my enemies. I don’t play games.Itake them out.”
“So, we are still enemies then?” I don’t know why I ask that, but for some reason I need it clarified. This conversation doesn’t feel like the ones I have with Monk, if you can call them conveersations- more like a bully meting out punishment. It’s just as well that I refuse to be Monk’s victim. I’m hisadversary, there’s a difference. He won’t beat me down and neither will this arsehole.
