“Quiet?”
“Mmhmm. Too quiet for someone whose brand-new Socks and Coffee mug is about to hit the shelves.”
I turned the mug around for Salem to see.
“Well, there’s nothing to worry about because I’m just fine. And the last time I checked…” I paused to pick up another mug from the box. I turned it over and showed her the bottom of the mug. “Your name is on these too. So they’re part of your brilliant designing,” I reminded her.
“Okay, as long as you say you’re all good.”
“I am. I promise. I was just thinking about some framed photographs I saw yesterday.”
“Oh? Do tell,” she prompted.
“I was helping Andrew hang some new pictures at Oxygen yesterday, and they were beyond hot and sexy.”
“Porn?” Salem said stiffly with her arms folded over her chest.
“No, not porn. Erotic images.”
“So, a nicer way of saying porn.”
“No,” I said quietly. Without saying another word, I put three mugs out on the shelf while some customers walked by. Once they moved up in the line, I glanced at Salem. “Anyhow, Andrew and I got to talking while we worked, and he said he was able to get the photographer to agree to come into the club to do private photo shoots.”
“Porn photo shoots.”
“No. Not porn. Erotic images.”
Salem shook her head, and I couldn’t help but notice she looked thoroughly pissed off.
“So, what? You liked the pictures and what?” Her tone turned cold.
“And I was thinking about maybe talking to James about me doing a private photo shoot,” I said.
“Are you kidding me?” Salem stopped putting mugs on the shelf and turned to face me with her hands on her hips. She glared at me with hateful eyes. “Seriously, Bran? Is this some sick joke?”
“No—”
“After everything with Sebastian? After all the sick pictures they took and profited from off us, you’re considering doing it again?”
“What? No.”
“I can’t believe you, Bran.”
I turned my head in the direction of another customer who had stopped at the tower of shelves. She picked up one of our mugs and got in line with it.
“Hey, look, she’s getting our mug.” I had hoped it would completely change the subject.
“Great. Maybe I should go tell her that the co-creator of the mugs is into lewd photographs,” she said sarcastically.
“What? I can’t believe how you’re acting—”
“Me? Well, you’re the masochist. Maybe you enjoyed being held captive by that sicko for all those years after all.”
Tears filled my lower eyelids. Why was she being like this to me? She continued to put mugs on the shelves and acted like I wasn’t even there. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath, and I felt a lump form in my throat. I wasn’t going to fucking cry at work.
I walked behind the counter and filled a plastic cup with ice and then put it under the nozzle for water. I glanced at my manager who was now standing beside me, filling an order for a tropical iced tea.
“I’m going to take a quick break out back,” I mumbled.
