SINNERS & SAINTS ⋆ nikki sixx

69. I Know It's Over.

"You don't see me bitching at you for that tattoo on your back—"

"That is a tribute to my fucking father!"

"And it's ugly as hell!" She barked. "You have angel wings on your back, Hayden! I'm sure you could've thought of something better to commemorate your father with than a pair of goddamn angel wings!"

"You're sick."

"You're sick." Christine mimicked him, unable to feel even a sliver of remorse.

Because truthfully, she didn't give a damn.

About Hayden, his stupid tattoo, his dead father. Christine couldn't find it within herself to so much as pretend to care about what she had said.

Their relationship had run its course, as far as she was concerned. And absolutely anything that Hayden said—or did—had the propensity to churn her stomach, boil her blood, and strike the solitary match that'd ignite her impending outburst.

She'd been teetering toward the edge for quite some time now.

"If you're allowed to ridicule my very temporary nipple piercings, then I'm allowed to ridicule that monstrosity that spans the width of your back—"

"No, you aren't." He demanded she shut up with a simple look, but she wasn't backing down. "Those piercings—the horrible traumas to your beautiful body—don't hold any significance. The tattoo is for my old man who is dead. Get some respect."

Christine chuckled to herself, reaching for the crate of Pepsi that Nicole had so kindly left out on the island. She grabbed a can, wondering whether drinking it would be just as satisfying as launching it at his head.

"Don't ignore me."

"I'm not ignoring you, Hayden. I just don't have anything else to add to the conversation."

"Oh, you don't?" He hastily rounded the breakfast bar and pressed both hands atop the granite, watching her carefully wreathe her finger beneath the ring-pull so that she didn't snap her nail.

The aluminum cracked, a dusting of Pepsi sprayed from the lip, and Christine put it back onto the counter.

She didn't use very much force, but she made sure to curl her hand around the can and squeeze it lightly. Just enough for him to see.

"I don't."

Her shoulders shrugged indifferently while she grabbed a clean glass from the draining rack. Again, Christine couldn't decide whether she wanted to tip her drink into it or smash it against his thick fucking skull.

She was leaning toward the latter now.

"I'd bet this wouldn't be the case if Nikki were the one to say that."

"You're obsessed with him, aren't you?" She snarled, watching his face fall. "You really can't go one day without comparing how I am with you, to how I was with Nikki, can you?"

He remained silent. Because it was right. And he knew—all too well, actually—how ridiculous he sounded whenever Nikki's name bled from his tongue.

Though, Hayden was a man swelling with pride. A complete ravine of arrogance. And if he could help it, he would seldom agree with her not-so subtle digs.

"As if I'd try to make such a fucking parallel. I'm just saying."

"What are you saying, though?" Christine asked once more. "'Cus, to me, it seems like you're real insecure in this relationship, and you're seeking some kind of validation by tryin' to scope out what me and Nikki were like all those years ago. And it's a little weird, hun."