13. Cam
CHAPTER 13
CAM
T o say it’s been a weird couple of weeks would be a gross understatement. Of course, there was the excitement of spending some time not working when Daveed had his show, which I thought would be a good time to figure out how exactly I was going to reinvent my life, but instead it turned into a night of drinking far too much coupled with William Davenport trying to waltz back into my life.
Then there were the run-ins, first at my favorite deli with Lo, then at trivia, and finally at the Alley with Elliott. How is it possible that I’ve lived here a whole year and never seen Will once, and then suddenly I see him three times in less than that many weeks?
I can’t even picture the little green syringes or the giant blue fishbowls without facing a bout of nausea. And I don’t have any clue of what to think about this Will situation, which also makes me nauseous. Basically, I’ve spent the last ten days living in a weird space-time continuum of intensely needing to vomit and being utterly dumbfounded over my incredibly terrible luck.
The problem is my best friend is cuddled up with his best friend. Avoiding him is almost impossible at this point. I came to Tampa to have a fresh start, to become the Cam I’ve always been destined to be, and I don’t know if reintroducing the Cam from my past is really helping with that mission. Hello, old friend nausea, I’m so glad you only took a five-minute break.
“What’s going on over there, sweet girl?” Daveed asks, intruding on my thoughts.
“Just thinking, nothing, I’m fine, totally cool over here,” I reply nervously.
“Mm-hmm, sure sounds like it...I’m almost finished up here. Can you take these bowls back to the galley and wash them out for me? I’ll be back as soon as I get Ms. Martha here under the dryer, and we’re going to talk it out.” He directs me with a point of his index finger and a reassuring nod.
Great! Fantastic! No biggie! I’ve tried so hard to keep it together. Coming to work, asking great questions in preparation for the hair trials I will be facing to earn my chair, and keeping my head down. I should’ve known that Daveed would poke and prod it out of me at some point.
I puff out a deep sigh and quickly round up all the dirty color bowls before making my way to the back. Maybe I can distract him with a conversation on color waste, seeing how some of these bowls are nearly full. It’s pretty apparent there’s some overmixing going on.
Rationally, I know it won’t work. Daveed is good at sussing out the goings on of his employees; he looks at us like we belong to him—not in a controlling way, but in a loving, you’re-my-family kind of way. Aside from his four fur babies, his stylists and assistants are the children he and his partner, Luka, never had.
“Staring at the bowls won’t clean them, Cameron,” Daveed chides, sounding a little annoyed but more concerned than anything as he walks into the galley.
“So-Sorry, I was just thinking this is a lot of waste. People must be overmixing, and you know, maybe we should do something about it,” I say, trying to convey my one-hundred-percent loyalty to his bottom line.
“Oh, so that’s what we’re doing now?” he asks, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter.
“What?” I play dumb.
“Evading, trying to drum up some financial woes to distract me from my sweet girl and why she’s been acting like a distracted mess for days,” he murmurs.
“Fine, I’ll spill. But can we go out back? It’s kind of personal,” I plead, playing to his inner drama-loving queen. The last thing I need is the salon gossip mill spinning, though I’m sure Micah has done enough sharing as it is.
Daveed opens the back door and sweeps his arm, directing me to go out first. My butt hasn’t even finished settling in the chair when the events of the past couple weeks come spilling out of me.
“So, remember the ex I told you about? Well he . . . he lives here.”
“What? This is a sign,” he gasps, clutching his heart.
“No, it’s definitely not a sign. It’s just my shitty luck,” I groan, covering my face with my hands.
“How could you say such a thing, sweets? The universe is always giving us exactly what we need.” He’s clearly offended by my lack of faith in fate, but it feels like a cruel joke.
“And what about this is exactly what I need? Do tell.” Challenging Daveed is never wise. He always has some pesky truth bomb hidden up his sleeve to make you question life.
“Let me ask you something. Did you love him?”
“Of course I did. And I think a part of me always will. But he said he didn’t love me. He threw away our plans.” I plead my case, but I can tell he isn’t convinced.
“Did he? I seem to recall you saying that he dumped you when he chose the service over college. There was something about money involved, was there not?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t explain how one minute he could love me and the next we’re just done.”
Daveed raises a single eyebrow and asks, “How’s he been acting when you’ve seen him lately?”
“Fine. I guess.” I’m not exactly sure how to answer that. It’s not like he’s been rude to me. I mean, we have banter, but that was always the fun part of being around him. It’s just that seeing him is so random and piles on top of my already anxiety-riddled, uncharted course in life.
“Let me get this straight. The love of your life, the one that got away, the William Fucking Davenport, saunters back into your life, and all you can muster is fine, you guess?”
“Okay, so it’s been infuriating. He’s as gorgeous as ever and here I am, not at my best. But then, I also don’t care what he thinks because I’m mad and I don’t think I could ever trust him again,” I admit.
“What does Will think?” he asks, slyly.
“How should I know? He’s the king of mixed signals, flirty and protective or bantering one minute, and then cold as ice the next. I mean, he seems like he’s the same Will, but then again, he’s not. He’s so much harder than he used to be, more tentative, cautious, not trusting...” I trail off with a sigh.
“That’s Uncle Sam for ya, always hardening up the boys for battle.”
Laughter bursts from my lips, and Daveed hits me with a funny look before he hears it too. “Should I start calling you Uncle Sam? You know, since you also have a way of hardening up the boys, Daveed?” I ask, giving my eyebrows a wiggle.
He cackles. “You absolutely should, but it has to be our little secret.” He presses a finger to his lips. “I don’t know how Luka would feel about being called a mere boy.”
“Noted, you’re secret safe with me.” I zip my lips and mimic throwing away the key.
“In all seriousness though, Cameron. I know you’re on some mission to reinvent yourself, but I don’t think that means you can’t also reconnect with the past. People come into your life for all kinds of reasons. Relationships all have beginnings and ends, could be a breakup or a death or simply just deciding to pursue other avenues, but you have to remember one thing. The only, and I mean the only thing that matters is how you conduct yourself in the middle. If you’re his friend, show him the love and support that you would give any other friend you have. Then if he walks away, you can hold your head high knowing you were the best you could be while it lasted.”
Daveed’s truth bomb lingers heavy in the air, exposing my soul. I don’t think I did everything right the last time I was with Will. I didn’t understand him when he said he was joining the military. I was so desperate to hold on to what we had, I didn’t consider his circumstances. Yes, he said he didn’t love me, but I remember the look on his face when he said it. He didn’t mean it.
Maybe that’s why I’ve held on so long, it’s unfinished business, a wound that never healed. While I know I’m not ready for anything more than friendship, maybe this is my chance to redo it and right those wrongs. I feel gutted. I’ve been on a high horse for five years, alternating between wanting him back and being so hurt that now even the most basic of things make me doubt myself.
My phone dings and I hesitate, not sure if my conversation with Daveed has come to an end. After some awkward eye contact, Daveed excuses himself, telling me I better look at it—and that I most certainly better keep him in the loop or else I’ll be solely on ear-candling duty for the foreseeable future. You would not believe the weird shit that people have inside their ears—my stomach turns at the thought. Ugh, will I ever not be nauseated again? The jury is still out.
Will
Hey. I kind of need a favor, and Lo told me if I didn’t ask you she would kill me. She’s scary, by the way.
Cam
Yeah, okay That girl couldn’t hurt a fly. What is it, Rambo?
Will
So, I know you don’t really like “sporty” things, your words not mine, but there is this fundraiser my squadron does every year, and up until five minutes ago Smith was my partner. But you know LOOOOOO got involved and I can’t participate alone and it’s mandatory sooo...wanna be partners?
Cam
It’s not something Amy can do? If it’s, as you say, “sporty,” I’m not sure I would actually be doing you a favor. Remember the bowling alley incident?Actually don’t. Please forget that.
Will
I don’t know anything about a bowling alley, actually I’ve never even been to one, Wright. And nope, Amy’s busy. I promise you will be fine, and I’ll be with you the whole time. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t really need a friend. Please say yes! I’ll pick you up Saturday at noon.
Cam
I work on Saturdays. I guess I can sweet-talk my way into getting off an hour early, but you will have to come to the salon. Also, what am I supposed to wear?
Will
Just wear athletic gear and bring a change of clothes. Thank you, I owe you my life. It’s a date.
Cam
You got it, dude! Also, not a date . . .
Will
It’s just a figure of speech. Thanks again.
Cam
You owe me, Rambo.
I don’t know what the hell I just signed myself up for, but my stomach is doing somersaults at the thought of spending more time with Will. Why did he call it a date? It’s not a date. Also—“you got it, dude”? Who am I, Michelle Tanner? I know I better get my butt back inside to fill in Daveed, but first I need to send Lo a hate text. She seriously owes me for this. Sports and I don’t mix.