21. Cameron
CAMERON
I’d said I was going back to the office, but as I stalked back to my car, I realized it was the last place I wanted to be. I didn’t want to deal with my employees pretending they hadn’t just watched me freak the fuck out in front of the world.
I tried to tell myself it was just a blip that would pass, but I’d seen our numbers. People were fascinated with CamLicity, and this scandal would be even juicier to fixate on.
Jimmy held the car door open for me. Did he watch the debacle unfold online? No, the man was in his early sixties. He probably only used his phone for calls and solitaire.
I needed to think fast. Where could I go to forget about the world for a little bit?
“Take me to Tyler’s place, please,” I said to Jimmy as he slid into the driver’s seat.
I leaned my head back and closed my eyes on the drive across town, trying not to think about what had just happened. No, what I’d just done. I needed to take ownership of my tirade. Had I been justifiably angry? Sure. But did my reaction go too far? Well, yeah.
The Veritique alerts on my phone were nonstop, but I wasn’t about to check them. A reflexive part of me thought about Felicity every time the chimes sounded, because I’d made a Pavlovian connection between the alerts and the woman who caused them to go off.
I was damn sure Felicity wanted nothing to do with me at the moment.
Or perhaps ever. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her shocked face.
Her disbelief as I explained that what had happened between us was over.
I’d been so caught up in my anger that I hadn’t exactly been gentle as I’d ended things with her.
But still, she had to understand, and agree, that our relationship had gotten out of hand.
Better to end it now, before someone really got hurt.
For some reason, I needed to keep reminding myself of that fact.
Jimmy eased up to the curb by Tyler’s place, and I hopped out before he had a chance to open the door for me. I climbed the narrow staircase to his apartment hoping he’d be awake enough to have a conversation with me. I knocked on the door wondering what version of my friend was going to greet me.
The door cracked and someone peered out. “Yeah?”
“Who are you?” I demanded.
“Who are you?” he asked defensively. He checked me out from head to toe. “You a lawyer or something?”
“Tyler,” I called out in a loud voice. “What’s going on?”
He appeared behind the guy and flung the door open. “Bro, come in! What is up?”
The stranger in question was none other than Tyler’s buddy from his gig at Frankie’s Tavern. Jerry. Seeing him was exactly what I didn’t need. Especially with his pupils blown like that, showing he was definitely on something. Maybe a couple different somethings.
Fuck. I wasn’t in the mood to negotiate whatever was going on with the two of them. I desperately hoped it was nothing more than an acoustic jam session, but that didn’t seem likely.
“Hi Ty, I guess I should ask you the same question,” I said as I moved past Jerry and into the main room. “I didn’t realize you had company.”
“He’s always up for a good time, and so am I,” Jerry said as he followed closely behind me, as if his wiry frame could intimidate me. “I remember you now. We met after Ty’s gig. You were sorta uptight that night.” He laughed.
The main room was messier than usual, with a few empty pizza boxes on the counter along with a mound of wrappers and unopened mail and a variety of bottles and cups on the coffee table. Most of them were beer bottles, which explained why the apartment smelled like a frat party.
“So, what’s going on?” I asked, perching on a bar stool next to the kitchen counter.
Jerry suddenly looked uncomfortable.
“We’re just chilling,” Tyler said. “S’all good. I took care of Boris today, so don’t worry about that.”
He was slurring and having a hard time remaining upright. I frowned at him, but he locked onto Jerry.
“Yeah, hey, can I get you a drink, man?” Jerry offered. “You look like a vodka guy, and we just happen to have some—”
“We?” I demanded. “Ty, are you guys roommates now?”
“No, no,” he stammered, looking guilty. “We’ve just been hanging out more lately. I should, uh, I should clean up since you’re here.”
Tyler tripped over to the counter and started collecting the trash, but nervously, like I was there to conduct a home health assessment.
I focused on what he was doing and saw him sweep a small plastic baggie with a trace of powder left in it and a cut-off straw beneath a candy wrapper and then throw it in the trash. My heart sank.
There was no question, Tyler was using again.
“Hey, lemme help,” Jerry said.
He picked up a single dirty napkin from the counter and threw it in the trash, then bent over to rifle through the can.
“Oh, my bad, I wrote a phone number on that napkin, gotta grab it,” he said, going deeper into the garbage can. I watched him palm the plastic baggie and slip it in his pocket.
Everything swam into focus. Yeah, Tyler was using again, and Jerry was his connection. It was the absolute last thing I needed to have to deal with on an already shitty day.
“What’d you just put in your pocket?” I asked Jerry, working hard to keep my voice even.
“Huh?” His eyes darted between me and Tyler. “I told you, a napkin, buddy. Phone number. A pretty lady I met last night.” He smiled and revealed a missing lower tooth.
“Can I see it?”
“Why?” Jerry backed a few steps away from me.
I stood up and walked closer to him, forcing him into the corner.
“Empty your pockets,” I said.
I glanced down and saw that the corner of the baggie was sticking out of his pocket. I snagged it and held it up in front of his face. I looked over at Tyler to find him staring at the floor.
“What is this?”
“Trash, I dunno,” Jerry squeaked out. “I have no idea how it got in there!”
“You’re a piece of shit, you know that?” I growled at him. “Get the fuck out of here. And if I see you anywhere near Tyler again, you’re going to regret it.”
“What are you talking about?” Jerry whined. He looked over at Tyler with desperate eyes. “Ty, c’mon.”
Tyler shrugged and stepped out of the room without looking at either of us.
“Out!” I screamed in Jerry’s face.
“For fuck’s sake, okay,” he whined, hunching away from me. “You’re not Tyler’s babysitter, you know? He can do what he wants.”
“I might not be his babysitter, but I am his friend. Unlike you.”
The door slammed behind him. I went in search of Tyler, finding him perched on the edge of his couch, like he was ready to jump up and run out of the room if I pushed him too hard.
I was furious, but also gutted because I’d wanted so badly to believe Tyler was past all of this. But apparently, getting caught up in Felicity wasn’t the only way I’d been fooling myself.
“Why?” It was all I could muster up, because if I said anything else I might regret it.
“It’s stupid.” Tyler dropped his head into his hands. “He’s my last connection to her.”
I sighed when I figured out what he meant. “You’re hanging around that loser because he reminds you of being with Roxanne?”
“Yeah,” Tyler yelled back at me, his body going tense.
“I am! All I have left of that time is memories, and being with Jerry brings it back. We can laugh about the good times, how much fun we had. For a little while I can forget about what a pile of shit my life is now. No career, no Roxanne…yeah, I need help to feel good these days, and Jerry makes that happen for me.”
“Jerry’s drugs make that happen,” I corrected angrily.
“And?”
My jaw clenched as we stared at each other.
“Just leave,” Tyler said in a defeated voice as he sank back against the couch. “I know you’re disgusted with me, so get out of here. I’m not in the mood for one of your lectures.”
I shook my head angrily. “Fuck that. I’m staying to clean up, and to force you to take a break. You look like you haven’t slept in days.”
“Whatever.”
I got up and started cleaning the trash from around the place, keeping an eye on Tyler. He seemed exhausted, and I watched the tension slowly leave his body. Before long, he’d collapsed on his side, fast asleep.
It didn’t matter that I was wearing a five-thousand-dollar suit.
I took off my blazer, rolled up my sleeves, and got down on my hands and knees to clean up the grime from his floor.
I stacked up his mail, scrubbed down his counters, and tossed out the spoiled food in his refrigerator.
It felt like therapy for me because staying busy kept me from thinking about the state of my own life.
I had a job to do with an identifiable endpoint: when Tyler’s trashed apartment started to look presentable again.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had to clean anything, and I was surprised to discover the hands-on work felt good.
I could only hope that when he woke up maybe he’d see his tidy place and decide his world could use an overhaul as well.
After about an hour, I admitted to myself that I was procrastinating.
The place looked better than it had in ages, Tyler was sleeping off his high, and there was nothing more I could do for him in the moment.
I set up a food delivery of chicken soup and crusty bread from Jean-Georges for a few hours later and left, reluctantly.
On the way back to my place, I stupidly checked the Veritique alerts and felt my blood pressure rise. Just when things were on a good track, I had to go and blow up. It was going to take a while before things evened out again.
I assumed we’d take care of the PR crisis somehow, but the Felicity aspect?
There was no coming back from that. The way she looked at me as I ended things nearly made me change my mind.
But, of course, I didn’t, because there was no way we could’ve made our relationship work out long term.
Between my history and Tyler’s, I had more than enough proof that relationships were doomed to end in disaster.