Chapter 4 #3
Charlie stands upright and stretches his hamstring. “Thought I’d drop in for a chat, villainous ladies. Better?”
Olivia grins at him. “Better.”
How about that? Charlie’s actually being a good sport. Probably a legal tactic to throw me off his shady scent. Then again, all his interactions with Olivia have been positive so far. He seems like a natural with kids. I bet he’d make a great dad.
Ugh. My ovaries have entered the chat.
I quickly shut them out of the conversation and return to reality.
Charlie’s hands are on his hips. “What else do heroes do? Is there a cat that needs saving from a tree?”
“Those are emergency rescue workers,” Gloria says.
“I know, but aren’t they heroes too?”
“Darn right they are,” John agrees.
“Last year we filmed training montages,” Bradley reminds me.
Ben smiles. “Yes, we did. I added the Rocky theme song to mine.”
Charlie appears uneasy. “I’m not up for a video.”
I sense his tension and decide to poke. “Why not? Afraid it’ll make the rounds at the office?”
“The Internet is forever,” he says.
“I didn’t post mine anywhere,” Ben objects. “It was for my own enjoyment.”
Charlie chuckles. “You’ve never helped a client recover a sex tape and it shows.”
“You’ve actually done that?” I ask in a low voice.
“It isn’t my specialty, but when you have an important client, and that important client has a daughter…” He shrugs. “I was glad I could help.”
“But you said the Internet is forever. How did you help?”
“We were able to recover the video before the ex-boyfriend managed to do anything with it.”
Angela edges closer to him. “And might you have a copy of said video?”
Ben clears his throat. “We have a minor present.”
“A minor who’s worked up an appetite,” Olivia adds. “Can we eat now?”
I gesture to the main area. “The cafeteria is open. First come, first served.”
Charlie taps the brim of Adam’s mask. “Don’t you get hot in there, buddy?”
“Sweltering, but some of us must suffer for our art.”
“Make sure you stay hydrated. It’d be too easy to pass out in this heat.”
“I have electrolyte powder packets in my cabin, but I appreciate your concern.”
“Just looking out for the little folks.” He stops to give me a pointed look. “Like a hero would do.”
Either Charlie’s a great actor, or he actually had fun today. Is it wrong to hope it’s the latter?
He falls in step beside me as we follow the hungry mob.
“How’d I do?” Charlie asks.
“You can tie me up anytime,” Angela interrupts as she passes us.
“I believe the hero does the untying,” Charlie corrects her.
She keeps walking without turning around. “I said what I said.”
“Is she always like that?” Charlie asks.
“Yep.”
Charlie sniffs the air as we enter the building. “Do I smell hot dogs?”
“You do, indeed. It’s a camp staple.”
“As it should be.” He peels his T-shirt away from his chest. “I should change my damp clothes first.”
“Probably a good idea.”
“Save your hero a seat?”
“I would use the term loosely. Superman wouldn’t dream of stopping to take off his boots before entering the water.”
He holds up the loafers. “That’s because Superman doesn’t pay Gucci prices.
I’ll meet you inside.” He veers off toward his cabin, and I linger outside the cafeteria to make sure he doesn’t double back toward my office.
I have no idea what he thinks he might find there, but it’s the only place I can think he’d want to snoop other than my house, which would be too difficult to manage.
It isn’t far, but it’s far enough that he’d have a hard time explaining his absence.
I fill my plate with a hotdog slathered in mustard, corn on the cob that will undoubtedly get caught between my teeth, and a small salad drenched in a packet of bleu cheese dressing.
“We’re living the dream,” Gloria says as she bites into her hotdog.
Charlie sets his tray down beside mine. “You saved me a seat.”
“You told me to.”
“I know, but I didn’t expect you to actually do it.” His plate has two hotdogs, two cobs of corn, and a pile of salad without dressing. “My compliments to the chef.”
I gesture toward the kitchen. “Bernie takes care of the food. She’s a treasure. She’s been working here since my grandparents owned the place.”
“How old is she?” Charlie asks.
I spear lettuce onto my fork. “Nobody knows.”
“And nobody here is gauche enough to ask a woman her age,” Angela says pointedly.
A mischievous twinkle forms in Gloria’s eye. “We are, however, gauche enough to share that Angela is on the hunt for a fourth husband.”
“Some people collect Pokémon trading cards. Angela collects husbands,” I add.
Angela guffaws. “Think of them more as replacements for ones that are broken or lost.”
“Have you identified any potential replacements?” Charlie asks.
Angela glances casually around the room. “Herb is currently at the top of my list.”
Charlie cranes his neck. “Which one is Herb?”
“The man in the Hawaiian shirt.”
Charlie pulls a face. “That guy? Seriously?”
Angela takes a dainty sip of her water. “Why not? I prefer men the way I prefer my snatch—bald and stuffed with sausage.”
Charlie nearly chokes on his water. He sputters droplets all over the table.
“You don’t strike me as a prude, Charles,” she says.
“I’m not. I wasn’t expecting that answer. You do you, Angela, or I guess you do him. I think it’s great.” His eyes shift to me as he tries to telegraph his shock.
“Ooh. I see an opening.” Angela rises to her feet. “I’ll catch up with you later.” She’s drawn to Herb like a heat-seeking missile, or like she has a glass of tonic water and he’s a bottle of gin.
“I didn’t understand why a woman like Angela would come to a place like this until now. Camp is the ideal hunting ground for her.”
“It’s best not to date other campers,” I say.
“Oh? Why is that?”
“Because it ruins the vibe for everybody when the relationship inevitably ends.” I gnaw on the corncob and push the intrusive thoughts from my mind. This is my happy place, and I refuse to give it up, not for the Prick, not for LandStar.
Not for anybody.
Man, I really wanted to nail that hero activity, if only to show Courtney that I don’t need lessons on heroism. I’m perfectly capable of putting others’ needs ahead of my own. Stupid expensive shoes.
I remove the shoes in question and jump in the shower.
I should’ve done this straight after my unexpected dip in the lake, but I didn’t want to miss the conversation in the cafeteria.
Sometimes people let details drop that could be useful in my ‘investigation.’ Thankfully I only have one message from work and it’s from Jeannie asking me to send pics.
Unlike everyone else at my office, she means actual pretty pictures of the lakeside setting and not evidence to use against Courtney and the camp.
This isn’t a vacation though. My entire future is riding on what I accomplish here these next two weeks.
I check the schedule for the evening’s activities. S’mores at the main firepit are happening in ten minutes. Everybody loves s’mores. It could be the ideal opportunity to sneak into the office and search for information. While everybody else is busy getting their fingers sticky, I’ll be using mine.
Despite the late hour, there are remnants of daylight, so I forgo the flashlight I packed and saunter toward the office trying to appear casual. As I round the corner of a cabin, I spot Courtney outside the office door, chatting to a couple campers I haven’t met yet.
I’ll have to try the office another time.
It won’t be easy. There always seems to be someone lurking in the area.
Courtney is too popular with her campers.
They aren’t content with her joining in their fun and games; they want to be around her twenty-four seven, which makes my job more difficult.
Maybe I should schedule an ice cream truck.
There’d be a line a mile long and nobody would venture far with a melting ice cream cone.
That would give me plenty of time to root through the files.
Could I expense an ice cream truck? At this point, I’m fairly confident my client will pay for an entire ice cream company if it means getting his grubby hands on the land.
I have to admit, I’m beginning to admire her moxie.
Nobody says no to James Riggieri. Even the partners at the law firm are loath to tell him he can’t do something, which is how I ended up with this assignment in the first place.
If it goes to shit, they can point the finger at the senior associate, nothing to do with them.
If I fail, I’ll be out of a partnership and a job. Not loving those stakes.
Suddenly Courtney’s moxie seems less admirable and more frustrating. It would be bad enough to lose out on the partnership, but to lose my job…
I’ve never been fired before. I can only imagine how that would go over at my parents’ anniversary party in August. Knowing my parents, they’d disinvite me to avoid the shame of their less-than-superhuman eldest child.
I suspect that’s part of the reason they’re riding me so hard about this promotion.
They don’t want it for me; they simply want to brag to their friends about yet another Thorpe accomplishment.
So far, I’m the dud. If they can claim the youngest partner in my firm’s history, then they’ll feel like they haven’t failed as parents.
“Hey, the melting marshmallows are over yonder,” Courtney says when she spots me. The other two campers make themselves scarce at the mention of marshmallows.
I freeze like a deer in headlights. “Me?”
She strolls toward me. “Not a s’mores fan?”
“I’m not a dessert person in general.”
“Wow. That’s a tragedy of epic proportions. What kind of monster doesn’t like dessert?”
“I thought this is supposed to be a judgment-free zone.”
“Not when it comes to your lack of a sweet tooth. We are all free to judge the shit out of you for that.” She glances toward the orange glow in the distance. “You said you play baseball. How’s your throwing arm?”