Chapter 13 #2
“Hey, Ads!” he calls out, leaning over dramatically as I approach. “I was starting to think you’d abandoned me. Imagine the tragedy of me enduring Shakespeare’s sonnets all alone.”
A small smile tugs at my lips. “Oh, really? And here I thought you were looking forward to it. Also, I think Shakespeare might have appreciated a little less criticism from the living.”
He sighs so passionately it actually makes me slightly jolt. “Addie you’re right. Disrespecting the dead and their work really is not a good look for me.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Apologies to Shakespeare, then. I’m sure he’s rolling in his grave.”
Ajax’s expression turns exaggeratedly serious, his gaze lifting skyward, “Dear Mr. Shakespeare, we humbly apologize for our disrespect to your sonnets and, well, most of your work. We promise to show them the respect they deserve. And, if it’s any consolation, we’ll try not to fall asleep during our analysis sessions,” he says to… the sky?
“I feel like you’re still disrespecting Shakespeare here,” I point out, barely holding back a grin.
He winks. “You know, Addie, Shakespeare was a great, wise man. But couldn’t he have written in a way that didn’t require us to Google every other word?” “
I chuckle. “Sometimes.”
He groans dramatically, leaning back in his chair. “I need a nap. This class hasn’t even started, and I’m already finished.”
“Sleep when you get home,” I say.
“Nuh-uh. I can’t. I have this gathering tonight with my parents. You know, the annual one,” he manages through a yawn.
Rich people problems.
“What is it? I’ve never heard of it.” I raise an eyebrow. Funny how he expects me to be aware of this kind of thing.
Ajax sighs heavily. “It’s like this big show-off event where celebrities and their extravagant kids flaunt their money and fame or whatever. It’s the most boring thing ever, but my parents make me go every damn year.”
“That sounds… delightful.”
Ajax rolls his eyes. “Oh, yes, absolutely riveting. You can only imagine the excitement of watching people parade around in designer outfits while we engage in polite small talk and sip sparkling water.”
I laugh. “Make sure you get their autographs for me.”
***
Later, I hurry into the café, determined not to ruin my streak of being on time. Rick greets me with a raised eyebrow, glancing at his watch. “Every day this week, Addie. Impressive.”
I offer a sheepish smile. “Hi, Rick.” But just as I open my mouth to say more, he waves his hand at me dismissively. “No need for any details,” he says.
Understandable.
Scanning the café, my eyes land on Camille, who looks particularly lovely and dressed up. There’s an extra glow about her today, with something I quickly recognize as excitement. Curiosity bubbles up as I make my way over. “What’s the occasion?”
Her smile widens, her excitement contagious. “I’m waitressing at this fancy event tonight. And guess what? Celebrities are going to be there!”
Recognition sparks. This must be the same event Ajax had mentioned. “That’s amazing, Cami! You’re going to do great.”
“Oh, I’m so prepared, Addie,” she gushes, “I’ve practised balancing trays, perfected my serving skills, and I even have the address of the venue in my notes, so I won’t forget a thing. And my phone is ready for photos. I’ve already made space for all the pictures I’m going to take.”
“You’re going to crush it,” I say, meaning every word.
She glances at the time. “I have to go get my coat!” she exclaims, rushing off. And I take my place among the tables, ready to serve as usual.
Camille better send photos.
I wave her goodbye one more time before she hurriedly makes her way out.
***
As I hurriedly wait tables, my eyes catch sight of Camille’s phone, innocently sitting on the counter. Panic immediately grips my heart—she can’t be without it—how will she get the photos she’s so excited about? Or get home? It’s simply a catastrophe waiting to happen.
Reluctantly, I approach the counter and pick up the phone.
I hesitate for a moment, contemplating the invasion of privacy I’m about to commit.
Is this a crime? Oh well if it is, I eventually decide.
I tap the screen and put in the password.
The lock code is easy enough—her birthday. Camille isn’t exactly subtle.
Scrolling through her notes, I quickly find her system of organization: “Not important”, “Kinda important”, “Important”, and, finally, “Mega important”. I can’t help but grin.
With trembling fingers, I tap on the “Mega important” note. The screen changes and relief washes over me as the address appears before my eyes. Clutching the precious information, I race back to the café counter, my heart pounding in my chest, where Rick is already watching me with a knowing smile.
Breathless, I approach Rick, attempting to explain the situation. “Rick, Camille forgot her phone, and she really needs it, and—”
“She forgot it?”
I nod, breathless. “She needs it. I have to—”
He holds up a hand, cutting off my rambling. “I get it. Go ahead. But before you run…”
He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a few notes and handing them to me. “Take a cab.”
Caught off guard, I stammer, “I—Rick, I can’t—”
“You weren’t planning to sprint there in those shoes, were you?”
Can’t say I wasn’t…
“Take it,” he insists. “You can pay me back later.”
With a grateful smile, I take the cash and dash out the door, Camille’s phone in hand.