Chapter One. The Smoking Gun #2
“I’m more upset about those than anything else.
” A smile cracked her tearstained cheeks the moment she noticed his laughter.
“For a while, I wandered around. Had breakfast at a local diner, browsed stores I can’t afford, called my parents crying—the usual.
But eventually, my feet were killing me, and I’d gone from shocked, to sad, to angry, so I… ”
He glanced sideways. “You’ve got me on the edge of my seat.”
Despite the circulating air-conditioning, she was uncomfortably warm.
At least the red glow of her face meant color was returning to her skin.
“Like I said, I was angry. Not just about being fired but about … everything. I felt like I was being punished for following the rules. For doing what everyone told me to do. I went to college, even though it put me in insane debt. For years, I spent five days a week in cubicles being underpaid by corporations, even though the work makes me miserable. And … I don’t know.
I wanted revenge or something. So … I did the one legal thing people tell us not to do. ”
“Which is?”
“I bought a pack of cigarettes.”
He gasped, clutching his chest. “Camille! I’m outraged.”
“Save your breath. I never got that far.” She closed her eyes, lips curling as she recalled the disastrous moments leading up to her arrest. “I get the cigarettes, find a park bench, and prepare to light one. Except I realize I didn’t buy a lighter.
And at that point, I was in too deep. I remembered an old pack of matches I had from a local bar, so… ”
Beside her, Danny vibrated with laughter, shoulders shaking. She wanted to be annoyed, but she laughed too.
“I put the cigarette in my mouth and lit a match,” she continued. “But before I lit the cigarette, a cop came by and told me it was a smoke-free zone. Which, to be fair, the sign was hidden by a tree! I panicked, and the match was getting hot, so I…”
“I don’t like where this is going.”
“I lived it. Now it’s your turn. I somehow managed to drop the match directly onto a hot dog wrapper and it caught fire.”
Danny whistled. “For future reference, coming from an experienced burnout, that’s not what we mean by lighting up.”
“Very funny. What happened next felt like bad improv. I panicked, got into a grabbing match with some lady over her drink because I wanted to put the fire out. But that drink landed all over the cop. And after he stomped out the fire, we started arguing and … I could’ve let it go. I could’ve walked away.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Nope. I opened my big mouth. He was treating me like an idiot and with my shitty mood, I couldn’t handle it. I accused him of targeting me to fill a quota, and then I may have told him I could recommend a donut shop if he needed a midday pick-me-up.”
“Camille! You’re incredible.”
“Except I still could’ve walked away. Instead, when he warned me again, I told him to stop talking down to me like a patronizing dickhead. And that it was a shame the fire didn’t ruin his ugly shoes, and if I had better aim with another match, I could fix my mistake.”
Danny winced.
“Unsurprisingly, he arrested me. Claimed I was disturbing the peace.”
“Will you need to go to trial?”
“No.” After explaining the post-and-forfeit procedure, she added, “Supposedly I can get my arrest record sealed in a couple of years, but … I can’t think about that right now. My brain feels like legitimate mush.”
“I’m sorry, Cam. But…” He threw her a lazy grin. “Look at you. Your first misdemeanor. I’m so proud.”
“I’m glad someone is. I didn’t even smoke the cigarette!”
His grin dimmed, and he reached a hand over the console, squeezing hers. “It was a trying day. Don’t beat yourself up.”
Staring at their hands, she whispered, “I’ve had nothing but trying days since September.”
That was when Cam switched archetypes. She went from the young professional in the big city to the lonely, broke twentysomething. It wasn’t an immediate change, but September created the seismic shift, and suddenly, the fractures became breaks.
That autumn marked the departure of Morgan Rossi, another best friend Cam could thank her college years for.
A shared sense of humor, a love of ’90s rom-coms, and an unhealthy interest in smoothies had built a friendship strong enough to support nearly seven years of living together.
But when Morgan enrolled in a two-year master’s program at the Copenhagen Business School, she left DC—and Cam—behind.
Since Morgan’s departure in September, the city had become a difficult place to navigate. Cam’s new apartment didn’t feel like home and without any of her friends around, she felt the loneliest she ever had. In her isolation, she spiraled, and every problem intensified.
Today’s developments—unemployment and an arrest record—weren’t even her most pressing concern. That honor went to the two weeks she had until her sublease ended and she’d have no choice but to move back to Delaware to live with her parents.
May was going swimmingly.
“I can’t believe you drove down from Rhode Island,” she continued.
“That’s what friends do.”
“I’m too tired for alcohol but … any chance that drink is still on the table?”
“It’s a standing offer and applies to your beverage of choice.”
“Good.” At the sight of the familiar cross street, she added, “We’re only a few minutes from my place. I’m starving and you must be exhausted from all the driving. Why don’t we find somewhere to park and grab dinner?”
Danny smiled, all boyish dimples. “Lead the way, Milly.”