Who Me? Cameron
Chapter eighteen
“G’morning, Ever. Let me get you a coffee. How do you like it?” I asked when he walked in the door at Books Beans and Buns, where I was leaning on the front counter.
“Coffee? That’s what you’re worried about?” He flicked his fingers at me.
“Wait. What’s wrong?”
His scowl would have stopped a rampaging elephant. “You know what’s wrong.”
“Let me get you a coffee and we can talk about it, because I do not, in fact, know what’s wrong.”
“You’d just love that, wouldn’t you? Always have to be the hero? Well, no. I don’t need you, Cameron. Just leave me alone.” He turned to Jackie, who was standing there, wide-eyed, behind the counter. “I’m looking for Moron’s Guide to Marketing Strategy. Do you have it?”
“Uh, good question. Let me look.” Jackie searched on the business laptop, but I didn’t like where this was going. Where was his antagonism coming from?
“Ever? Please talk to me and tell me what’s wrong.”
“You,” he poked his finger into my chest, “are sabotaging my business. So that I will think I need you. Like I need your help when I do not. That. Is. Gaslighting. I’m not falling for it.”
Jackie coughed and his face turned red hearing that.
“I’m not. I want you to be successful, Ever.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Why would I sabotage you? That’s not in my makeup.”
“He’s right, you know.” Jackie leaned over the counter, the search for Everett’s book forgotten. “He helps everyone around here. If you need something fixed, freaking call Cam.”
“That’s just it. You need people to need you. Well, I don’t. So, leave me alone. The book?”
His voice got louder, and taking a glance around the store, I could tell people were tuning in. “Can we go outside and talk about this?”
“Go.” Jackie gestured to the door. “I’ll have the book delivered.”
“You don’t know where I live.”
I’d had enough of his attitude, and that was saying a lot for me.
Hell, I never got mad about anything. I was the most patient guy in the world.
“You live at the brewery, Everett. He’ll send it there.
” Everyone knew where he lived by now, even if he didn’t realize it, but I couldn’t help being a tad snarky after all of the vitriol he was throwing my way.
“Please, come with me. Now.” I grabbed his elbow and steered him out the front door.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Everett shoved me as soon as we stepped on the sidewalk.
“You actually want me to need your help. You enjoy it. That’s your M.O.
, isn’t it? You’re the helper. You need everyone to need you so you can be the hero.
I’ve got your number, mister.” I couldn’t believe he was spouting all of that, particularly after I’d opened up to him about my sister and how I’d felt as a child.
It seemed like an illegal punch below the belt.
“Dude, you got me all wrong.” I stepped away from the door, not wanting to cause more of a scene.
“Don’t dude me.” He stormed off, leaving me wondering what the hell had happened.
“I can’t trust anybody,” he yelled, throwing his hands in the air, as he stomped down the sidewalk.
I thought we were on solid footing, then he just accused me of being controlling or something?
Is that what he meant? I wanted him to need me?
For what? I did like helping people, especially my friends and people I cared about, but he was taking it to the next level.
I was confused and didn’t know what the fuck to do about that.