Chapter 17 Cam W — Conspiracies
Oft expectation fails, and most oft there where most it promises
All’s Well That Ends Well, William Shakespeare
Miranda had been gone for two weeks, and I found myself spending a great deal of time at Damon’s and Cordy’s.
I felt close to her there, even though she was miles away from me.
She’d kept her promise, updating her Insta regularly.
Her last picture had me touching the screen.
She was standing with an old man. Both were smiling and holding up some kind of bread. She seemed happy, truly alive.
“Cordy, I’m not telling you what to do. I’m just reminding you that you’re not good at this. You’re going to get yourself in trouble.” Damon was trying to convince Cordy to stop trying to prank Bad Cam.
“She never protects herself. She went all out for me, so I’m repaying the favor.”
“Yes, but she doesn’t want contact with Cam.
If you push yourself into his life, even to annoy him, he’ll take that as a sign.
And Cordy, you’re shit at it.” Damon loved Cordy, but she was really trying his patience lately.
She’d been caught in a private car park trying to shove a huge potato up Cam’s exhaust pipe.
An old lady had called the police, who came and let her off with a warning.
Cam was more annoyed by the fact that she took a stupidly large potato that would never have fit in an exhaust pipe than he was with her master plan.
He was right. Cordy was terrible at this.
I agreed Bad Cam needed some karma, but it should be sophisticated.
Her attempts to throw a water balloon at him as he left work had failed equally as miserably as the potato plan.
Damon said she completely missed him, the balloon breaking against the shop window.
Bad Cam had stared at her with a puzzled expression, and she’d shouted “Hah! Take that!” and run off, throwing herself into the backseat of the car, yelling “Drive!” Damon was the getaway driver, not that he knew of the plan, and said the second-hand embarrassment had almost killed him.
Damon’s phone began ringing. “Shit, fucking Ben! I gotta take this.” He left the room looking irritated.
“Cordy, you need to refine your plans. I am all for some kind of punishment for Cam but think less like a 10-year-old and more like Miranda.”
“What do you suggest, oh wise one?” She had a hand on her hip, but she looked intrigued.
“I suggest some apps. It wouldn’t take me long to develop some simple apps. We could upload them, hide the icons, and let nature take its course.”
“I love it!” She clapped her hands together. “But how can I get them on his phone?”
“You ask him to come around here to talk. Apologize to him or something, just drag it out long enough for me to upload a few apps. Somehow get him to unlock his phone and leave it on the counter, unless you know his code?”
She shook his head. “No, and I’m not asking Miranda. She just wants him gone.”
“Okay, so invite him over to your house. I’ll conveniently be there. Ask him to check the weather or something, then pull him to the backyard to ‘talk’ in private and hope like hell that he leaves his phone on the counter.”
“The weather? That’s a stupid idea. You’re such a man, Cam. I’ll think of something that will actually work.”
Damon came back in. “That guy is a dickhead. I’m gonna have to sack him, I just know it.”
“That’s sad,” Cordy said with a smile. We shared a conspiratorial look. We’d tell Damon after the fact. He was too sensible for this.