A Wicked Beginning (25 page)

It was James’ idea to meet at this coffee shop. “You’ll feel more relaxed there, Cameron,” he had said, smiling. “There won’t be a therapeutic vibe.”

As Cam strode into the coffee shop, he spotted James in a corner booth. Reaching out to shake his mentor’s hand, he said, “Hello, James.”

“Hello, Cameron. Sit, please.” He gestured at the seat across the table.

Cam slid into the booth.

“I saw you parking out front so I ordered you a coffee. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, that’s great, James. Thank you.”

“How’s it been going, Cameron? How’s the cat’s eye working for you? Or, are you even using it?”

Cam brightened. “It’s going great – the cat’s eye has become my lucky talisman. I’ve used it a couple of times with good results.”

“That’s excellent. Good to hear. I’m also curious how things are going with the star dreamling you told me about. Any progress?”

“It’s hard to say, James. I’ve been pretty beat up by the beast…” He held up his palm as evidence. “…but my roommate and I are looking into an idea that may prove fruitful.”

“That looks like a nasty set of blisters.”

“That’s nothing compared to my back. But I’m coping.” Cam looked out the window at the cars traveling down the street. It felt so odd to be talking to James about this stuff. It was like talking to the postman about the alien living in your bedroom in a matter of fact, newsy kind of way.

“You’re a strong man, Cameron. I’m certain that you’ll find a solution. But now let’s get to the reason we are here.” James reached in his briefcase and pulled out a booklet, a brochure, and a folder full of papers. “Here is some literature about the Teen Wilderness Camp. And this…” he handed Cam the folder full of papers. “…this is paperwork you will need to fill out and return to Mark Myers, the head of the program. The week you’ll be attending starts Friday. It runs Friday to Friday over in the Olympics near Hurricane Ridge.”

“Huh,” Cam said, thinking of all that had just gone down at Hurricane Ridge.

“You know of the place?”

“Uh, yeah, I was just out there.” He picked up his coffee and took a sip. Then he picked up a brochure, looking at it without seeing any of the words.

“It’s a beautiful place. This time of year, there’s still some snow up high. But there’s a camp site with cabins that will provide the base for your kids. You’ll sit through some counseling sessions, participate in wilderness excursions, and just generally follow Mark’s lead. I’m sure, given your experience, you’ll get to run with a few things on your own with Mark there as backup. Cameron…? Are you listening?”

“Uh, yeah, sorry, I was just lost in thought. Okay, so, I fill out this paperwork; take it over to Mark Myers…where will I find him?”

James handed Cam a business card. “He’s over near the arboretum, about 20 minutes away. If you can do this today, that would be great. He’s there until 6:30 or so. He’s expecting you.”

Cam glanced down at his watch. It was only 2:30. “Alright, James, thanks. I really appreciate you setting this up for me. Sorry I’m a little preoccupied today.”

The waitress stopped by to top off their coffees. “You have more going on than most people,” James remarked, pouring milk into his cup. He picked up a spoon and stirred thoughtfully before taking a sip. “You’re just renewing your relationship with Chérie, plus you are dealing with the supernatural. Most people couldn’t cope. How’s it going with Chérie?”

“Fucking awesome,” Cam blurted out. He gave James a sheepish look. “I mean, it’s going great…really good. We’re working stuff out, dealing with things together, enjoying the things we love. It’s better than I could have imagined.”
Not to mention the out of this world sex part.

James gave an easy laugh. “I’m happy to hear that, Cameron. I always thought she looked like a delightful young woman.” The two men sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, drinking their java. Then James patted the brochure lying on the table. “I think this will be a good fit for you, Cam. From what I know, you love the great outdoors; plus, you have the history and you’re working on the healing to be able to relate to troubled youth. Just see what you think.”

“Okay, James, I’ll have a go.” He rubbed his jaw. “Thanks for all the support, James. I mean it.”

James looked Cam in the eye. “It’s my pleasure, Cameron. I believe in you.”

“Well, thanks.” Cam looked away and quickly swiped his eyes.
Why the fuck were his eyes tearing up? Was this what happened when you became vulnerable? Someone you admire gives you a compliment and you start to fucking weep? He was seriously going to have to reconsider allowing himself to be vulnerable. But then there was the great sex… Shit.
He looked back at James who continued to gaze at him softly.

“You’re a good man,” James said.

“Huh.” Cam reached for his wallet and pulled out a few dollars. He set them on top of the bill the waitress had left. “Let me get this, James.”

James looked at him thoughtfully. “Anything else going on, Cameron? I know this isn’t supposed to be therapy today, but…”

“Well, yeah…” Cam looked out the window again. He took another sip of the coffee, now cold. “I remembered something…when I was up at the Ridge…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “…about my father. I’m not really, uh…not really comfortable talking about it in here. But it was rough.” He picked up the brochure, glanced at it, and put it back down.

“I have an opening today. My 4:00 cancelled. You can talk to me about it if you like.”

Cam considered. “Not sure it will do any good. It won’t change anything in my past.”

James looked thoughtful. “No, Cameron, it won’t change a thing in your past. But it might change something in your present. When we’re children and terrible things happen to us, we’re not mature enough to know how to deal with them. We feel them, however, but we don’t know what to do with our feelings. So, they get stuck inside of us, causing us to act unconsciously. But you know this already. You even spoke about it with the men in group last year. Only now you are the one dealing with your own past, not observing another’s.”

Cam looked down at the brochure again. On the cover was a youth, about 14 or 15, who had a hardened look on his face. His eyes were ringed with dark circles and there was a scowl on his face. There was another picture of the same kid, brushing out a horse at the camp, looking youthful and alive. “See what a difference the Teen Wilderness Camp can make in your child,” the brochure read. Cam scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, alright. I’ll swing by at four. What can it hurt?”

James stood up to leave. “Alright, Cameron, I’ll see you in a little while.”

Chapter 24 – Jayze

Jayze stood in the center of her studio, hands on her hips, studying the piece before her. Her blond hair had clumps of clay here and there, and there were clay streaks covering her cheeks and arms. She was working on the lynx piece and found it fascinating. To Jayze, art was such a wondrous process of dream and manifest: ideas sparked in the mind, then cooked in the mind and then, when the time was right, the physical build began. The build always had its own agenda. She found she had to surrender, listen, and yield to the impulses in her head. It was like the pieces sculpted themselves sometimes. She was just a conduit. Often, she was as surprised as anyone at what revealed itself. This piece was like that only more so. She found herself talking to this piece, coaxing it out, encouraging it out. She sometimes felt like a midwife must feel bringing a babe into the world. “Come on, don’t be scared,” she said softly to the huge lump of moist sculpted earth.

She began moving in a circle around the clay. The legs of the beast were powerful and strong, poised in a leap. The enormous paws appeared soft and strong, like the claws could shred you into fibers but if you had the presence of mind to feel the softness of the fur, you’d think, “What a soft paw!”
As you were dying…right,
she
thought. The body was lithe and muscular. It was the face that was a challenge. When she looked at it from the right, it was snarling in fear. There was a hysterical look to the right eye. When she looked at it from the left, it was snarling in triumph, like the beast had mastered some ginormous challenge. “Well, which one is it, are you frightened or exultant?” she asked the clay beast. “Not sure yet?”

As she slowly moved around the sculpture, eyeing it from this angle and that, she thought about the dinner at Mano’s. That Cam guy, now he was an interesting dude. The guy seemed to be going through a metamorphous of some kind. She had inherited some of “the sight” from her grandmother, and she could “see” a split in him, like he was moving from one reality to the next, not quite sure of where to place his foot. And Chérie…Jayze remembered her from the climbing gym. She always seemed like a nice woman, nothing much to her, sort of like non-fat milk. But at the dinner party, Jayze could see that she had already undergone the transformation that Cam was in the midst of – she was one potent woman. There was something deeply mysterious about her. Like she was in this world, but did not live here. It was a trip. And the two of them together…the two looked like a matched set of bookends. Or, more like two complementary pieces of art: when standing on their own they were interesting; when they were placed in juxtaposition to one another, magnificence was revealed.

Wiping her hands off on a towel she kept tucked into her waistband, Jayze stopped pacing and went over and sat down on the patio chair in the corner. A sturdy, wide wrought iron chair with colorful orange and gold cushions, it was her favorite think spot. She rested her right elbow on her left hand and rubbed her cheek, deep in thought. The guy – Cam – had to factor into the sculpture somewhere. And Chérie, she played a part too. Jayze rested her arms on the wrought iron chair arms and closed her eyes. Her contemplation was interrupted by the loud clanging of the metal door to the studio being flung open. “Hey, Marilyn,” she said wearily, not bothering to open her eyes.

“I brought you some lunch,” Marilyn hissed.

Jayze opened her eyes and gave Marilyn a tired smile. “Thanks.”

Marilyn stalked over and thrust a sandwich at Jayze. “Here.”

“Mmmm, turkey, lettuce, and barbed wire…my favorite,” Jayze quipped. “Want to try being a little softer?”

Marilyn scowled and crouched down next to Jayze. She fingered one of her lip piercings, then grabbed a lock of hair and began twirling it in her fingers. “When are you going to be done here?” she demanded.

“And I miss you too, Marilyn.”

“Well, when?”

Jayze gave her a pointed look. “Marilyn, what is going on? You know I work as long as I work on my studio days.”

“You don’t really work, Jayze, you play. I have to sit in an office day after day to make enough money so we can survive.”

Jayze frowned. “I make money, too. And if you hate your job so much, get another.”

Marilyn chewed on her lock of hair. It was a habit that Jayze loathed. “I can’t just up and quit.”

“You can…” Jayze began. She reached out to put a hand on Marilyn’s shoulder.

Marilyn slapped it away. “Can’t…we wouldn’t make it if my paycheck wasn’t coming in.”

Jayze felt familiar tears stinging her eyes. Maybe Mano was right. What did she see in this snarly woman after all? “I made it before, when you weren’t here. So why do you think we wouldn’t make it now, if you quit and started looking for another job?”

Marilyn just scowled at her, her face a mask of harsh lines. Then she turned her piercing blue eyes in the direction of the piece of art. “That’s coming along…” she admitted. “It’s…it’s…nice.”

“Nice is what you say when you can’t think of anything nice to say.” Jayze took a bite of the sandwich. “Am I going to die if I eat this?”

“What do you think?” Marilyn snapped.

“I think you are in a twist about something and rather than tell me what it is, you come in here and try to pick a fight, that’s what. Care to get to the point of things here?”

Marilyn blew out her breath sharply. “I miss you, that’s all.”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” Jayze quipped, chewing a mouthful of sandwich. “Thanks for bringing me lunch. I always forget about eating.”

Marilyn gave her a sidelong glance. “You’re welcome.” Then she stood up, faced Jayze, and sat in her lap, putting one leg on either side of her. Taking the sandwich out of Jayze’ grasp, she dropped it to the floor and kissed her, hard.

Jayze couldn’t help but feel aroused. This was why she was with Marilyn. It was for the sex, nothing more. She yielded to the rough kiss and put her hands around Marilyn’s neck. Marilyn reached around and grabbed one hand, then the other, placing them on the arms of the chair.
Oh, right, Marilyn wants to be in control, all the time.
She yielded to the control, like she usually did, becoming Marilyn’s good little submissive partner. Then a funny thing happened. Her eyes flicked to the left, and she glanced over at the lynx sculpture. It seemed to be looking back at her. She did a double take in her mind. Marilyn had released Jayze’ face and proceeded to pull at her drawstring pants. Jayze sat transfixed by the earthen beast, ignoring Marilyn’s insistent fingers. She thought it was mocking her, chiding and challenging her for the choices she was making. She pushed Marilyn’s hands away. “Stop it,” she said, still staring at her clay creation.