"Stupid bastards," Mac muttered, his thoughts turning to the men who had betrayed Cameron, who had traded her like a favor, like a toy to be shared. Cameron had said that the boys who'd violated her trust had been people she knew well, an ex-boyfriend who'd been impatient with Cameron's innocence, and a friend of his who'd been abusing women for a long, long time.
That was the thing that bothered him. It wasn't that Cameron was kidnapped, drugged, raped, and branded with a tattoo, but that even that didn't make her feel special. It didn't make her feel singled out; it didn't make her feel targeted. It made her feel cheap, disposable. Insignificant. She wasn't alone even in the brutal ordeal that she'd suffered through; she was one of many. Jake, the ex-boyfriend, had walked in on one of Kevin's dirty rape games, and in exchange for Jake's silence, Kevin had taken Cameron's innocence, her trust, her belief in men and love.
It ate at Mac, knowing that Cameron had to walk around feeling ordinary. She'd told him everything the night she'd had her panic attack, the night she'd shown him the tattoo inked into the smooth flesh of her body. She'd cried, quietly pretending that she wasn't, as she'd explained the many women who'd taken the stand in court, the women who'd testified against Kevin about what had happened to them. The many women, all able to lift the left sides of their shirts and reveal the matching tattoos that made them each a part of Kevin's personal victim collection.
Mac found a bench and sat, twitching his feet through the weedy grass growing wild next to the river. Leaning back, he stretched his arm over the back of the bench and breathed in the scent of the water and the fresh air, the carrying smells of nature and the sounds of night settling in around him. And still the fury flowed through him.
He could still remember the shock on her face when he'd told her that the tattoo was kind of pretty, asking if she'd thought of covering it or changing it in some way, making it her own.
"What?!" she'd asked, crossing her arms under her breasts and turning to face him with fire in her eyes.
"Well, I just mean it isn't ugly to look at, much as the meaning behind it is ugly," he'd answered. "Maybe you could tweak it some, make it your own. Reclaiming the landscape, so to speak."
"Hmph," she'd grunted, retreating for a moment into her own thoughts. "That really hadn't occurred to me. It's not a bad idea." And they'd walked on.
Now he wondered if she would do it, if she would be able, emotionally, to lie flat on her back on a table, with a strange man leaning over her, the buzzing of the tattoo gun sounding off in the background. That in itself would be an ordeal for her, and with her PTSD, it could trigger another strike of panic; it could, conceivably, send her back - in her mind - to the day she'd lain helpless and paralyzed. It could be something that would strengthen her and help her to regain some sense of self-possession, or it could be just similar enough to her tragic past to break her completely.
"Stupid bastard," he muttered again, but this time, he was referring to himself. He certainly couldn't go to her, couldn't stop her from going to have the tattoo changed. He had no claim over her, no right to ask her not to do it. But had he unwittingly sent her on the path to an emotional breakdown? Groaning, he ran his fingers through his hair.
All he could do was wait, and be there, and hope that she was strong enough to stand under the weight of whatever she chose to do.
Still, her behavior during their date that night definitely indicated some emotional healing. It had to; a girl with her memories certainly wouldn't fall into trusting any man as fast as Cameron seemed to be trusting him, warming to him. The memory of her kiss rose up in his mind, his bottom lip tingling with the memory of her tongue, tentatively tasting his mouth.
It wasn't even the kiss, really, that had knocked him to his proverbial knees; he'd kissed her plenty of times before, gently, slowly growing more and more able to touch her without frightening her with his nearness. But she'd never initiated any intimate contact with him before, never reached for him on her own; she'd certainly never pressed the curves of her body tightly against his with her soft touch slowly skimming the planes of his chest and shoulders.
Remembering the way she'd clenched him with her thighs as they'd ridden together on his motorcycle, the way her fingertips had dug slightly into the muscles of his chest, he hardened, one hand going unconsciously to his chest, resting where her hands had rested.
"Damn, I am a damn mess," he muttered. He closed his eyes, willing his body back under his control; he tipped his head back, looking for the stars. Sighing, he reached into his jacket, feeling for the vibrating cell phone tucked into the pocket close to his chest.
"Hello?" he asked.
"Dad?"
"Logan, what are you still doing up? Gran didn't put you to bed yet?"
"No, we watched movies. Are you gonna be home soon, Dad?"
Mac sighed, a grin widening his mouth. He stood and started back toward his motorcycle. "I'm on my way, son ... love you, too. Bye."
***
I'm doing it. Oh my goodness, I'm doing it. I'm really doing it, Cameron thought, fighting back the excited nausea that rose up the back of her throat as she listened to the ringtone in her ear.
"Hello?" Tabitha asked, the musical ringing abruptly ending as she picked up the call.
"Still want to go with me?" Cameron asked, flipping the turn signal with the edge of her finger and taking a breath as she waited for the red light to change.
"Go with you? Go where?" Tabitha asked, answering the question with a question of her own as her voice took on a cautious tone.
"To the tattoo place," Cameron said, holding her breath as she waited to see what Tabitha would say.
"Oh my God, for real? Cameron? For real? You're gonna do it?!" Tabitha squealed.
"I'm gonna do it, but I have to do it now or I'll get scared and not go," Cameron laughed. "It's not far from your house, the place I'm using. You want to come with me? I can pick you up."
"Uh, yeah I’m totally coming! How long do I have before you get here?" A thud sounded in the background, Tabitha grunted, and then there was a louder thud. "Stupid freaking table," Tabitha muttered.
Cameron laughed. "It's not like I have an appointment. How 'bout you get dressed, and I'll be there in a few. When you're ready, come out and we'll go, silly. And I don't see why you don't get rid of that coffee table. You trip over it every time you walk by."
"I know," Tabitha groaned. "But we always had a coffee table, so now I feel like I'm supposed to have a coffee table. I know, it's stupid. Anyway, I gotta go get dressed. I'm still in my pajamas."
"Well, I'm turning onto your street, so just come out when you're done," Cameron answered, disconnecting the call and dropping her cell phone into the cup holder. Turning the radio up, she listened to a news report as she turned into the driveway and waited for Tabitha to come out. It wasn't a good distraction; when Tabitha came smiling through the front door of her house, Cameron was still trying to ignore the fact that she was about to go to a strange place and expose herself to what would likely be strange people.
"You ready to do this?" Tabitha asked, opening the car door and dropping into the passenger seat.
"I think so," Cameron muttered. "But I'm doing it, whether I'm ready or not. Mac was right when we talked, you know? And maybe he didn't say it outright, but he was kind of telling me that I need to reclaim myself. I was telling him about going to court, and all the other girls, the tattoos."
"I'm glad he seemed to get it. You need a man who can be understanding."
"I don't need a man at all!" Cameron exclaimed, laughing. "I'm getting a tattoo that says 'I am my own,' remember?"
"Still, doesn't every woman want a hero? Someone who can be there for her, and take care of her and be her protector? The old fashioned hero?"
Cameron smirked, the turn signal clicking madly as she drove out of Tabitha's neighborhood. "Other than my dad and my brothers? I don't know. I mean, I want that classic thing, that going to bed at night and curling up to someone's chest,
having his arms around me. Knowing that if I hear something in the yard, I can wake him up," she laughed.
"Exactly. A hero. The modern version," Tabitha laughed back.
"But I don't need a hero, not in the old sense. I like to think that after I'd worked so hard to build my life to what it is, and we've built a business, I'm doing well for myself. You know? I like to think that I'm my own hero."
"Oooh, that's better than the other idea!" Tabitha shrieked, reaching out to flutter her hand against Cameron's arm. "'I am my own' is good, but 'I am my own hero?!' Oh my gosh, I love that!"
"Love it enough to get one with me?" Cameron asked, risking a look at Tabitha and arching her eyebrow to articulate the challenge.
Tabitha crossed her arms, frowning. "Maybe."
"Well it's right there," Cameron said, pointing as she turned into a parking lot. "So it's decision time."
Tabitha leaned back, sinking farther into her seat. She sighed. "How 'bout I wait and see if you cry? Because if it hurts and you cry, I'm probably just gonna get my kicks from holding your hand and watching.”
Cameron winked. "I shall endeavor not to cry then."
Three hours later, the women emerged from the tattoo parlor, tattooed and exhilarated. Walking gingerly, each fully aware of the open wounds in the flesh below their left breasts, they carefully lowered into Cameron's car. The slam of the doors sounded; Cameron looked at Tabitha, Tabitha looked at Cameron.
Both women burst into helpless giggles.
"God, Cam, don't tell my mom!" Tabitha giggled, her pose awkward as she was overly aware of her freshly tattooed skin.
"You're worried about Aunt Carrie now?!" Cameron gasped. "It's a little late at this point, Tab!" She grinned, evilly, her giggle growing more breathless as she struggled for control. "Oooh, I've got dirt on you now!!! You want my silence, you become my slave!!"
"Hell, no!" Tabitha laughed back, shaking her head as tears streamed down her face. "I'll just tell her myself!!"
Finally sobering, Cameron sniffled and dabbed at her eyes. "Reclaiming myself might be my best decision ever. I can't believe how scared I was, Tab; thanks for coming with me. When the shakes kicked in, I'd have had to back out if I'd been there alone. I can't tell you what it meant to have you there."
"And now we match," Tabitha said, gently touching her side. "Self-possessed."
"Or just regular possessed," Cameron said dryly, sending them both into giggles again.
Chapter Four
"I can't believe the set-up in here!" Tabitha gushed, leaning toward Cameron as they walked the center aisle on the reception deck. The wedding was to be held on a local cruise yacht, with the ceremony on a lower deck and the reception on an upper, outer deck that left the party open to the evening air and the night stars. The ship had been rented out for the night, and cabins were available to those who wished to stay over.
"I know, look at these," Cameron said quietly, trailing her fingers along the edge of a buffet table. The length of the room was divided by long buffet tables, the line broken here and there to allow passage between the tables. Each table was covered with a deep violet cloth that skimmed the floor, and the tables were already prepared with serving dishes and food warmers. Each warmer was elevated to maintain safety, and the bricks used to elevate the warmers were circled by wreaths of peacock feathers, accented with soft white babies’ breath and the elegance of white calla lilies.
"I'm glad they asked to have all the décor done in artificial flowers! And you really can't tell, with this quality," Cameron said. "These are really gorgeous."
Tabitha murmured agreement and drifted away, gently lifting and then replacing a fork here, a glass there as she wandered among the guest tables that lined the outer edges of the deck. "They are seriously going to love this!" she called, grinning over at Cameron. "I mean, I know you told the designers and caterers and stuff that this was a family event, but wow they stepped up in a big way, huh?"
"Yeah really," Cameron answered, reaching out to smooth a crease in a sapphire tablecloth. The guest tables were all covered in deep sapphire cloths, adorned with the same wreath and flower centerpieces that decorated the buffet. Walking to the end of the room, she stood to take in the emerald cloth of the sweetheart's table, the way it contrasted just enough from the other tables but was unified in the overlarge centerpiece that matched all the others except in size.
"This is just insane," Tabitha said, walking over to link arms with Cameron. "Makes me wish I was getting married, all this sparkle and fancy and stuff. Too bad I'm single. Could I do this and marry myself?" she joked.
"Well, that'd be easier than marrying someone else and having to pick up his dirty socks for the rest of your life," Cameron retorted. "Michael finally went back to his own house the other day, and I swear, my house feels so weird without him there. I can clean it, you know, and then it stays clean."
"Oh, that must be terrible for you," Tabitha laughed. She tugged Cameron's arm. "Come on; let's go check the rest of the ship. I'm pretty sure we can mark the reception deck as being perfect."
Nodding in agreement, Cameron allowed Tabitha to tug her from the reception area, her dark eyes silently sweeping one last time over the finery that would celebrate her brother's new love.
"You're thinking of Mac, aren't you?" Tabitha asked, stepping into the elevator with Cameron and pressing the button for the lower floor. Even the elevators had been decorated, with lavish versions of the reception table wreaths hung on the walls. In one corner, there stood a large floor vase, heavy but slender at the bottom and bowing out beautifully toward the top. The upper edge of the fluted vase was delicate, rippling and folding out like the open flute of a delicate flower. From the opening, peacock feathers stood proudly, swaying gently with the motion of the yacht, their colors somehow both brightly encouraging and quietly muted.
"You know, I always seem to be thinking of him lately," Cameron said. "But it's just life; it's the newness of everything. Really, though, right this second, I'm just so touched that the companies we use have gone out of their way like this, knowing it's a family thing for me. And I'm so excited for Drew, and for Cass. They will seriously love all of this, every bit!"
"Well, with their request to be 'surprised' and see it all for the first time on the wedding day, I sure hope they love it. Once the day is here, there's no turning back." The elevator doors slipped open and the women stepped out, taking the hall to the bridal chambers. In the other direction, they would eventually inspect the groom's rooms, and then the actual ceremony area.
"Oh, wow," Tabitha said, walking into the bridal chamber. Off to one side was an open door that led to a giant bathroom. An entire wall in the bathroom was mirrored, and a comfortably upholstered couch rested in front of the mirrors. Cass's bridal slippers were already there, tucked sweetly beneath the silk peacock corsage that would be pinned to her hip during the ceremony. Behind the door, there was a sign that read "For the Lady," and beneath that were the hooks meant to hold the bridal gown when it was delivered.
"Look at these," Cameron called. In the corner of the main room, there was a closet that hid a refrigerator; one side held bottles of wine, bottles of water, and a prepped platter with cold cuts, fruit and cheese for the bride and her small bridal party. The other side was open, and Cameron was leaning eagerly inside, her fingertips gently stroking the sapphire ribbons that circled and spilled from Cass's wedding bouquet. On a shelf beneath it were two smaller bouquets with emerald ribbons, meant for the identical hands of Cass's sisters, the twin children of the foster mother Cass still thought of as her family.
"Without the dress being delivered until after the final fitting, it looks like everything else is set up," Tabitha said. "Food for Cass and her sisters, plenty for her mom too, the flowers are here and safely refrigerated. Corsage and slippers ready. The hair will be simple enough, and the makeup girl Cass wanted said she'd bring her own supplies."
"And my mom isn't finished with the jewelry and stuff yet, but
she said she'll bring it the morning of the wedding. She wants to surprise Cass," Cameron laughed. "Shall we move on to Drew's room?"
"Absolutely. Saving the best for last," Tabitha said with a wink. "I can't wait to see the set-up for the ceremony!"
Closing the door to the bridal chamber, Cameron fought back the sneaking bit of jealousy that nibbled on the edge of her consciousness. Sure, she wanted to be married someday. Sure, she wanted to crawl into bed at night and curl up in the arms of someone who loved her. She wanted to spend hot nights sweating under the efforts of her man, and cool evenings wrapped in the blanket of his body. But there would be time for all that, someday ... wouldn't there?
Driving the thoughts from her mind, she sighed and followed Tabitha's excited chatter down the hall to the groom's suite. Once there, the envy abated as Cameron was swept into the essence of a man's sanctuary. There was no need for a large and elegant bathroom here; the men were afforded a small and clean bathroom, though it was nothing like what the women of Cass's family would be treated to. Here, the colors were darker, and the wedding-themed decor was somewhat muted.
Prescription For Love (The Kingsley Series) Page 14
