With worry in her eyes, she leaves the room in search of her phone.
Chapter Sixteen
Cam
It’s not like Mal to call me several times in a row in such a short period of time. He didn’t leave a voicemail message or send any texts, he just called and called and called. I dial his number and leave him a message asking him to call me back and then called Beck to no answer as well.
Hoping they are both okay, I return to the bedroom where Jacks is sitting at the edge of the bed typing out something on his phone.
“What’s up?” he asks, looking up as he places the phone down on the comforter.
“Not sure. Neither Mal nor Beck is answering. I guess we’ll see if they return my call. So, how was your morning? Nice to be back at the gym?” I ask, walking towards him to stand in the open space between his legs.
“It was nice to get some sort of movement in.” He leans back on his hands and smiles.
“Can I ask you an odd question? Okay, maybe not really odd, but probably not the everyday type of question that one would be asked?” I start.
“Should I be concerned about this question?” he asks playfully.
“I was looking for the broom earlier, because I broke a glass. Sorry about that, by the way. And so, I went looking in the garage for a broom. Why do you have a box labeled knee pads? I mean, why would you need a box full of knee pads? What are you doing on your knees?”
His face slowly turns from serious to sudden laughter. He flops back onto the bed with his hand over his eyes and laughs loudly as I stand still in between his legs with my hands on my hips.
“Oh man,” he says in between fits of laughter. He wipes his eyes and then leans up on his elbows and looks me in the eye. “What do you think it’s for?” he says, finally trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably.
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”
“So as you know, I’m a retired dancer.” he says followed by a leading pause.
“Yeah, okay.”
“So, when we’re doing floor work, rather than moving across the floor on our knees and busting up our skin, we use knee pads to help the glide look effortless and smooth.”
“So you just kept your old knee pads?”
“I bought in bulk. I forgot I still had a box.” He smiles. “What was going through your mind, love?”
“I’m not really sure. It just seemed odd for someone to have so many. But now that you mention it, I do remember seeing the guys in Magic Mike wear them,” I say flippantly.
“I have practice tonight, do you want to come?”
“Practice?”
“I have some new moves I’ve been thinking up that I may want some of the guys to do. You can come and watch it all unfold. Maybe bring the box of knee pads?” He winks.
“Will I be like the stripper fairy, bringing gifts to not injure the knees?”
“Precisely. But love, dancers or erotic dancers, not strippers. Those are the terms that we prefer.”
“Is there a difference?” I ask, honestly wanting to bite my tongue as soon as the words came out.
“No, but I think those titles are just less negative, less objectifying. I mean they take off their clothes, for some form of stimuli, but there are negative connotations associated with the word ‘stripper.’ Dancing is an art, whether you take your clothes off or not,” he says, his tone flat as he straightens and moves me aside a little so he can stand.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push any buttons.”
“No need to apologize. The more people who can view the profession as something less sleazy the better. There are stereotypes about the business that just seem to never go away.”
“I feel like an arse.” I touch his arm and run my hand down the inside of his forearm to grasp his hand.
“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be mad at you. I’m not mad at you. I just get touchy sometimes when I hear people call my dancers strippers. I hated hearing it when I was dancing.”
“Anyone that ever says ‘stripper,’ I will now be able to give them the proper name.” I make a cross-my-heart motion over my chest and he smiles.
“So, do you want to come to practice tonight?”
“Do I get to see you in action?” I perk up.
“Yeah a little.”
“Sold!” I say loudly as he laughs.
We’re walking out of the bedroom when the front door opens and Mal and Beck barrel into the front room. Mal has a wild expression in his eyes as he looks from the kitchen to the hallway where we’re walking out.
Jacks and I are holding hands. By just looking at my brother, I know something is wrong. Jacks must sense it too as his hand squeezes mine. Beck’s eyes are red as she stands slightly behind Mal with one of her hands on his shoulders.
“Fuck. I feel like I’ve looked all over the city for you,” he says, out of breath.
“I’ve been home, I haven’t gone anywhere. What’s up?” I ask. “Everything okay?”
“Why weren’t you answering your phone? I tried calling you several times.”
“I was taking a bath. I called you back though.”
“When I came home, she had the music up pretty loud and her phone was out here. What’s going on?” Jacks asks, coming to stand beside me.
Mal looks at him and then looks at me and shakes his head.
“We’ve got to go. Pack a bag. I booked a flight home, our plane takes off in a few hours.” Mal grabs my arm and pulls me towards the bedroom. “Beck, can you help her?”
“Wait, what? What’s going on? Tell me what’s going on?” I plead.
Beck comes up and wraps her arms around me and leads me down the hall quietly. I look behind as Mal leans in and talks quietly to Jacks. I see Jacks's expression fall. When his eyes cut to me, I see the pain in his eyes. I look to Beck as she leads to the bedroom doorway. “Why aren’t you guys telling me anything? Why am I packing a bag and why am I going home?”
“We all are. Something’s happened,” Beck replies.
We enter the bedroom and Beck doesn’t say any more. She sees a bag on the top shelf of Jacks’ closet and grabs it.
“Where are your clothes?” she asks.
“In the other room. I haven’t moved any of it over in here,” I reply.
Beck is going through the motions and I’m not sure if she’s deliberately not saying anything or if she just doesn’t know what to say.
Something’s happened.
What happened? To whom? And why are we going home?
Why is no one telling me what is going on?
We walk back into the living room where Mal and Jacks are seated. Jacks stands and comes in front of me and grabs my hands.
“Come sit.” He instructs.
Wordlessly, I walk around the couch and sit beside Jacks. The mood in the room is tense as I sit in between Jacks and Mal. Mal turns his body to me and takes a deep breath.
“We have to go home.” He starts, takes a deep breath and then continues. Beck’s hand is on his shoulder from behind and soon tears are streaming down my face and I’m leaning into Jacks. His arms surround me and hold me tightly as my world crumbles.
Chapter Seventeen
Jacks
I’m going out of my mind. Cam has only been gone for a few days, but I miss her and I wish that she would call and talk to me. Mal and Beck took her back home and she hasn’t returned any of my calls. I'm trying to keep my calm, but knowing the details gutted me. While I knew Mal and Cam’s parents, I wasn’t that close them. I enjoyed a dinner or two with the family, but I wasn’t around them enough to think of them as my family as well. I had to stay back here in Vegas and take over Mal’s duties while they were back home, but my mind wasn’t here. I wanted to be with them, to be with Cam and to let her bury her head in my chest and cry as much as she needs. Instead, I’m dealing with vendor orders, music selections and payroll.
I've spoken with Cam only once since she landed, but I haven’t heard from her si
nce.
I understand though.
Her mom.
She’s dead.
Cam’s devastated. I would be too if I were in her position.
When Mal and Beck came running into my house to get Cam, I saw the pain and the sorrow in Mal’s eyes. They weren’t saying what happened to not worry Cam off the bat, but when Cam and Beck went into the bedroom, I persuaded Mal to do it with me there, for her if she needed that support.
I’m sitting in the upstairs office at the club when my phone vibrates across the desk in front of me. I look at my watch. It’s two in the morning and my phone never rings at this time of night.
I glance at the phone screen.
Mal.
I answer, hoping that Cam is with him and I get a chance to speak with her.
“Mate?” Mal greets.
“Hey. How is everyone holding up?” I ask, leaning back in the chair.
“It’s somber that’s for sure. Pop is just a shell and Cam seems to be in denial.”
“Fuck.” I tug at my short hair. “And you?” I question.
Mal takes a deep breath. “I’m getting by. Having Beck here is helpful. Since no one else has come to terms with everything, I’m making a lot of calls and arrangements. It’s all very taxing.”
“Is there anything that I can do?” I ask with worry.
“Distract me for a few minutes. What kind of shit is happening right now?”
“Well, I’m participating in girl talk with Kendra and Janae. I’ve lost my balls and I think I’m growing tits.”
“You would look strange with tits.”
“I think I would look rather great. Think about it. I’m not a bad looking guy so if I had tits, I would be a hot commodity.”
“I think you would be a hit with a particular type of group, but not the general public. I mean I doubt my sister would like it if you had tits.”
“Don’t knock it.”
“Your brain is leaking mate.” Mal laughs.
“Where’s Cam?” I ask curiously.
“She’s next door at Mrs. Williams’ place. Cam used to help Mrs. Williams out occasionally before she moved to Vegas. I think she’s picking up where she left off, trying to occupy herself and do what feels normal to her.”
“I hate being here while she’s there.” I groan.
“I know it would cost a lot, but maybe you can make it out here for the funeral, I can send you the details. I know Cam would appreciate it. Shit man, I would appreciate it. I felt bad enough that Beck and I took off with no warning, but you have a few days to prepare. What do you say?”
“I’m not sure she would want me there. We haven’t spoken since she first arrived.”
“Mate, she’s out of sorts. She needs you, she just doesn’t know it right now. Give her a ring; I’m sure she would answer it.”
I can hear Beck in the background and Mal ends the conversation. He tells me that he’ll send me the funeral information and we say our goodbyes. I look at my calendar and black out Wednesday through the weekend to go home and be there for my best mate and my girl. I pull up the schedule and try to think hard about what the fuck we’ll do for management since both Mal and myself will be gone. Kendra is only one person and we can’t ask her to work such long days. After about an hour of wracking my brain, I decide that the head of security, Dwayne, and bar manager, Janae, can fill in the slots of time when Kendra can’t be here. I’ve spaced out Kendra’s hours to where she will be at the club during the peak hours, and Janae or Dwayne will stay until closing. Kendra can check everything when she arrives the next afternoon.
I feel like I could solve any brain teaser after everything I just worked out.
I write everything out on the whiteboard on the wall, stand back and admire my thought process. The next day, I show up to the club early enough to catch Kendra with a few hours left to go on her shift, so I could present the plan to her.
She is completely on board, and she even offers to work a few additional hours on the busiest days. We each do some scribbling on the whiteboard and, by the time she had to take off, we are both satisfied with the schedule for the days I’ll be gone.
My phone rang a few times while I was working on the schedule with Kendra. I had ignored it at the time, and when I finally picked up my phone, I was kicking my own ass because I missed two calls from Cam. I immediately dial her number, hoping that she picks up.
The line connects, and I hear a rustling of fabric before she answers.
“Jacks,” she says breathily.
“‘Ello, love. How are you?” I miss you.
“Holding up. Listen. I wanted to call you as soon as I made up my mind. I didn’t want to prolong this any more than it should be.”
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“I’m not coming home,” she says quickly. "I'm staying here. I need to. I'm needed here."
The sounds of a car wreck are distinct and devastating – the squealing of tires, the screeching of brakes, the boom of impact, the crunch of metal, The silence that surrounds the space immediately after is just as overwhelming. That’s what I’m experiencing right now. I’m not sure if my heart has stopped or not, because time has stopped. I’m not completely sure I heard her right.
I clear my throat. “Come again?”
“I’m staying here. Home. In Australia.”
I’m not an extremely tall man, but sitting in an airplane for seventeen hours is brutal. I sleep as much as my body permits, but the individual sitting beside me keeps climbing over me to use the facilities, and the beverage cart keeps slamming into my elbow as it passes up and down the aisle.
When I land in Sydney, I arrange for a rental and make my way to the home of Cam and Malcolm’s parents in Waverton on Sydney’s north shore. I drive through the familiar streets of the small suburban area, passing small shops and local restaurants, into the neighborhoods filled with homes, large ones with amazing architecture, high rise apartments, and cottages of all sizes. Their parents lived in a medium-size cottage with a backyard you can see the harbor in the distance. Next to their home is a pocket park, packed with children running around at the moment. The area is so close to the city, yet still quiet. Only the laughing kookaburras and children make up for the sounds of the city across the way.
I pull up and park my rental behind another rental car and step out.
I came with no plan other than to be here for Cam and for Mal and to be a support for Cam and her family in whatever way that I can. I know she’s doing whatever she can do to keep busy which also may be including that she’s avoiding her feelings and everything that’s happening.
After the phone call when Cam told me she was ending things with me the other night, I’ve been pulling my hair out. I’m frustrated, devastated, and feeling the sorrow that I’m sure she is feeling from losing her mom. Mal called me the same night Cam did and told me that she was out of her mind with grief and likely didn’t know what she was saying. He thinks she was talking out of grief and not out of her actual wants or reality as a whole.
I don’t want to force her to come back to Vegas, but I also didn’t want her to give up on us. Still, I understand why she thinks that she should stay.
I’ve come to the realization that I am going to the woman I love. That’s when it hit me like a ton of bricks. I love her. There was no question about it.
I love Cam.
I. Love. Her.
So regardless of her decision about relocating, I need to be there for her, and for Mal. I need to tell her in person, so I can look into her eyes when I tell her that I completely adore her, that I love her with everything that I am. I need to see her and, even if she doesn’t change her mind, then at least I will have been there for those that I love in their time of grieving and then return home.
Alone.
I slowly walk the distance from the curb to the front door. I hesitate and take a deep breath, then knock on the door. Mal opens up the door and then pushes open the screen, a weak smile on his
tired face and a sigh of relief. He pulls me in for a half hug and a pat on the back, then steps aside to let me into the house.
“I’m glad you could make it. I need all the help I can get. Pop won’t get out of bed and Cam seems to be constantly busying herself with mediocre tasks in order to avoid us as much as possible. She doesn’t know you were planning on coming.”
We walk into the kitchen and through a sliding glass door leading to the back porch, which overlooks greenery and then the water. Beck is sitting in one of the lounge chairs and turns her head when we come outside. She stands and approaches, opening her arms to embrace me.
“So glad you could come. I know it means a lot to them,” she whispers in my ear.
“No other place I would rather be,” I reply with all honesty.
“How ya going?” I look to Mal and he shrugs.
“It’s a toss-up. Sometimes I feel like I’m barmy as a bandicoot, other times I’m fine.”
“And Cam? You don’t think Cam staying here is what she really wants, do you?” I ask with hope.
They both shake their heads. “Cam is happy in Las Vegas with you. Despite Ma passing, Cam is truly happy with you. I think she’s looking for the familiar, and that’s here.”
“So what I need to do is to show her the familiar with me, with the four of us. You think that will change her mind?” I ask.
“Her mind isn’t made up. She’s running on empty. She’s frantic and constantly on the move. She won’t allow herself to slow down. Since we arrived, she’s barely slept and hasn’t sat down long enough to digest fully everything that’s happened,” Beck says.
“Where is she now?” I ask, wanting to rush to her.
“She went to the chemist; Pop needed a refill. She should be home shortly.”
As soon as Mal finished speaking, a door slammed somewhere in the house and I could hear yelling. It’s Cam’s voice. I look nervously to Mal who stands and goes inside the house to retrieve his sister.
The Night Moves Boxset: (Stripped, The Hook-up, The Night Manager) Page 25
