Cam Girl

by Leah Raeder

Ellis stood behind me, watching me in the mirror. I slipped my phone into my jeans. She stepped close, caught my hand against my thigh. Her eyes were sad.

  “This really is what you want,” she said softly.

  “I don’t know what I want. That’s why I’m here.”

  Our gazes locked in the mirror. For a moment I saw us as characters, not ourselves: a redheaded prince and a black-haired princess, neither of whom could rescue each other, in a story without a happy ending.

  “Dane’s waiting,” I said.

  “We could walk out of here right now.”

  “Ellis.”

  “We could go home. Or anywhere. Just me and you, Vada.”

  I averted my face, but clasped the hand at my side, twisting my fingers in hers. “You are my home.”

  “Then why are we here? What do you want?”

  “I don’t know.” Something like this. Me and you, without the fear.

  She untangled herself, pulled free. “I tried. But I was never enough for you.”

  “Don’t.”

  “I loved you the best I could.”

  “Don’t make me fucking cry, Ellis.”

  Eyes shut. Breathe.

  When I opened them again, she was gone.

  I turned on the water and listened to it for a while. Let it soothe me. Part of me had been born on a windswept prairie, but part had been born here, on this jagged, sea-lashed shore. The rawness and loneliness of New England resonated inside me like a tuning fork. The ocean was in my blood. I came here to escape who I was and only ended up finding myself again.

  “You okay?” Dane said as I joined them at the table.

  “Yep. So, plan?”

  “Red says you don’t have visuals of this guy.”

  I thought of the figurine photos. His hands. “Nothing that would actually help. He’s fair-skinned, not old. All I know.”

  Ellis flicked a paper packet across the table. She and Dane were playing sugar hockey.

  “That describes ninety percent of the people in this room,” she said.

  “He told me I’d know him when I saw him.” I intercepted the packet. “That can only mean I already know him.”

  “Or he’s someone famous,” Dane said.

  “Or he’s lying,” Ellis said.

  I flipped the packet to her. “Occam’s razor, Professor.”

  “What’s that?” Dane asked, and for a second Ellis met my eyes, almost smiling.

  “Assume I’ve seen him before,” I said. “He’s probably light-haired. Lean build. Blue eyes. Somewhere between his twenties and forties.”

  Dane reclined in the booth, hands knit behind his head. “Sounds like your type.”

  I kicked him under the table. Ellis flicked the sugar packet at his chest and it made a little thwap.

  Again we almost shared a smile. Then she said, “He might be armed.”

  “Give me a break. We’re meeting at a coffeehouse in the middle of the day. It’s not going to turn violent.”

  “Unless you dump him in front of everyone.”

  “You’re being ridiculous. I can go by myself if you’re that worried.”

  I stood and they did, too.

  “Morgan.” Dane touched my arm. “We just want to keep you safe. Right, Red?”

  Ellis sighed.

  “Look,” Dane said, “I’ll be there the whole time. I’ll come and go in different disguises.”

  “Disguises?”

  He took Ellis’s glasses and slid them on, grinning.

  “I’m Clark Kent, baby.”

  He was so goddamn cute I couldn’t stay mad. “Fine. No heroics, though. If stuff goes south, I’ll give you a sign.”

  We hashed out the remaining logistics until Ellis went outdoors to vape. When she was gone I turned serious.

  “Is it you, Dane?”

  “What?”

  “Clark Kent. Red. Our kiss. The show you gave me.” My hand darted across the table, seizing his like a viper. I turned his palm up. “Are you Blue?”

  “I guess you’re gonna find out, huh?”

  My heart hung in my chest, untethered.

  Dane squeezed my hand and let go. “I wouldn’t mess with you, Morgan. You and me had a spark. We let it die. That’s that. Besides, I’ve been busy with the studio. No time for romance. Last couple months, we pulled in more revenue than Frankie’s house.”

  Because I hadn’t been camming. Because of Blue.

  A suspicion flickered in my mind.

  “Would you ever hire someone to . . . distract me?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You looking for an escort? I know some guys. I’m offended you didn’t ask me first, though.”

  “No, you bozo.” I had to laugh. “Never mind. And who do you know?”

  “Some guys.”

  “Some guys. Right.”

  He winked.

  Like me, Dane was primarily attracted to the opposite sex, but he hooked up with men, too. I wondered if he’d ever fallen in love with another man. If it made him question whether he was really bi. And I hoped he wasn’t playing me, because I needed a friend who understood what this was like.

  Dane checked his watch. “Ready to meet the man of your dreams?”

  “I have a feeling I already have.”

  The walk to the café felt surreal. My head floated a dozen stories up, observing from a bird’s-eye view: the city gleaming with an oil-paint glaze, cars and feet flowing through the warrens of Boston. Two people walking to a café. Two stories, one about to begin, the other to end.

  Ellis and I went into an upscale hipster coffeehouse, all unstained hardwood and riveted steel. Track lights twinkled in the crisp air like champagne bubbles. We took a table on the mezzanine and I emailed Blue.

  I’m here

  Two syllables. The sound my heart was making, over and over.

  When I looked up, Ellis was watching me. Our hands joined under the table. I hung on for dear life.

  Thank you, I mouthed.

  No response. But she was hanging on to me, too.

  Below us Dane walked in, bought a latte, and sat near the window.

  This was it.

  The meeting was set for two p.m. At ten till I was a mess, breathing fast, my heart kicking down my ribs like a wild bull. Every time the café door opened I nearly leaped from my seat. Two o’clock came and went. Maybe his plane was delayed. Two fifteen. He got stuck in traffic. Two thirty. Dane left.

  Ellis watched me more than the door. Her thumb moved over the back of my hand, steady, a little metronome of sanity.

  Three o’clock. I stopped refreshing my email every thirty seconds.

  Dane came back in wearing a track jacket, and glanced up before buying a bear claw and sitting beneath us.

  I took a deep breath. “Blue bitched out.”

  Ellis said nothing. My pulse slowed enough to distinguish it from hers: hers was still fast, nervous.

  She liked things scheduled and organized. Settled. This was chaos.

  where are you, Blue?

  I checked the weather. Plane delays. Road accidents. Someone died on the Maine Turnpike that afternoon. Water lying like silver silk on the macadam. Tires that couldn’t bite through it. Skid, smash. No seat belt.

  Buckle up, kids. Unless you’re so tired and beaten you’d rather die.

  At half past three I bought lattes. By four, the pale light flooding through the windows dimmed and faded. At four thirty I went to pee.

  I’m leaving at five

  where the fuck are you?

  As I left the stall, my phone buzzed in my hand. I was so startled I nearly threw it.

  vada.

  don’t be angry with me.

  Guaranteed way to piss me off.

  you’re not coming, are you?

  I was afraid to move, my entire being focused on this tiny phone screen.

  The next email came while I washed up at the sink.

  i saw you, with red.

  holding her hand.

  you looked
right at me. through me.

  i watched you together.

  and i knew it was wrong.

  coming between you two.

  vada, i felt something real for you.

  i still do.

  but your heart belongs to someone else.

  it’s wrong of me to ruin that.

  what i’ve done is wrong.

  i hope someday you can forgive me.

  yours, always,

  blue.

  Everything in me was going a hundred miles an hour. Then it hit:

  you looked right at me.

  He was here.

  I ran out of the bathroom, crashing into someone on their way in. Mumbled apology. Blurred lights, a swirling cacophony of voices. I dashed beneath the mezzanine and looked up.

  Ellis stood, peering down. “Vada?”

  “He was here.”

  I stumbled through a couple at the door and onto the street.

  Commuters flooded past, umbrellas up, small pearls and crystals of rain rolling off and shattering on the asphalt. A taxi pulled away from the curb and I chased it into traffic but when I grabbed the door handle, a shocked woman’s face stared out. Mist collected on my skin. Any man that passed could have been him. Fine, pale hands. That’s all I knew. Aside from the way he’d made me feel, the way he’d laced his fingers into my heart and unraveled it. Was that what I’d have to do? Pry my ribs open and see whose hands fit, whose fingers were stained with the same red inside me?

  I walked up and down the block, peering into every face. Looking for Max, or someone I knew. Anyone. Only strangers. Then Ellis and Dane appeared like angels, one on either side.

  “What happened?” Dane said.

  Ellis clung to my arm, eyes wide.

  “He stood me up. That fucking asshole stood me up. He was here. He saw us, and bailed, like a little bitch.”

  People on the street side-eyed me. I wanted to snarl, What the fuck are you looking at? Haven’t you ever seen someone getting their heart broken?

  “Why?” Ellis said.

  I shook my head. “I’ll explain later. I just—I want—”

  Across the street, a bar sign glowed warmly through the rain.

  “I want to get shitfaced.”

  * * *

  Three White Mexicans later—tequila, Kahlua, and horchata— I felt a lot less shitty about this whole stupid scenario.

  Dane matched me with Moscow mules. Ellis was still on her second amaretto sour, but she was easily the drunkest.

  “Let’s play a game,” she said.

  The bar bustled, sweat sparkling in the air, Ed Sheeran crooning “I’m a Mess” on the sound system. Scents of fish and chips and vinegar wafted from the kitchen. Ellis and I sat crammed in a small booth, Dane straddling a chair across from us.

  “What’s your game, Red?” he said.

  “Never Have I Ever.”

  “It’s a trick,” I said. “She always wins. She’s pure of heart.”

  Ellis gave us an airy look. “It’s okay if you’re not up to the challenge.”

  The later it got, the calmer and more confident she got. It curdled in my gut, knowing she was relieved I wasn’t spending the night with a stranger. Because Blue bailed. Not because I’d chosen her.

  Dane signaled a server, and Ellis ordered eight shots of Johnnie Walker Blue. Dane whooped. I put a hand on her arm.

  “Do you have any idea how expensive that is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t order it just for the sake of irony.”

  “I’m ordering it because it’s expensive and ironic.”

  “You can’t stand whiskey. You’re going to puke it all back up.”

  “Unless I beat you.”

  I folded my arms. Ellis raised an eyebrow, defying me.

  “Red’s throwing down,” Dane said.

  I met her stare for stare. “You’re on.”

  When the shots arrived she arranged them in two neat rows.

  RULES OF NEVER HAVE I EVER:

  1. Someone says, “Never have I ever” done something.

  2. Anyone who has done that does a shot.

  3. If no one drinks, the first person does a shot.

  “Three shots and you’re out,” she said. “Last man standing wins.”

  “Who’s first?” I said.

  Dane shrugged. “I vote Red. Let’s see how dirty she plays.”

  “You don’t know what you’re getting into,” I warned. “Her IQ is probably a multiple of yours.”

  “Be nice,” Ellis said.

  “Floor’s yours, brainiac.”

  She eyed us coolly. “Never have I ever kissed everyone at this table.”

  Shit.

  I delayed a few seconds, poker-faced, then grudgingly picked up a shot. Liquid smoke and hot toffee. My chest burned.

  Ellis and Dane gaped at each other.

  “You kissed him?” she said.

  “You kissed her?” he said.

  I groaned. “I fucking told you. She doesn’t play fair.”

  “I need details,” Dane said, and Ellis said, darker, “So do I.”

  “Nope.” I banged my glass on the table. “And if you two ever talk about it, I’m disowning you both. You’re up, Dane.”

  He looked at me, then her, his eyes glittering. “Never have I ever fucked anyone at this table.”

  Nobody moved. Then Ellis and I reached for shots at the same time.

  Dane crowed with glee.

  “You are such a guy,” I said, and slammed mine.

  Ellis wrinkled her nose and downed hers. She looked poisoned. I was two deep, plus the other drinks, and getting giddy. I brushed my fingertips over her throat, tickling.

  “You just drank thirty bucks like it was toilet water.”

  “Oh my god. Could you please not.”

  Dane watched us avidly, his hands steepled.

  “I’ll admit it, Dane. You’re a natural. But I’ve got your number.” I smiled. “Never have I ever received anal sex.”

  His eyebrows rose.

  He picked up a glass.

  “Who was he?” I said, intrigued. “Older, younger? Was he good?”

  Dane did the shot and set the glass down. “Which time?”

  I giggled. Ellis studied us, her game face on.

  “She’s so cute when she’s all thinky.” I traced a finger around her ear, along her jaw. “My pretty little prince.”

  “If you’re that drunk, I will graciously accept your surrender.”

  “Never.” I slapped the table, rattling the glasses. “To the death.”

  Ellis looked regretfully at Dane. “I’m sorry, but: never have I ever jerked off to everyone at this table.”

  “Aw, come on.”

  We both laughed at him.

  “Payback’s a bitch,” I said.

  Dane did another shot.

  “But the question is,” I said, “did you fantasize about us separately, or together?”

  “Let’s head to your hotel and I’ll reenact it for you.”

  Ellis turned bright red. I wadded up a napkin and threw it at Dane.

  We all laughed, drunk and careless and happy, and I realized with a pang that I hadn’t thought of Blue for a while. The splintery, cracked place in my sternum felt blunted. It was mainly the alcohol but for a second I wanted to hug them both, hard. I slipped my foot behind Ellis’s, linked my ankle with hers. She gave me a private smile.

  Dane watched us, not salacious now but thoughtful.

  “Your turn, ol’ blue eyes,” I said.

  “Never have I ever been in love with someone at this table.”

  I stalled. “Not even a little?”

  “Sorry, baby. Infatuation doesn’t count.”

  Ellis reached for a shot. I took the one next to hers. We glanced at each other.

  “I lose,” I said.

  We threw our shots back simultaneously. When I lowered my face, she leaned in and kissed me. Once, sweetly, on the lips. It burned through me in a flash of wi
ldfire. Dane didn’t comment—he didn’t even look aroused. He just smiled at us.

  What the hell am I doing here? I thought. Why did I come a hundred miles for some stranger when she made me feel like this?

  I leaned in and kissed her back, not sweet. Fierce.

  When I stopped for breath, dizzy, Dane was gone.

  “He went to the bathroom,” Ellis said. Shy-eyed and flustered, adorable.

  “Want to get out of here?” I said.

  “Shouldn’t we wait for him?”

  “He’ll understand.”

  In the taxi I sent him a text.

  MORGAN: taking a cab to the hotel

  MORGAN: meet up tomorrow?

  DANE: u bet

  DANE: but who won the game??

  MORGAN: you did

  DANE: hmmm u sure?

  DANE: ur taking the hottie to your room

  DANE: in my book thats a win

  I laughed, and held my phone away from Ellis when she tried to see.

  DANE: let me know if u need backup

  DANE: I can show u that fantasy red asked about

  MORGAN: you’re a pig

  MORGAN: I’m blocking your number

  DANE: ;)

  DANE: have a nice night baby

  Ellis wrestled for my phone, convinced Dane was mocking her. We sprawled across the backseat and I tickled her elbows and knees till she pulled my hair and we collapsed together, laughing, then falling quiet. Streetlights swept over us, amber into violet into amber.

  The things I want to do to you, my prince.

  Sixteen floors up, Boston was a diorama of tiny toy cars and boats, miniature lights, electric filigree. I’d paid a mint for a suite overlooking the harbor, with its own private terrace. In the twilight the gilt and porcelain looked palatial.

  “This is like some fairy tale.” I stepped outside. Cold, the wind tangy with brine. “None of this seems real.”

  Ellis leaned on the railing, gazing at the water. “I know.”

  “You seem real. Are you?”

  She didn’t answer.

  I moved behind her, slid my arms around her waist. Kissed the bare nape of her neck, hot lips on cool skin. Exhaled into her short hair. There was something both masculine and feminine about her, or neither. The androgynous beauty of youths in myth, the type gods would chase and try to defile, until some other god took pity and turned them into a flower, or a tree.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “Mythologizing you.” My mouth moved against her skin. “You’re my favorite subject, Ellis. Your body. Your mind.” I laid a finger at the center of her chest. “Your heart. I miss drawing you. Sometimes my hand moves on its own, a muscle memory. I dream of it. I dream of you in colors that don’t exist.”