The Strategist

by John Hardy Bell

  From behind she heard the sound of footsteps entering the room.

  “Any sign of that crazy father of mine?” Camille said without turning around.

  Her question was met with silence.

  “Julia? I said have you seen my dad anywh—” Camille’s voice caught in her throat as she turned around to see her father standing in the doorway. The broad smile on his bearded face instantly obliterated the force field she had planned to hide behind once she saw him.

  “Are you just going to stand there? Or can this crazy father of yours actually get a hug?” Paul Grisham asked as he extended arms so long they looked as if they could wrap around Camille twice with room to spare.

  She wanted to run straight into those arms, to lose herself in the warmth and safety of an embrace that had comforted her more times than she could remember. But she was frozen where she stood. The scenarios of this moment played out constantly in her head since she decided to come home. None of those scenarios, however, involved her suddenly losing the power of speech.

  “Judging by your lack of forward movement I’m assuming a hug may not be in the cards,” Paul continued, his smile slowly fading.

  “I’m sorry,” Camille finally answered. “I didn’t think you were here. Julia and I came in and the house was empty.”

  “Actually the house is quite crowded.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I suppose Julia told you about our little get-together?”

  “As a matter of fact she didn’t,” Camille said with a straight face.

  “I’m not so sure I believe that. But in any case, there are about twenty people downstairs very eager to see you.”

  “Were you all hiding in the basement or something?”

  “We were waiting on the patio. Good thing it’s enclosed with the way this rain is coming down, otherwise my plan would have gone completely to hell.”

  “And what was your plan?”

  “I wasn’t going to have twenty people bombard you in the living room the second you walked in the door. I wanted you to have whatever moment you needed in here before you saw anyone. Once you made your way into the kitchen you would see everybody and make your own decision about when to join us. And if you didn’t want to join us, that would be okay too. But I certainly wanted to try. You’re very much in demand down there.”

  Camille felt the corner of her mouth curl up in an involuntary smile. “And what about the demand level up here?”

  Something quivered in her father’s face and a tear began to pool under his eyelid.

  “It’s off the charts.”

  This time when he extended his arms, Camille didn’t hesitate. She sunk her head into his barrel of a chest and kept it there for a long time. There were no words spoken between them. And in the best case scenario that Camille envisioned for this moment, there didn’t have to be.

  After what felt like an hour, Camille lifted her head and looked in her father’s face. His smile made her feel more accepted than the world’s largest welcome home party ever could, and she wanted to punch herself for ever doubting that he would make her feel any differently.

  “So what do you feel like doing?”

  Camille was hesitant to answer. For as nice as it was that people took time out of their day to see her, she wasn’t sure she was up for the role of party hostess.

  Paul continued. “If you’re not comfortable, I’ll understand and so will everyone else. Well, everyone except your Aunt Helen.”

  “You invited Aunt Helen?” Camille bellowed with a feigned look of dread. “I’m surprised she hasn’t already marched up here wondering where the hell I am.”

  “Exactly. And the longer you keep her waiting, the more likely that trip will be.”

  Camille took a deep breath to steel herself. Paul put a hand on her shoulder and offered a nod of reassurance. Her first steps into the unknown. She was as ready as she was ever going to be.

  “I guess we’d better not keep her waiting.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Aunt Helen wasn’t the least bit put off by Camille’s delayed appearance, and neither was anyone else. Though her father said the guest list numbered at twenty, Camille counted at least fifteen more. Unlike the vision that played out in her mind, there was no spontaneous cheer when she arrived; no cake and ice-cream; no party hats or streamers. Just smiles, hugs, and lots of encouraging words.

  Despite her initial misgivings, she couldn’t help but feel touched by the outpouring. Most of the people here were family and close friends who knew Camille long before she had even considered joining the FBI. Many of them had barely even known Camille the FBI agent, aside from what they heard from her father or read in the newspapers. Much to her relief, not a single one of them appeared interested in learning anything more.

  As the day went on and news of her arrival had apparently spread, more people came. Before Camille realized it, the once modest gathering of well-wishers had morphed into a full-blown party. Dixie cups were replaced with beer bottles. Quiet remembrances became raucous storytelling sessions. And for the first time in years, Camille was beginning to remember what home felt like.

  At some point during the festivities, she had lost track of Julia. When Camille last saw her she was talking to her cousin Jonathan, a bear of a man who was the sweetest soul Camille had ever known. He was also a shameless flirt. Even though Julia never had an issue holding her own in social situations, and Cousin Jonathan was as harmless as they came, Camille still felt the need to come to her friend’s assistance. But before she could reach them, she was inadvertently pulled into a debate regarding the qualifications of the two local candidates running for U.S. Senate. Beyond the fact that she knew nothing about the candidates, Camille would rather gouge her eyes out than discuss politics on any level. By the time she managed to politely remove herself from the conversation, Julia was gone.

  She searched the kitchen, then the living room, then her father’s office, but saw no sign of her. Afraid that she may have left, Camille stepped onto the front porch. Julia’s car was still parked in the driveway.

  Unsure of where else to look, Camille used the most dependable locating method she knew of. She called her cell phone.

  Julia answered after one ring. “Hey.”

  “Hey stranger. I haven’t seen you for a while. I was worried my cousin sweet-talked you into the closet or something.”

  Julia chuckled. “He’s a cute man, but not that cute.”

  “So where did you go?”

  “I’m actually up in your bedroom.”

  “Oh my God, he’s not up there with you is he?” Camille asked with a smile she could barely contain.

  “Jesus, you’re gross. I just needed some quiet.”

  “Don’t get your yoga pants in a knot. I was kidding.” Camille expected another chuckle to let her know that everything was okay, but Julia was silent. “Are you alright?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Do you want me to come up?”

  Julia made a noise that sounded like a sniffle. “Yes and no.”

  “I’m ignoring the no.”

  Camille quickly made her way up the stairs. Even though the bedroom door was ajar, she still knocked.

  “You can come in, Cam. I’m decent.”

  Camille opened the door and saw Julia sitting on the side of the bed. She was scrolling through her cell phone with the intent of someone desperate to find a long lost message.

  “I figured I would be the one hiding out up here,” Camille said as she walked in.

  Julia looked up from her phone with heavy eyes. “Sorry. I had to make a few calls.”

  “Everything okay?”

  Julia nodded but was otherwise silent.

  Camille closed the door and sat down on the bed. “I’m getting that cryptic vibe from you again.”

  “I don’t mean to do that.”

  “For someone who doesn’t mean to, you’re doing an awfully good job of it.”

  “It�
�s just a weird time, that’s all.”

  “Preaching to the choir, sister.”

  Julia sighed. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “Everything you’ve gone through and you have to come home to a basket-case of a best friend. Not exactly the welcome that you deserve.”

  “Right now I’m not concerned with what kind of welcome home I deserve. I’m concerned about what’s going on in my best friend’s life that’s got her feeling like a basket-case.”

  Julia abruptly stood up and walked to the window. “There sure are a lot of cars out there,” she said as she peered through the blinds. “I told you there were a ton of people eager to see you.”

  “Don’t you dare try and change the subject,” Camille barked. “Get back over here and sit.”

  Julia rolled her eyes. “Okay mom. You don’t have to be so mean about it.” She sat down on the bed with a huff.

  “Talk.”

  “I guess the interrogation has officially begun.”

  “If that’s what it takes. I’ve only lost the desire. I haven’t lost the skill. Remember that.”

  “I don’t doubt your skill for a second.”

  “Then why do I feel like you’re trying to test it?”

  “I’m honestly not trying to be difficult about this. I just don’t feel the need to burden you with my screw ups the day you get home.”

  “I’ve been burdened with your screw-ups from the day I first met you,” Camille said with a half-cocked smile she hoped would ease the tension that was beginning to fill the room.

  Julia’s quivering lip let her know the tactic hadn’t worked.

  “Bad joke. I’m sorry.”

  “Hey, it’s not like you’re lying.”

  They had first met as roommates during their second year at the University of Colorado. As a way of ushering in their newly minted friendship, Julia invited Camille to a house party for the sorority she wanted to pledge. On her first night as Julia’s roommate, Camille not only bore witness to drunken outbursts that would make a sailor blush, she also had to endure the indignity of being thrown out of the house after Julia decided she would rather steal a Delta Gamma pin than pledge for it. If the sorority president hadn’t been wearing the pin at the time, Julia may have actually gotten away with it.

  When they finally stumbled back to their dorm room, she spent the entire night apologizing. But Camille was far from upset. In Julia she saw the rebellious free spirit that she could never be; the yin to her yang. And though on the surface they appeared to have little in common – Camille played basketball on the cracked asphalt of the Skyline recreation center while Julia played golf on the pristine greens of the Cherry Hills Country Club – they quickly realized that theirs was the recipe for a perfect friendship. Camille needed someone to show her what it was like to walk on the edge, and Julia needed someone to pull her back when she went too far. Sixteen years later, the recipe may have changed, but their friendship was still perfect

  “Jules, you may be a lot of things, but you’re far from being a screw-up.”

  “Don’t be so sure about that.”

  “Fine. I’ll reserve judgment until I actually hear the story, is that fair?”

  Julia nodded, her eyes cast down at her feet. “Fair.”

  Several beats of silence passed between them.

  “That was your cue to tell me the story,” Camille finally said.

  “Not now.”

  Camille clenched her jaw in an attempt to fight back her mounting frustration. “What is the big deal? You’ve never held out on my like this. Did you kill someone or something?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then it couldn’t possibly be that bad.”

  Camille expected a quick answer, but was instead was met with silence.

  “Could it?”

  Julia’s cell phone chimed with the sound of tubular bells. She anxiously read the text message then turned the phone off and pushed it in her jacket pocket. “I hate to do this to you, but I have to go.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  Julia quickly rose to her feet and started for the door. “Unfortunately I’m not. Something’s come up at work and I have to go put out the fire.”

  For reasons she couldn’t explain, Camille didn’t believe her. “So we’re just leaving this up in the air?”

  Julia stopped short of the door. “Why don’t we do dinner at my house tomorrow? I’ll grill some steaks, we’ll open a couple of bottles of wine, and I’ll totally spill my guts.”

  “No more holding out on me?”

  “No more holding out,” she answered with a smile that Camille could only hope was sincere.

  “It’s a date then.”

  “Good. I’ll write down the address. Do you think you can get a ride?”

  “Now that I’m finally old enough to drive maybe my dad will let me borrow his. By the way, do still have those dogs?”

  “Of course. Those are my two babies.”

  “They’re Dalmatians, Julia. I doubt there’s anything baby-like about them.”

  Julia shook her head. “You dealt with the world’s most hard-core killers on a daily basis, yet you’re still petrified of dogs. I’ll never understand it. But if it will help, I’ll make sure they’re in the backyard when you come.”

  “Thank you,” Camille said. “And by the way, I’m not petrified of dogs.”

  “No? Then what would you call it?”

  “Hopelessly petrified.”

  She and Julia shared a much needed laugh. After she wrote down her address, Julia extended her arms. “Hug please? A big one?”

  Camille promptly obliged.

  “To say it’s good to have you home would be the understatement of the century,” Julia said.

  Camille’s face felt flush. “You make being home a lot easier to deal with.”

  “You know, I really can’t help but wonder how different things would be if you had been around more.”

  Camille pulled away from Julia’s embrace. “What do you mean?”

  Julia paused to measure her words. “You’re the only person in my life who has ever been able to reel me in when I step too far out on the ledge. Most people I know could watch me fall off head first and not lose a moment of sleep over it.”

  “Jesus, what kind of crowd are you running with these days?”

  “The kind you probably wouldn’t approve of.”

  “If you’re talking about those money hungry assholes you complained about earlier, then you’re right damn right I don’t approve.”

  Julia’s face twisted in disgust. “It’s not about money for these people. Money is simply a byproduct.”

  “A byproduct of what?” Camille asked, her curiosity once again piqued.

  “The game.”

  “The game?”

  “Constantly testing their ability to manipulate a system they’ve already thoroughly corrupted. Most of us have boundaries we won’t cross. Most of us live a life of limits. These people don’t understand limits. They aren’t bound by morality or conscience or empathy, because they’ve never had to be. For them life is about accumulating, hoarding, and controlling institutions, people’s lives, and what we can and can’t do with them. It’s not about money because they already have more money than they’ll ever need. It’s nothing more than sport.” Julia paused for a long beat. “That’s the kind of crowd I’ve been running with.”

  Camille was nearly rendered speechless, needing to take a deep breath before she could respond. “Well Jules, thanks for freaking me the hell out.”

  “I haven’t freaked you out yet,” Julia declared as she headed toward the bedroom door. “Just wait until you get some wine in me. I’ll tell you some stuff that will positively blow your mind.”

  Camille swallowed hard. “You certainly know how to build suspense. And I can’t say that I particularly like it.”

  “I’m sorry,” Julia said contritely. “I shouldn’t have even gone th
ere. Just forget I said any of that.”

  “Not likely.”

  “Okay. At least forget about it until dinner tomorrow.”

  “Why do you think things would be so different if I had been around?” Camille asked, not yet ready to forget.

  Julia appeared to briefly lose herself in thought. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.”

  “And that ledge you were talking about? Do I still need to pull you back in?”

  “Believe it or not you’ve already started to,” Julia said with a deep smile. “But more about that tomorrow. I really do have to go.”

  “Not before I tell you something,” Camille said, stopping Julia in the doorway.

  “I’m all ears.”

  “Thank you for being there for me this morning. Thank you for always being there for me, but especially this morning. I don’t think I could have managed it without you.” Camille felt a lump in her throat and knew that if she said any more the dam of emotions that had held up for the past few hours would burst wide open.

  Julia dabbed at the corner of her eye with her shirt sleeve. “The feeling is more than mutual, my friend.”

  After another extended hug, Julia walked down the staircase.

  Camille lingered in the bedroom long after she was gone. Though their conversation ended on a positive note, it still left her with an uneasy feeling. She couldn’t remember a time when Julia spoke in such vague terms, especially when it came to personal matters. And though most of the conversation centered on Julia’s work colleagues, Camille knew there was indeed something much more personal behind it all.

  She couldn’t pretend to know what that something was. She hoped it was nothing more than some pre-midlife crisis that made Julia want to quit her job and join the Cirque De Soleil. It was a preposterous notion, but one that Camille knew she could handle.

  In reality, she knew that the situation was likely not the least bit preposterous, nor was any kind of pre-midlife crisis. And considering Julia’s hesitation in revealing that situation, Camille wondered, with mounting fear, if it would ultimately turn out to be more than she could handle.

  CHAPTER 8