Camp Payback

by J. K. Rock

  I set down the herbs in the prep area near the sink. “Want me to wash this for you?”

  He nodded distractedly. Javier was so cute with a hair net holding back his dark waves. He filled plastic dishes with homemade salsa while another guy working in the kitchen chopped tomatoes and onions.

  For Javier.

  It hadn’t escaped my notice that my seventeen-year-old crush had taken over the cooking. I hadn’t seen him do anything to put himself in charge other than get right to work the second we arrived. He’d organized the food we’d brought; asked how we could help; and then turned on fryers, griddles, and ovens. He’d put together salads, cooked eggs, and grilled chicken. I’d seen him making crepe batter, kneading dough, and roasting vegetables.

  It was clear he knew what to do in a kitchen. Which was why the fifty-year-old guy with a chef’s apron hustled over to take the cilantro from me and prep it for Javier.

  “How’d the salsa turn out?” I asked, hurrying over to help some girls at the counter who ordered “double dry” coffees.

  Did that mean they’d just eat the Styrofoam straight?

  “Fantastic,” the older guy answered my question, even as Javier shook his head and said, “Needed more jalapeño.”

  The older guy grinned at that.

  A chime went off, and Javier moved toward the wall of ovens. “Stand back,” he ordered, pulling open two of the doors.

  Steam wafted out, along with a scent so intoxicating I couldn’t inhale it enough. Moist heat filled the mobile kitchen.

  “Oh, wow,” I breathed, drooling over rows and rows of stuffed crepes on baking sheets. “What’s in them?”

  “Gorgonzola and porcini mushrooms,” Javier answered, pulling out the trays to cool. “Can you add that to the chalkboard menu out front?”

  “Consider it done.” Grabbing a stub of chalk, I hurried outside and erased the morning’s special—bran muffins that had been imported from some organic L.A. bakery—and wrote in “Fresh Salsa with Chips” on one line and “Gorgonzola Crepes” on the other. I had a crowd around me before I was done, but I think it was the scent that brought them and not my partially legible script.

  “Allie!”

  I turned, expecting to see Marianne returning from her smoke break. I found a brunette with jet black curls instead.

  Cassandra Pierce.

  “It’s Alex. Hey.” I gulped, accidentally swallowing my gum. I also dropped the chalk. A coughing fit ensued.

  Not pretty.

  “Can we get a drink?” Cassandra took my arm and ushered me back into the catering truck through the side door. “You must have water around here?”

  Javier looked our way while his kitchen helper tossed me a bottle of water. I took a seat on an empty orange crate tucked near the pantry. Thankfully, Marianne returned to handle the sudden crowd at the window. Half the movie town wanted to try the homemade crepes.

  “Sorry,” I croaked after a sip of water, careful not to cough on the assistant director lady anymore. Amazingly, my Wholesome Home manners flashed into my brain when I wanted to be very well-behaved for once.

  “It’s fine.” She studied me as I drank more, tipping her head one way and then the other. “You had a signed release from a guardian when you were here last time, right?”

  I nodded, and behind us, Marianne rushed between the counter and the crepes, selling Javier’s specialty while he went back to work at the mixing bowl.

  “Good.” Cassandra straightened. “We lost an actress with a small speaking role this week, and now that I see you, I think you’re sort of similar to her from certain angles.”

  “Really?” I think I would have sold my soul and moved to Hollywood at that moment if she’d asked. I could already see myself at my first movie premiere…

  “Could you be in a couple of scenes that actress was supposed to be in? Non-speaking, of course.”

  From across the kitchen, Javier turned off the mixer. I could tell he was paying attention. I felt special. Grown up.

  Too bad I already had a job I was supposed to be doing today. Heart sinking, I couldn’t imagine how to say no to this.

  “Why ‘of course’?” Javier asked Cassandra. “Alex could do the lines.” He wiped his hands on his white apron and walked closer.

  Hope fluttered in my chest. Or maybe it was happiness that Javier would stick up for me like that.

  “I’m sure she could.” Cassandra hit a button on her buzzing cell phone and checked the screen. “But we’d need a different release signed, and she doesn’t have a guardian on site. Plus, we’re shooting the scenes this afternoon. We’re cutting it close on time as it is.”

  “I’m supposed to be helping Javier.” Standing, I glanced behind us at Marianne who collected cash and poured drinks.

  “We’ll handle it.” Javier put a hand on the back of my shirt and gently propelled me toward the door. “I’d rather see you on the big screen.”

  “You’re so busy—”

  “Go,” he urged, his expression stern, arms folded. “I mean it.”

  “Helena’s going to kill me.” I hung back long enough to kiss Javier on the cheek. “But thank you.”

  “Great.” Cassandra held the door for me. “We’d better hurry if you’re going to get to wardrobe in time.”

  She didn’t have to tell me twice.

  I raced down Main Street at her side, gathering intel on my character as we went. The scene we were shooting was the emotional aftermath of a shoot-out, and—the best part of all—I’d be dying on screen. The scene would be set to a musical score, and there would be slow-motion close-ups of characters falling to the ground. Later, they’d add in the main characters’ reactions, but today, I would get to fall to the ground like I’d been shot. A close-up of the original actress could be interspersed with my scene.

  But for today, I could be Juliet. Cleopatra. Ophelia.

  A big deal.

  I nearly chewed a hole in my cheek. When I got in the wardrobe tent and changed into my costume, my parents’ letter fell from my pocket. My mom’s handwriting on the envelope felt like disapproval. I’m sure she would have been disappointed in me for ditching camp to help Javier. But then ditching him for a chance to be in a movie? They’d call that self-centered and attention-seeking. Like they should talk.

  I forced those thoughts aside, stuffed the letter back in my shorts’ pocket, and pulled on my long skirt. By the time I buttoned a faded cotton blouse, I’d started to relax. I was lucky to have another chance in front of the camera. No way would I let my parents’ past criticisms ruin it, especially when they were half a world away.

  I had a quick once-over in hair and makeup that amounted to scrubbing away all traces of glitter lip gloss and adding dark smudges under my eyes to make me look gaunt and tired. As I began to look the part of a turn-of-the-century miner’s daughter, I started to feel the part.

  It was weird. And cool.

  “Alex, we’re ready for you!” Cassandra called through the front flap of the big wardrobe tent.

  I hurried outside into the sunlight, following the assistant director toward a green hillside behind Main Street where the close-ups would be shot. Lights and cameras on dollies were already set up. Other machines I didn’t recognize ringed the patch of grass where a few actors stood around getting last-minute adjustments from stylists.

  And that’s where I headed. Center stage. Where all the lights were shining. A thrill shot through me. Because for a few hours at least, I didn’t have to be me.

  Javier

  The rest of the day disappeared as fast as the steam from our food tent. My homemade salsa impressed the caterer so much he even offered me a job as a commis, the lowest level cook. Lots of chopping and prep work but still…a start. Even my last foster family would have been impressed. But more importantly, the extra income would help my mom when she was released. It wasn’t until one of the other cooks swatted me with a spatula that I wiped off my goofy grin and got back to work. I didn’t see Alex aga
in until I’d nearly packed up the truck.

  “Sorry, Javier,” she called. I whirled, more excited to see her than I wanted to admit. “I didn’t mean to leave you so long.” She bounced on the balls of her feet, her cheeks flushed. “But it was amazing.” Her head tipped skyward, and her eyes out-sparkled the lowering sun. “Can’t believe I got the job, even if it was for only a day. Plus the assistant director, Cassandra, said I have potential. That maybe I should audition for this performing arts school she went to.”

  I forced myself to look away and hefted another container into the back of the van. Car doors slammed and engines revved as the milling cast left the lot. “That’s amazing. And I got offered a job, too.”

  Arms wrapped around me from behind, and my muscles tightened, my brain in a tailspin. Friends, I reminded myself. Just friends.

  “That’s so great, Javier! Maybe you’ll have a cooking show someday. Javier: Hot and Spicy.” Her giggle vibrated along my spine. “Looks like we both found out what we’re good at. The assistant director said I have potential. Can you imagine?”

  I turned. Imagine it? She was already a star. “Yeah. It’s too bad you can’t do more.”

  Alex twined her hands in mine. “Who says I have to stop? I’ve got a plan.” She nodded to a waving group of extras, then leveled her megawatt smile on me.

  My fingers curled around hers. Traitors. “Why do I have a feeling this includes me?”

  “You’re going to be the star. Next to me of course.” She popped a bubble, the grape smell making me want a taste. My eyes dragged themselves off her lips. “I’m going to convince Gollum to let us do a camp-wide production with sets, makeup, costumes—everything. How do you feel about playing Tony in West Side Story?”

  “Like I’d rather swallow Gollum’s whistle. I’m not an actor. Or a singer.”

  “So let me teach you.” Alex leaned against the van door beside me, the brush of her shoulder electric. “Plus, you sing when you cook, and I happen to know you have a fantastic voice. If Helena gives you the time, you’ll do it right? The rehearsals should be after dinner.”

  I stared at my shuffling feet. I’d forgotten she’d overheard me. “I’ll help. But that’s it.”

  “Yes! You’ll make the perfect Tony to my Maria.” She patted my cheek, then trotted to the front of the van and slid inside.

  Her smiling profile appeared in the side mirror, and I couldn’t help but grin, too. She was incorrigible. There. I’d actually used one of those S.A.T. words Helena had me studying. But Alex was also irresistible. How could I say no?

  But spending more time with Alex…that was definitely a game-changer.

  The ride home was quiet. I checked Alex out a few times to make sure she was okay…and that her shorts were as short as ever. A “hell, yeah” on both counts. But her faraway look meant she wasn’t thinking of me. I should have been happy, but I missed her non-stop chatter.

  “I’ll help you unload the pans,” she offered when we stopped behind the mess hall. The deepening dusk washed the camp grounds in shadows. The faint sounds of kids enjoying some free-time filled the evening air, laughter and muffled shouts followed by long shhhs and giggles.

  “I’m fine on my own,” I insisted, wanting it to be true. The door squealed open, and I shoved the keys in my pocket as I hopped out.

  Alex met me at the back of the van, her fists on her narrow hips. I wondered if I could span them with both hands, then pushed the thought away.

  “Let me help, Javier.”

  I jerked open the rear doors and kept my eyes on the dim interior. “Thanks, but I’ve got this. Hang out with your friends. You worked hard.” Spending so much time with Alex had destroyed my will to resist her. I was a breath away from kissing her.

  My pulse sped when she stepped closer. I should have known rejection would have the opposite effect on her. My tingling fingers knotted behind my back. Look, don’t touch. Don’t touch.

  “So did you. Besides, I want to be with you.” Her white teeth glinted as she smiled.

  She was so freaking close. I felt the warmth of her body and her exhale as she adjusted a slipping tank strap. How the hell could I say anything when my only coherent thought was, I want you, too?

  Her palm flattened against my pounding heart, her words flowing over and through my overheated brain. She was hot. But more than that, she was goofy, smart, talkative, spontaneous, stubborn, and a serious pain-in-the-ass. And she’d gotten under my skin in the worst way.

  It was only until she quieted that I realized I was staring. She rubbed her foot against the back of her calf but didn’t look away.

  “I want you, too,” I finally admitted, then pulled her soft body against me. Amazing how it held so much steel. I cupped the back of her head and gave her the kiss I’d fantasized about all day. Oh, hell.

  Her arms wrapped around my neck when my lips opened hers. She tasted like berry sorbet on a hot summer night. I couldn’t get enough. My hands plunged into her long waves and crushed her closer still.

  My breath came hard and fast, my pulse speeding. We were already in a remote spot, but I turned us so that I hid her from view, her body as light in my arms as the wind ruffling the swaying trees.

  Alex tasted as sweet as cotton candy, and she shook against me like an autumn leaf. I held her with one hand and slid the other across her smooth stomach. When her fingers tugged up my shirt and wandered up my chest, it was my turn to shake, though I tried to hide it.

  When one of her legs wrapped around mine, I snapped out of my red fog. She might want to play with fire, but I wouldn’t let her get burned. I pulled away and peered down at her. With her lips parted in surprise, her eyes wide and face flaming, she’d never looked more beautiful. Or more wounded.

  “I’m sorry.” And I was. Alex might be playing, but life was no game for me. I shouldn’t have led her on, let her think I’d be the guy she needed for her last, wild summer.

  “Don’t be.” She marched to the back of the van, her spine straight. “I came on to you, and you didn’t like what you got. I get it. You just want to be friends.”

  I touched her arm and ducked in front of her before she could grab an empty container. “No. You don’t get it. Look. The truth is that I like you. Too much.”

  The corners of her lips lifted. “Oh.”

  “Oh.” I couldn’t resist returning her slow grin.

  “So, what do we do about it?” Her question sounded more like a challenge. And I could never resist one.

  In this case, however, I had to. “Nothing. This can’t happen again. Ever. Okay?”

  A light sheen covered her forehead. “No. Not okay. Who said you get to decide what happens to us?”

  “There is no us.” I flinched inside at how cruel that sounded, but I was pissed at myself for letting things go too far.

  Again. When was I going to control myself? My feelings? I could blame it on my age. Hormones. But I felt older than boys my age. Had been through more. So why did Alex get past all my defenses?

  “Right,” she snorted. “You won’t even fool yourself with that lie.”

  True, but I forced my mind off what I wanted and focused on my mother. She needed me. If Alex’s famous parents found out about us, they’d turn me into a bad boy and go viral with it. Not that they could mention my name legally. But some of the campers would post about us and everyone would know anyway. It’d make Gollum mad enough to send me away and, worse yet, Alex would be in trouble, too.

  “‘Signs your child is dating someone undesirable: Your child is acting differently. Your child is keeping secrets.’ Sound familiar?” I intoned.

  Alex scowled. “You spent way too much time on my parents’ blog.”

  I crossed my arms. “Yep. I don’t think I’d make the Wholesome Home cut, do you?”

  Alex scuffed the dirt so hard it rose around her shoes in a brown cloud. “Like that matters?! I’m sick of living by those rules, and I came here to get away from them. And now you’re enforcing them?
When do I get to call the shots in my life? I thought you of all people would get that.”

  I caught her neatly by the elbow when she spun hard enough to stumble. Helena opened the back door with a trash bag in hand, spotted us, then eased the screen shut. I sent her a silent thank you.

  “I do get that. But we’re no good for each other. Besides, that TV crew is supposed to show up and film you any time. If they caught us together…there’s too much against us.”

  “Then why does it feel right?” When Alex brushed away a tear, the backs of my eyes pricked. I hated that I’d made her cry. Plus, she had a point. I’d been forced to follow other people’s rules all my life and so had she.

  “Can we just hang out—take things slow? Friends with—uh—potential?”

  Alex blew her nose and shot me a speculative glance. “Doubt it. But at least we’ll still see each other.”

  I held in a groan. Spending time with Alex and keeping us from going too far…it’d be an impossible feat. But I couldn’t deny how much fun we’d had today—both together and separately—and that I didn’t want it to stop.

  “So you want to help me with these pans?” I tossed a small one to her, then ducked when she pantomimed hitting me over the head with it. “What the hell?”

  “I thought I’d knock some sense into you.” Her sassy grin was back in place.

  “Good luck with that.” I stacked a couple of containers and headed toward the lit kitchen, Alex hot on my heels. There was nothing sensible about “us.” Maybe I needed that blow to the head after all.

  ……………….

  A half-hour later, we stopped in front of the juniper trees that guarded either side of her cabin. The smell of fresh earth and decayed pine needles hung heavy in the humid night air. It was one of those moments that felt as still as a snapshot, and I kind of wished it was. Next month, I’d want this mental picture of Alex, her eyes flashing as bright as her smile, her hands gesturing for emphasis as she described her West Side Story plans. She’d been thrilled when Helena gave a cautious thumbs-up to the idea of me joining the group. Especially when Alex mentioned it’d be supervised.