“It can’t be that bad.”
“Why would he want me on the show so badly if it wasn’t to make fun of me?” Leaning to my left, I nervously fingered the zipper on the gray garment bag beside me. “Never fear, though – I have some tricks up my sleeve.”
“He seemed perfectly nice when he came in to chat with us a bit ago,” Sara argued. “And I don’t want to know what sort of tricks you’re planning.”
“Nothing to be alarmed about.” My defensive nature caused me to sit a little straighter, but I allowed a smile to pull at the corners of my mouth as I thought about my little secret. “You thought Jamie was perfectly nice?”
“Sure, he was nice,” Rachel muttered. “What was with his hair, though? It’s never that color on TV.”
Chuckling a bit, I wrapped my arms across my abdomen. “He does something to it. That happened last time I was here, too – when he came in the dressing room, he had the gray at the temples. Get on the stage, it’s vanished.”
“Showbiz people and their vanity,” Sara huffed, moving over to study an autographed photo from Mick Jagger.
“I know, tell me about it,” I muttered, standing up to glance in the mirror, taking care to fluff my curls a bit around my shoulders. “How do I look? Stunningly approachable, or pretentiously pampered?”
“You look like a nutty fruitcake,” Sara sighed.
“Don’t listen to her,” Rachel insisted. “You look like a gorgeous angel sent straight from heaven.”
Tears threatened the back of my eyes as I looked at my sister-in-law. “Thank you, Rachel.”
“You’re only acting like a nutty fruitcake,” she added with a wink.
“Five minutes,” came the knock on the door. With an air of determination, I faced my companions and gave a tremulous smile.
“Well, ladies – this is it. Wish me luck.”
“Knock ‘em dead,” was all Sara said as they walked out the door, ready to take their places for the show. The instant they were gone, I reached down for the duffel bag Lex had brought me about an hour before, giggling quietly at my perfect little joke.
-§-
Waiting in the wings for Jamie to invite me in, I contemplated the past couple of weeks. When I returned home from Rosalie’s date and informed Cole what I had learned about Dr. McCavin’s precious picture, he was quick to tell me that he wasn’t surprised in the least. When the shock registered on my face and I asked him what he meant by that comment, he simply told me that Dr. McCavin seemed a little too perfect to be the doctor. In fact, he seemed like one of those, “I’m not a doctor, but I do play one on TV,” types.
As for his thoughts on Tracy blogging my private business, he told me that I should have just consented to let him be my biggest fan and then I wouldn’t have needed to worry. As though Tracy would have simply stepped aside and let him hold the title.
Now, though, I was mere moments away from either completely humiliating myself or becoming a legend. (In my own mind, at least.) Lex had been very reluctant to grant my special request for this appearance, but I insisted that he trust me. After all, my previous press appearances had managed to turn out successful despite some very blatant hiccups, and I was the reason he had his job in the first place. He really didn’t like me mentioning that fact, but it was true and I wasn’t about to let him forget it.
So, there I stood, patiently waiting in my yellow sundress with the blue satin ribbon, hand resting protectively on my beautiful basketball baby bump. I had finally found a way to wear one of my purchases from Belly Scene, and thanks to Lex’s assistance, I was also in the possession of some proper “special gear.” I looked pregnant. Really, truly, heavily pregnant.
What a hoot!
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, I know you’ve been eagerly anticipating the return of our next guest. I’m excited to get the latest news from our bookish friend. Please welcome the charming Camdyn Taylor.”
I strolled out as though I owned the place, pleased with the open-mouthed shock that registered across the countenance of my sister-in-law. I’m sure it was a little astonishing to witness my frame go from barely pregnant to practically waddle-ready, and I flashed a big smile as I stepped over to Jamie. He embraced me rather timidly and looked down at my huge baby bump, while I simply continued to grin and gave a little wave to the crowd. Some laughter rippled through the audience, and I smoothed the back of my dress as I settled into my chair, daintily crossing my legs and turning towards Jamie.
“Something’s different about you,” he stated. “I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Oh, I had a manicure,” I announced, holding my hand out across his desk. “What do you think?”
“It’s great, really, but I don’t think that’s it.” I pulled my hand back and placed it gently across my fake abdomen, drumming my fingers across the yellow fabric. “I can’t seem to put my finger on it, but maybe it will jump out at me in a bit.”
“Perhaps.” I grinned slyly. “How have you been, Jamie?”
“Good, but I don’t want to talk about me. I want to talk about you. Have you upchucked in any interesting places lately?”
“Not today,” I stated simply. He laughed and leaned into his desk a little, propping himself up with his elbow.
“But as it turns out, you might have had a good reason for blowing chunks in the first place. Trent Bauer still might not appreciate it, but it lends a little sympathy to your situation.”
“Yes, I wasn’t aware at the time, but as it turns out, I am pregnant.”
“That’s it! I knew it was something,” he said, looking to the audience for a reaction. “To be fair, though, this seems a bit extreme, unless you’re having quadruplets. Should we contact the reality television people?”
“Goodness, no! There are enough embarrassing videos streaming around about me as it is.”
“You really should stop doing embarrassing things.”
“Shouldn’t I? You know, I tell myself that a lot, but then life just sort of gets in the way.”
“Like this dude at the theatre?” he wondered, running the video footage of me attempting to rid myself of Adam Vanderhuff’s advances.
“That?” I laughed, waving my hand as though I was dismissing his suggestion. “When you go to the theatre, don’t you expect impromptu performance pieces? I thought it was original and interesting.”
“Very classy, with the karate chopping,” he added.
“I’m glad you think so. I try to be the epitome of high class, really.”
“Well, I think you’ve managed it to an impressive degree.”
Shaking my head slightly, I gave a knowing grimace to the camera before I responded. “Thank you, Jamie.”
“We tried to get Gwen Stefani to come in so you two could impersonate one another.”
“But she didn’t want to vomit on television, right?” I sent a sympathetic look in his direction. “How long have you been running with that joke now, several weeks?” The audience burst into laughter, and it was only after the words passed my lips that I stopped to ponder whether making fun of him was a good idea.
“Probably about as long as your average relationship lasts,” he rebounded, flinging the ball back into my court. “I don’t see your husband here today. Don’t tell me you got rid of him already.”
“Oh, no, he’s a keeper,” I insisted, daring a look in Rachel and Sara’s direction.
“That’s good to hear, because I worry about you. Sometimes I lie awake at night just thinking about you and hoping you’re safe.”
“That’s really creepy,” I interjected, wrinkling up my nose for the audience’s benefit.
“Funny, that’s what my wife says.” He smiled at me good-naturedly, and I widened my eyes.
“You have a wife?”
Taking a stack of cue cards in his hand, he tapped them against his desk a couple times. “It’s hard to believe someone would want to be with me, is that it? I’m hurt, Camdyn, I really am. And after I spent six hours readin
g your book over the weekend.”
“Did you really? I don’t believe you.”
“Well, no, but… I just assumed that was the proper amount of time a stalker should devote to his or her subject, since that’s how long you said you listened to Bublé songs the last time you were here.” I didn’t even have to give the audience looks anymore to get them going – they were giggling along on their own.
“Is Michael Bublé here today?” I asked mischievously, glancing behind me in the direction of the dressing rooms.
“Are you kidding? That guy put a restraining order against us because of you. If I get within 50 feet of him, I’d probably end up behind bars.”
“Seriously? I thought he was lovely.”
“He was terrified.” Even he thought the tone of our conversation was funny, because he stopped talking and looked down at his cards, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “So, let’s get to a more serious subject.”
“More serious than stalking?” I wondered, turning to the audience and giving them a little smirk.
“Yes, I’m starting to be a little scared of you, so I need to change the subject. Your publishing company tells us that some major movie cast announcements will be made in the next two weeks.”
“Really? That’s fascinating.”
He plunked his cards down on the desk and folded his arms across his chest, staring intently in my direction. “I’m starting to think all you ever do is listen to Bublé songs. Do you talk to your publishing company?”
“Mostly when they’re scolding me for doing something embarrassing.”
“So every day then.”
“Basically,” I agreed with a smile. “Lex has me on speed dial.”
“Because he’s in love with you,” Jamie deduced, raising his eyebrows as he waited for my reaction.
“No, he’s just scared of me, too.” Reaching over, I snatched the cards from his desk and started flipping through them, allowing a perplexed look to cross my features. “These are the things you want to ask me? You should have just called me on the phone. They’re not even interesting.”
“Are you seriously critiquing my show prep?”
“No,” I said slowly, drawing out the word. “I’m not critiquing it per se, but it does seem a bit tedious. Do you think anyone really wants to hear about me throwing up? It’s lame.”
“Lame,” he repeated loudly.
“Absolutely, and this one,” I continued, holding a card out in front of his face. “We’ve already been over the proposal thing before, haven’t we? Isn’t this just rehashing old news?”
“Well, apparently I’m completely incompetent,” he complained, looking over at his band. “Have we ever had such a nervy guest, honestly?”
“I don’t think so,” the lead guitarist answered as he grinned over at me, offering a wink for good measure.
“Can I help you out a bit, Jamie?” I interjected. “I really don’t want to see you tank.”
“By all means,” he stated, spreading out his hands as though the show were mine for the taking.
“Okay, let’s see,” I stalled, suddenly not knowing what to do.
Way to go, Camdyn – just start being a blabbermouth and acting all cocky and look what you accomplish! Now you’re the one in the hot seat, and you’ve got nothing, sister.
Ugh, why do I have to be so…me?
“You know, I happen to play the guitar myself,” I blurted.
“Did you take lessons?”
Smoothing my dress over my knees, I began to feel a bit nervous. “No, I taught myself a few things – riffs, actually.”
“You taught yourself a few guitar riffs,” he repeated dubiously.
“Yes. I’d love to play one for you.”
“By all means, let’s take you over there by Jay and see what happens,” he offered, rising behind his desk and motioning towards the band. Feeling somewhat reluctant now that I had volunteered, I stood and glanced down at my protruding bump, wondering if it had been a mistake after all. Still, to a chorus of cheers I stepped across to where Jay waited, holding his guitar out to me expectantly. While Jamie and Jay chatted amiably about my awkwardness in trying to play pregnant guitar, I looped the strap over my shoulder and let a chord stream out.
“What have you got?” Jamie wanted to know. Picking out a few notes, I grinned at him.
“How about a little ‘Crazy Train?’” I questioned, allowing the guitar to slide to my side around that very awkward protruding fake stomach. As I strummed through the notes, Jamie pretended to be dancing and Jay nodded along. After a few more seconds, I paused and looked out to the audience, listening to their laughter and applause.
“I’m impressed, and a little stunned,” Jamie immediately reacted. “I think I liked you better when you were just a nut.”
“What?!” I exclaimed, letting out a sharp laugh.
“I’m kidding, Camdyn. Don’t go wacko on me.”
“As if I would…”
“Oh, no, of course you wouldn’t,” he said exaggeratedly, rolling his eyes for effect. “I insist you come back in a month, so we can discuss these casting announcements. Plus, I’m assuming you will have gained at least 300 pounds by then, judging by the change in your appearance from last time. I’m making you promise.”
“You know what? I’m feeling generous.”
“So it’s a promise?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You heard it, folks,” he added, clamping his hand on my shoulder. “The adorable, zany, unpredictable, but never wacko Camdyn Taylor. We love you.”
-§-
“I nearly died when you walked in with that bodysuit on,” Sara informed me, taking a bite of her spinach and artichoke flatbread pizza. “When you said you had a surprise up your sleeve, that was not what I was expecting.”
Rachel nodded in acknowledgement, sipping on her water. “Oh, Camdyn, I’m so glad you decided to bring us with you. You’re hilarious when you’re doing those interviews.”
“You didn’t think it was too much?” I wondered, stabbing a piece of penne pasta with my fork. Rachel giggled and shook her head.
“Of course it was too much, but I wouldn’t expect any less. It reminded me of the night I met you, when you played ‘Crazy Train.’”
“I heard about that night enough that I really wished I had been there,” Sara lamented. “I’ll never forget when Tony came home and told me that Cole seemed to have a serious girlfriend. I wanted to see it for myself. Now I wish I could un-see it, because y’all totally disgust me.”
“Are you serious?” I gasped, coughing into my hand as a piece of pasta became momentarily lodged in my throat.
“Yeah, you’re a little over the top,” Rachel agreed, helping herself to my garlic breadstick. “Never mind that, though, because he’s not here so we can act like normal people.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that statement, because I was pretty certain we acted like normal people most of the time.
“Have you thought about baby names yet?” Sara wanted to know.
“Um, no, I can barely remember mine at the moment.” I gave a short laugh. “Cole and I are waiting until we know whether the baby is a girl or a boy before we start debating names. Please tell me you aren’t all organized and decided already?”
“Baxter or Faith,” Sara stated almost immediately.
“Overachiever,” I muttered. “Have you figured that out, too, Rachel?”
“That Sara’s an overachiever?” she asked with a laugh. “No, we don’t have our names picked out yet. To be fair, though, Sara’s been thinking about it a long time.”
“You’ve always dreamed of being a mother?” I questioned, giving her a teasing grin.
“Not really, but we have been trying to have a baby for three years.”
Reality sunk in immediately, and I took a calming breath against the sudden racing of my heart. Shouldn’t I have felt guilty that I didn’t know that fact about my friend?
“Wow, three
years,” I said almost inaudibly. “I had no idea.”
“Well, it’s not something you brag about,” she answered with a smile. “Then people like you come along and you don’t even have to try – you just wind up pregnant days after your whirlwind fast food wedding.”
“Sara!” Rachel piped up, glancing apologetically at me. Sara immediately reached over and placed her hand on top of mine against the table.
“I’m sorry, Camdyn. I was just expressing my frustration – not directing it at you personally.”
“Yeah, I get it,” I assured her, even though I felt a little hurt by her assertion. It wasn’t my fault that I became pregnant so easily, after all.
“How do you think Charlotte’s going to take to the baby?” Sara asked Rachel, pulling her hand away from mine. I nervously folded my own hands together under the table, almost wishing they would change the subject.
“Who knows,” Rachel breathed. “She’s old enough that I hope she just accepts her sister or brother and doesn’t become jealous.”
“Boy, your mom’s excited, Rachel,” Sara added. “Between the two of you, she’s on baby high alert.”
“Yeah, she is excited,” Rachel agreed. “What about your mom, Camdyn?”
The air in the room took on a thickness just then, and I could have sworn that it smacked me in the face.
“Rita?”
“Yeah, Rita,” Sara confirmed, picking up the pizza once again.
“We haven’t really talked about it. I’m not really sure she cares.” I felt my skin get clammy beneath my cotton t-shirt, and I attempted to drop the subject by retrieving my lemonade and sipping it slowly.
“Of course she cares,” Rachel insisted. A split second’s hesitation revealed the fact that I wasn’t so certain about sharing my heart with these two, and the thought instantly brought tears to my eyes. Not wanting them to misunderstand my sudden emotion, I coughed into my hand to give myself a momentary respite.
“I’m not really sure Rita cares about anything,” I said as simply as I could, again raising my lemonade. Rachel’s sympathetic glance told me that she was getting ready to add her thoughts, but she didn’t have the chance.
For No Reason (The Camdyn Series Book 4) Page 15
