Tamsyn Bester - Precious Consequences

Cameron bursts into laughter and I look at him bemused. “What’s so funny?”

“You,” he says emphatically. “I can almost hear what you’re thinking and I know it’s not virtuous. Your body betrays you too easily, especially that gorgeous face.”

“Oh, really? And pray tell, what is my traitorous body telling you?”

His eyes grow a little darker. “You’re thinking about what my ink looks like under my shirt. And you’re wondering just how ‘cocky’ I am.”

I stare at him, my mouth dropping open and then closing again like a fish. How the hell did he do that?

“No, I’m not,” I lie. “You couldn’t be more wrong.” My shaky voice exposes my omission and even I don’t believe the words coming out of my mouth.

Cameron parks his truck, turns off the ignition and faces me. I notice then that his eyes are a mixture of blue and gray, giving them a mercurial glint, like they could possibly change with his moods. “Ya know, I really hope you’re not studying Law.”

I frown, caught off guard by his statement. “Why’s that?”

“Because you suck at lying.”

A bubble of laughter bursts free from my chest and I cup my mouth to silence my snort. I reach for the door and climb out, catching my breath. Cameron meets me in front of his truck. “I need your number, and your address,” he says.

“A serial killer and a stalker?” I tease, reaching into my bag for a pen. I write down my number and my address before handing the piece of paper over. He takes out his phone, punches my number in and I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. He cuts the call.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say. “And for having my car towed.”

“No problem. I’ll have to think of an appropriate way for you to return the favor.” He winks.

“Yeah, whatever you’re thinking, it’s not going to happen. So why don’t we say our goodbyes and go our separate ways?”

Cameron shakes his head. “No, that just won’t work.”

He reaches into my bag and pulls out another piece of paper, scribbling something before handing it back to me. I read the messy script.

U.O.ME.

Signed: Cameron Argent.

When I look up, Cameron is already walking away. He turns back to look at me, his shoulders shaking with his silent laughter. Bastard. I can’t fight the smile that breaks across my face. After an emotional start at the daycare center, I feel better. And it’s all thanks to Cameron Argent.

** ** **

I make it to class with fifteen minutes to spare. The professor hasn’t arrived yet, so I walk in and choose a seat in the middle. A few more students huddle together in the back row of desks, but other than that, there aren’t many of us. I had no idea what to expect from my first ‘Journalism Fundamentals’ class but I’m excited nonetheless. I take a seat and bend down to pull out my notebook when a commotion at the door stops me.

A girl walks in, fury written all over her face, and spins around to glare at the guy behind her. Her black hair is tied in a messy bun on top of her head and she’s wearing gray yoga pants with a black tank top. The other students grow silent, engrossed with the scene in the front of the classroom.

“Fuck you, Marcus!” the girl yells. “Don’t call me ever again!”

She turns away from him but he grabs her arm and spins her around. “Baby, please,” he pleads. “Don’t do this. We can work this out. It’s just a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?” she spits back. “Please, tell me how I can misunderstand catching you and my roommate doing it doggie style in my dorm room! I’d love to see you explain yourself out of this one!”

My eyes grow wide. This looks like an episode out of ‘Jersey Shore’, minus the fake tans.

“I’m sorry, baby,” the guy whines. “It won’t happen again.”

The girl looks at him like he’s completely crazy. “Oh, yes it will. Only this time, you’ll be single to fuck whoever you want, you lying piece of shit!” Her hand lifts and a loud ‘smack’ echoes through the classroom as it makes contact with the guy's cheek. There’s a collective gasp followed by a round of applause and the guy has no choice but to leave, his wounded pride tucked away in is back pocket. The door closes and the girl takes a dramatic bow. She makes her way towards me and falls into the seat next to mine.

“Can you believe that fucker?” she asks rhetorically. “Sticks his dick into someone else’s hoo-ha and thinks I’ll take him back.” Her chest heaves slightly as she tries to reign in her anger. “And you know what the worst part is?” She looks at me but doesn’t wait for me to answer. “He’s got Limp Dick Syndrome!”

The other students, still listening to her outburst, break into another round of hysterics and soon we’re all laughing. The girl sticks out her hand. “I’m Hannah,” she says. “And we’re going to be the best of friends.”

I smile back, liking her immediately. “Hayley.”

The professor walks in and the noise dies down. Since it is our first class, the professor just goes over the syllabus and class doesn’t last the full hour. I walk out and Hannah steps up to my side, threading her arm through mine. “C’mon, Hayley, let’s go grab coffee. We have an hour off before our photojournalism class,” she says.

“How do you know that’s my next class?”

Her eyes roll. “I looked at your schedule,” she pauses. “And now that I know we’ll be best friends, I’m going to buy you a Latte and tell you all my inappropriate secrets, and what turns me on.”

Oh yes, I definitely like this girl.

We take a seat in the crowded coffee shop, sipping our Lattes, and Hannah launches into a full discussion about her turbulent relationship with Marcus. I find myself laughing at her dramatic reenactments of their sex life, while she returns the dirty looks of passing students who happen to overhear her. Something about the way she talks so freely, and without restraint, reminds me of who I was before. But not in a sad way. It only makes me wish I could find the courage to let go of the secrets that I’m ashamed of, and embrace the direction my life has taken.

When the remainder of our classes are done, Hannah gives me a ride home and I’m surprised to find my Mini parked outside my grandmother's house. I pull out my phone and see a message from an unknown number.

I made sure your car was dropped off. Maybe next time, you can give me a ride.

Cameron.

I smile.

My fingers glide over the screen as I respond.

Tnks. But I don’t get into cars with serial killers or stalkers. Better luck next time ;) x

He doesn’t reply and as much as I’d like for our banter to continue, I’m glad it doesn’t. He’s nice to look at, that’s for damn sure, but I can’t afford becoming ‘interested’ in more than a possible friendship, especially when I come as a ‘2 for the price of 1’ special.

~ Hayley ~

It takes some time for Ari and I to get into a good routine, but after two weeks we finally have it right. My classes are going well, for now at least, and Ari has adjusted to being at daycare three days a week. Unfortunately, she has also hit the ‘Terrible Two’s’ that I’ve heard many mothers complain about and has been making life a little more challenging than usual. I haven’t seen Cameron again and every time I drop Ari off in the mornings, I find myself looking for his blue Ford truck. Oddly enough, I know it won’t be there, and that I won’t see him but it doesn’t stop me from looking for him anyway.

I pull my car into the parking lot of Ari’s daycare center. I pick her up on Wednesday’s after my last class and have made it our weekly date. I’m taking her to the park, excited to spend some time with my little girl. I cut the ignition and step out of my car, but am halted by what sounds like a woman yelling. I turn around and see a young woman standing by her car, yelling into her phone. Her honey blonde hair is tied in a messy bun on top of her head and she’s wearing a waitress uniform. I recognize it from Joe’s Diner in town.

“Are you kidding me right now, Jace?” she yells. “What am I supposed to do? Macy’s daycare payment is due and so is my rent. The only thing I ask you to help me with is her daycare, and now you’re telling me you can’t?”

There’s a minute intermission, as the other person on the end of the line speaks.

“How can you do this to us, Jace?” she asks. “How can you do this to Macy?”

She goes quiet and I hear her sniffle as she wipes her nose. I know it’s rude to eavesdrop, but I can’t look away from her. Her face is red, a combination of anger and tears that are now streaming down her face.

“I don’t care! She’s your daughter, too, and I only agreed on a divorce because you promised that you would help me take care of Macy. I let you walk away from me, but not our little girl.”

Her eyes screw shut and she pinches the bridge of her nose before taking a deep breath.

“You know what, Jace,” she says, straightening her back. “Just forget about it. From now on, I will take care of my little girl. You can forget about seeing her, too. As of right now, you don’t have a daughter and she doesn’t have a daddy.”

She ends the call and I see her tiny body shake. Her cries are muffled but from where I’m standing just a few feet away I can hear them. And I feel for her. The only difference is that being a single parent has been my choice, but it’s obvious that she no longer has a choice. I walk over to her, careful not to startle her.

“Excuse me, miss?” I say. She whips around and looks at me, her eyes red and puffy, wide with alertness. “Are you okay?” I ask softly.