I'd wanted to watch Tamara suffer as she worked with Donovan every day. I'd wanted to catch her crying in between her scenes, tears pouring out so much that she couldn't even speak.
I'd imagined going back to my hotel room every night filled with hope and happiness as I watched her breaking down. And then, when she was at her very lowest, I'd send Randy in to finish it all.
But Tamara wasn't suffering, she wasn't miserable, she wasn't breaking, and she hadn't shed one tear. She was having a grand ole time because she and Donovan had hooked up. Yeah, they told everyone that nothing was going on, but a chemist couldn't create what was happening between those two. They were sleeping together, I was sure of that. Tamara had been doing too much smiling, no, she was grinning and she was giddy. She was happy and I wasn't.
It was time to hand her over to Randy.
The thought of that made me shiver, though it didn't make me smile as I walked into the lobby bar. It was full, just about every seat taken, which was a good thing. I needed to do this in plain sight. I'd decided to meet Randy right here, like talking to him here was no big deal - we were just colleagues chatting for a moment, the way everyone in the cast always did. No one would think anything of it and it was much safer than being alone with him in a stairwell.
I tugged my purse closer to me as I made my way to the end of the bar. Just as I expected, the guys from the band were all hunched together at the other end, their eyes on the basketball game on the screens above. I motioned to the bartender and he raised a finger. Then, I turned my attention to Randy and I got that stirring inside, the upset stomach feeling that I got every time I saw him.
He sickened me , not only because of what he'd done to me in the staircase, but he was truly a pervert. Always staring at women, then always doing things with his hands....I shuddered. After he took care of Tamara, I prayed that she'd report him so that he could spend the next ten decades of his life in prison.
But before that happened, I needed him; so I stared at him, one of those looks that made men with egos always turn around to see who was looking at them. It didn't take even a minute before Randy glanced at me.
I nodded, smiled, nodded again. He frowned, at first, so I gave him another nod, another smile. That was when he got it. That was when he nodded back. I watched him as he did one of those country-boy struts toward me and that wasn't an insult. I recognized that walk - my brother used to do it all the time, trying to impress Tamara.
"What's up, Camille?" Randy said as he slithered up next to me.
I cleared my throat. "Nothing. Just you." I took two steps to my left, wanting to make sure there was enough space between us and others so that our conversation wouldn't be easily overheard. Not that I was too worried. The cheers from the game drowned us out.
He rested his beer onto the very end of the bar. "So, you wanted to talk to me?" Then, he leaned in a little to add, "Or we could find a place more private than this."
I rolled my eyes, and he laughed.
"So this ain't about you and me?" he asked. "Let me guess. It's your favorite subject. Tamara."
"You and Tamara," I whispered back to him.
"I dunno why you still tryin' to make it seem like she wants to get wit' me." He shook his head. "She all up with that nigga, Donovan now."
"Could you not use the n word around me?"
"What?" His face was scrunched like he was really confused. "You don't want me to say 'now'?"
It was a good thing he busted out laughing right away or else I would've just walked away. 'Cause if he was that stupid, he wouldn't be able to pull this off with Tamara.
"I know what you mean, girl."
I gave him my 'really' look.
"Okay, I won't say it anymore. So," he looked over to the bartender, held up his glass and the bartender gave him a nod. Then, he asked me, "You want somethin'?"
"No, I'm good," I said, remembering what I'd done opening night in Atlanta. Clearly, drinking wasn't my gift.
As Randy waited for another beer, I rolled over the script in my head and worked hard to press down my nerves. I had no idea why I was so nervous. It was all planned out with just two unanswered questions - the first being what I would say if Randy told anyone that we'd spoken. He was crazy, everyone knew that. That would be my defense -- I had no idea what that nut was talking about.
When he turned back to me, I said, "So, what I wanted to talk to you about...."
He nodded. "I know. Me and Tamara. Why are you so interested in this?"
"I already told you. You would make a cute couple and then, she's the one who got me all involved. Carrying all of these messages to you."
"I just don't get it. She's a grown woman. Why can't she tell me herself? And why she always acting like she can't stand the sight of me?"
"And I already told you that part, too. She wants to keep up impressions. You know, she went to Yale and everything."
His eyes narrowed and I could almost see the flames of anger beneath his skin. "She doesn't think I'm good enough for her?"
"No, she just wants to make sure the chemistry is right between you two first before she makes any kind of public announcement."
"Chemistry?"
"You know, sexual chemistry."
"Oh, yeah." He grinned and he dropped one hand to his crotch.
Right away, I yanked my eyes back to his. Once again, I got that stirring inside, making me wonder if I should just walk away. But I couldn't. I had to remember my family. I had to remember how Tamara had never called back, never came back. And so, my brother decided that life in heaven was better than life on earth -- without Tamara.
He didn't leave a note, but I was sure that was the reason why when I came home from my job at Betty Bea's I found him in bed, only this time, surrounded by all this red. That was the first time I understood why people sometimes said it was a pool of blood. Because there was so much blood and it looked like my brother was swimming...with his gun right beside him.
That alone was too much to take, but Tamara's betrayal didn't stop there. Next, came my mother. Who couldn't imagine life on earth without her son. That was why her heart had attacked her a little over a year after June died, leaving just me and my dad. My dad with all of those bottles of Crown and Irish Turkey to numb his grief. And I had my revenge.
"Hey, hey."
I blinked.
"You okay?" Randy asked as he tapped my hand with his fingertips.
I looked down to where he'd touched me and remembered where his hand had been a few moments ago. As I jerked away from him, I wondered what I could use to sterilize my skin.
"You good?" he asked.
I nodded, blinked some more, reached into my purse, and then with a quick glance around, I slid the white envelope onto the bar.
He didn't touch it at first. Just looked down, then back up at me. "What's that?"
"Something for you." I lowered my voice even more. "But be discrete." And then, I prayed that he knew the definition of that word.
He didn't pick up the envelope, which was a good sign. He lifted up the flap and the way his eyes got wide, I was afraid, he would pick up the envelope and show it around.
"There's money in there."
This guy was a genius!
"What's this for?" he asked.
"For you."
"Why you giving me money?"
"For Tamara."
His frown was so deep, I was afraid someone might notice and think we were arguing or something. "If Tamara really wants to get wit' me, why you givin' me money?"
Okay, he wasn't as dumb as I thought, but I was ready.
I shrugged, as if I hadn't been prepared for this question. "I don't know. This isn't my money. She gave it to me to give to you. She said it was a promise." I shook my head as if I were confused. "I have no idea what that means, but she said you would understand."
At first, he frowned, but then, he grinned. "Oh, yeah." He nodded. "I can get wit' that. She wants to take care of me. Okay."
Then, I blinked and the envelope was gone. That fast. I couldn't believe it and my first thought was that if this creep hadn't been into assaulting women, he might have had another career as one of those two-bit thieves on the street.
"So, how much is in there?" he asked, tapping the inside of his suit jacket where (I guess) he'd stuffed the envelope. "How much does she think I'm worth?"
Now that wasn't a question I was prepared to answer, but I didn't want to pretend that I didn't know. I couldn't have him pulling the envelope out, and counting the money in front of everyone.
I said, "She didn't tell me, but I think it's a couple of thousand."
He nodded. He grinned. He was pleased.
"So, what's the plan?" he asked.
"She wants to see you tomorrow night, after the show." His hand dropped to the front of his pants again, and this time, I kept my eyes right on his. "But she wants to role play. She doesn't want you to walk right in."
"What do you mean?"
"When you knock on her door, don't say, 'It's Randy.' Be creative...say you're with room service, or something like that."
He shook his head, then shrugged. "If that's how she wants to do it, but she sure wants to go through a lot when I have so much to offer. She needs to just be waiting for me in the bed."
"Who says she won't be?"
He licked his lips like a hungry wolf and I felt that stirring again. "Okay, then. It's done. Tomorrow night, right?"
I nodded. "And she said she's going to be in full role mold." I shrugged. "I don't get it, but she's an actress and I guess that means she always has to be acting."
"I get it now. Thanks, Camille. You sure are a good friend."
I didn't say anything since I was ready for him to get back with the guys and away from me. But as he did that country-strut again, I thought about his words: a good friend.
That, I was. I was a good friend to my brother. And my brother was finally going to have his revenge so that he could rest in peace. I prayed that Tamara would be left as heartbroken and despondent as she had left June.
I stood at the bar, not wanting it to seem like my purpose for being there was only to see Randy. As I sipped my wine, I smiled as others motioned for me to come their tables. I nodded as if I would join them, but there was only one thing I wanted to do tonight. I had to get back to my room, so that I could answer the second unanswered question: How was I going to separate Tamara and Donovan tomorrow night?
Even now, they were the only two missing - as if we wouldn't know that they were together. It was like that every night; it couldn't be like that tomorrow.
I'd figure it out, I was sure of that. But first, I held up my glass, asked the bartender for another glass -- just a coke, this time. But then, I changed my mind and asked for another glass of wine. My second. This would be my last one, but right now, I needed something to calm all of this rumbling going on inside.