Chapter 22

Camille

Donovan glanced down at his watch once again.

And every time he did that, I took another gulp of my wine. Which is why, after about an hour and a half, I was sipping/swallowing my fourth glass of the hotel's house wine.

"So...." Donovan kinda sang that word like it was a whole note, but then, like he didn't have any words or notes to follow that one.

I nodded, trying to think of something else, anything else to keep Donovan down in this bar. It had just barely hit midnight and I wasn't sure if that was enough time for Randy.

The thought of that made me turn up this fourth glass and with one last swallow, I finished it off. Not looking at Donovan, I raised my glass to the waiter who'd been serving our booth and when I turned back, I saw the frown on Donovan's face.

"Are you all right?" he asked me.

No!

It was a good thing he couldn't hear the way my heart screamed that word out to him - or maybe my heart was yelling at me. I wasn't all right because I wasn't sure if what I'd done was right.

Why was I doubting myself? I couldn't figure it out. My brother was dead and Tamara needed to pay. At least she was going to still have her life.

But I thought about Randy...and Tamara being locked up in that room with him.

I'd paid him to rape her!

Rape. Her.

The ultimate crime that took power away from a woman. It was a hate crime! I hated men who committed rape!

But wasn't that what I wanted? To take away Tamara's power like she'd taken mine? And June's and my mama's and daddy's?

But Randy?

But rape?

I shuddered and waved at the waiter, wondering where was my next glass of wine?

"I've never seen you drink this much," Donovan said. "You sure you're okay?"

I nodded. "I'm just gonna have one more glass. It's not like I have to drive."

When the waiter placed the fresh wine in front of me, Donovan glanced once again at his watch. Before I could raise my glass to my lips, he said, "Let me walk you to your room. Make sure you get there."

"Why?" I blinked, trying to focus on the fuzzy edges of his two faces. "You're ready to leave? It's still early."

"Well...I think I answered everything you asked for your brother."

I nodded. "Yeah, my brother." I tried not to cry.

Resting his arms on the table. "Camille, it seems like there's something....are you sure you're okay?"

"I told you," I snapped, teetering on the corner where sadness and anger intersected. "I'm fine."

He leaned back and held up his hands. "Oh...kay." Another glance at his watch. "Well, listen, it was good talking to you. I hoped I helped."

As he slid across the booth, I asked, "Where are you going?"

When he stood at his full height, he looked down at me with one of those 'nun-yur' looks. But he was too polite to tell me to mind my business, so he just said, "I hope you'll be ready for work tomorrow."

I swallowed the stones in my throat, nodded, and prayed that he wasn't heading to Tamara's room. Because if Randy was still there....

"And listen, tell your brother to call me if he has any questions. You have my number, right?"

I nodded again, even though I didn't. How would I have his number? He knew he'd never given it to me. But I nodded because what else was I supposed to do?

"What's your brother's name again?"

I looked up and the question that was in my eyes made him repeat his question. Then, I said, "June?" I whispered. "My brother's name is June."

He nodded. "That's cool. Like the month."

"Like June Bug. Like Junior. Like he was Martin Wilson, Junior."

Donovan frowned. "Was?"

I had to blink a couple of times until there was only one face in front of me.

"Hey, y'all."

Donovan and I turned to the voice.

"What's up, Justin?"

I watched as the two gave each other the brother-brother handshake/hug/slap on the back. Then, Justin turned to me, "What's up, Camille?" Before I could say anything, he added, "Y'all been over here a long time. Private meeting?" He looked from me to Donovan and then settled his eyes back on me.

Donovan said, "Yeah, we were just talking business." He glanced at his watch again. Made me take another swallow of wine. He added, "But we're done now. And I'm headed," he paused for a moment, "upstairs."

Justin slid into the booth, holding a glass of beer. "Good deal. Then, I'll keep this beautiful lady company."

Donovan nodded. "Yeah, do that. Make sure she gets to her room."

"Will do," Justin said, glancing at me.

Donovan gave us both a nod and then, trotted out of the room. He literally trotted, like he couldn't get to where he wanted to be fast enough. I raised my glass again.

"So, what's up with you?"

Justin's question made me shift my eyes back. I blinked some more to focus and when his face became clear, this dude was licking his lips. I sighed and for a moment, forgot what was happening on the sixth floor.

There was no doubt that Justin was too fine, and I'd really been sad to find out that his looks was all he had going for him because dude couldn't act. I'd had such hope when I'd done that audition with him, even thinking that he and I could have one of these little road flings. I'd done that on the last two plays - no biggie. Everyone did it. Everyone was sleeping with somebody.

Sleeping with somebody.

That thought brought my mind back to where I'd been and why this was my fifth glass of wine. Before tonight, I hadn't had five glasses of wine all year.

That had to be the reason why I asked Justin, "How old are you?"

He leaned, then stretched across the booth and it was only because the booth was so wide that his lips didn't touch mine. "Old enough."

That sent a shiver that was different than the others that had filled me all evening. But even though there would have been nothing better than dragging this boy up to my room, I had to stay focused. Exactly the way I'd been focused for the last two weeks.

He was still leaning across the booth and so, I did the same thing, though I didn't have to move as much since he was so close to me. My lips were within inches of his when I said, "I'm not interested."

He leaned back and laughed, then shrugged. "So then, let's change the subject; why're you down here by yourself drinking yourself into a stupor?"

His question made a scene flash in my mind: Tamara.

"I wasn't by myself. You saw Donovan...and...now...I'm waiting on someone."

"Oh. You just have men coming and going, huh?"

"How do you know it's a guy?"

He shrugged. "Because first, you're not interested in me and there has to be a reason for that." He paused, like he was waiting for me to do something, say something. I didn't move. He continued, "And you don't strike me as the type of woman who has a lot of female friends. I mean, you and Tamara don't even seem that close even though you work together every day."

Another flash: Tamara and Randy.

Why did he have to say her name? "Oh, God," I whispered and squeezed my eyes shut.

"What's wrong?"

I shook my head. "I'm not sure anymore. I'm not sure if I should have done it?"

"What?"

Tears were already blinding me and when I raised my eyes, two tears rolled down my cheeks.

There seemed to be so much concern on his face and I was sure of it once he slid out of the booth and slipped onto my side. "Camille." His voice was filled with care. "What's wrong?"

"My brother died! " I sobbed.

"I didn't know that. I'm so sorry. What happened?"

"Tamara killed him."

His frown was deep, his lips were twisted when he grunted, "Huh?"

It was hard for me to look into his face because my tears blocked my vision. But I had to make him understand. I had to make them all understand what happened. That was why I started talking: I told him about Randy and his issues. I told him about Tamara and what she'd done to my family.

"That's why I had to do it. I had to make her pay. Because of what she did to my brother."

"So, what did you do?"

The way he said this, I could tell that he was really concerned about me. "I paid Randy...to rough...Tamara up a bit." That was all I could say, I couldn't speak the word -- rape. "I wanted her to hurt the way my brother hurt."

When he put his arm around me, I laid my head on his shoulder and just cried. And I would have stayed there for the rest of the night if Ted hadn't come rushing into the bar.

He stopped right at the entrance. "Has anyone seen Gwen?" he shouted.

I sat up just as Justin jumped up.

"Yo, Ted, what's up?" Justin asked his roommate.

As the rest of the patrons in the bar looked on, Ted rushed over to us. "Have you seen Gwen?" He huffed, so out of breath.

"Nah? What's up?"

He shook his head. "It's bad, man." He rubbed his hand over the scalp of his bald head. "It's bad. Something happened to Randy."

"Randy?" I pushed myself up, and out of the booth. That was and when I saw police officers rushing through the lobby.

As patrons stood and pushed toward the commotion, I staggered past as many people as I could.

"This way!" a bellhop shouted to the two paramedics barreling past. The young man led them to the elevators. "The sixth floor."

My heart was already pounding at a level that I knew it could not sustain, but when I saw the medics, my heart stopped. Had he hurt her that bad?

Oh, God.

The young men led the medics to the elevators and I followed. But the police pushed me away.

"I'm just trying...to get to my room," I said.

"You'll have to take the next elevator," the policeman told me.

I waited behind what seemed to be an army of people, then turned toward the stairwell. But before I could push open the door, someone else did. I looked over my shoulder.

Justin.

I said nothing, and I rushed up the steps. I couldn't speak because of all the thoughts that swirled through my head. Randy must have hurt Tamara pretty bad - exactly the way I wanted, right?

So why, was I crying? Why did my heart hurt?

But when we got to the sixth floor, I stopped. The police were there which meant that Tamara had probably called them. They were going to arrest Randy, he was probably already in handcuffs. But what if he saw me? Would he point me out? Right now, if he'd said anything, it probably sounded like the ramblings of a crazy man.

But if he saw me....

"What's wrong?" Justin said.

I looked up and into his eyes. I was about to tell him that I was afraid, but then, my lips snapped shut and my head cleared as if all the wine had been sucked out of me. I had already told him too much!

"Come on," he urged in a voice so soothing, I followed him. I had the feeling that no matter what happened, Justin would protect me.

He opened the door and we stepped into the mass of chaos. The hall was filled with people and a security guard stopped us as we moved toward the room where so many stood outside. "You need to stay back."

"My room," I pointed in the direction of what I knew to be Tamara's open door. And then I saw them.

Donovan, with his arms around Tamara, leading her into the hallway as she wailed.

"That's my friend," I lied and pushed by the guard who had little control. It took a lot of effort, but I was able to push out the two words, "What happened?" I spoke to Donovan and Tamara at the same time as I searched Tamara's face for signs of a struggle. But except for a tiny cut in her cheek, there was no signs of trauma, just that her eyes were puffy and crimson red.

Her head was resting on Donovan's shoulder until she looked up. "Camille," she breathed my name like we were good friends. "Oh my, God," she cried. "I killed him. I really killed him!"

I stood there stunned, as she rested her head back in the crook of Donovan's shoulder. What had she said?

Before I could have another thought or ask a single question, Donovan said, "Here," and then he passed Tamara off to me. "Can you stay with her for a moment? I want to talk to the police and...." He left it there as if I would know what he had to do.

I expected Tamara to say something like, 'Don't leave me with her.' I didn't expect Tamara to turn from Donovan and wrap her arms around me, sobbing now, into my shoulder.

"Oh, my God," Tamara sobbed over and over into my shoulder, repeating what she'd said before -- I killed him.

Randy? Dead?

And then, I asked the question that was in the center of my heart - because of me?

At first, I felt like a statue, standing stiffly, saying nothing. And then instinct made me wrap my arms around Tamara, but not so much for her comfort; it was for me. So that I could find a way to keep standing, to survive through this moment.

Then a stretcher was being pulled-pushed from the hotel room and though the body was covered from the top to the toes, I knew it was Randy beneath that white sheet.

"Oh, my God!" I cried as the stretcher rolled past us. Even though Tamara and I were holding each other, I fell against the wall and slid until my butt hit the floor. I didn't know how - but Tamara ended up sitting next to me.

"Oh, my God!" I cried again. And because now, I just had to know, I leaned away from Tamara. "What happened?" my question came out in a whisper.

Her voice was as soft as mine. "He raped me. And I...killed him. I took his knife and killed him over and over and over and over...."

I put my hand on her shoulder, stopping her. Because if she had said that one more time, I would have died, too.

She lowered her head again and this time, I pulled her to me. And as we sat there, sobbing together, a pair of black Timms stopped in front of me.

"Donovan," I whispered. But when I looked up, I looked into the eyes of Justin.

Though it wasn't his eyes that set my heart racing at a sonic-speed. It was his lips and the way they curved into a smile, no a grin. A grin, that would fit the face of a character in a horror movie. A character who knew your secret and a character who looked like he was ready to bring you down.

He grinned, then brought his index finger to his lips, as if he were telling me to be quiet. Or maybe that was his signal that he would be the one who wouldn't say anything; I wasn't sure.

Then with his finger still in place, he backed away, though his eyes stayed on me. He stared and stared until he turned and disappeared through the stairwell door.

That was when I began to shiver. Or maybe it was that I had never stopped. Maybe I'd been shivering since I put this plan into motion.

Whatever it was, I shivered, feeling like I would never stop.