Chasing Love's Wings (5 page)

Walking around the desk is Bobby, and it takes a minute before I see me walking over
to his desk. It’s disturbing because I don’t remember any of this. You would think
that at five or six I would have.
 

“Daddy.”
 

“Hi, Cameron.” His voice is warm as I climb onto his lap; a warm, glowing smile spreads
across his lips. “What can I do for you?”
 

“I want to go—” My voice is cut off by the sound of a slamming door, and Bobby and
I both look toward the source of the noise.
 

“What is it, Evelyn?”
 

“Cameron, get out of here,” she says very rudely toward me. I watch as the younger
me looks to Bobby with a terrified look on her face, but Bobby nods reassuringly and
I climb down. I watch as I retreat toward the camera and give my mother a wide berth
before I hear the door click closed on the video.
 

“You fucking whore,” Evelyn spats and throws something. It flies with such speed that
I can’t make it out before it shatters against the wall just over Bobby’s head. “All
you had to do was fucking keep your dick in your pants, and you couldn’t even do that,
could you, you...you bastard.”
 

“What the fuck are you talking about, Evelyn?”
 

“Who gives a flying fuck. I want a divorce, I’m taking the kids and leaving.”
 

“Like fucking hell you are.” Bobby is raging pissed; I can see it in his face. He
stands and comes around his desk. “If you think for one damn minute I will let any
judge award you custody of those kids, you have another thing coming.” Bobby stalks
toward my mother as he says this. She meets him and slaps him across the face.
 

I commend him for not striking her back, but suddenly the video is cut off.
 

The next video is of Bobby, back in his office, this time sitting on a chair or stool
directly in front of the camera. I can tell he’s been crying. His eyes are all red
and puffy. My heart clamps tight at the sight in front of me.
 

“Cameron, I’m sorry. I am so very sorry. I did what I had to do to keep you safe and
out of her hands. It is my hope and my wish that you will one day understand, but
it was all I could do to keep her away from you. You deserve so much better.” By the
end of his speech the tears are visibly streaking down his cheeks and mine.
 

Beau and Mick leave a little while after that. I can’t quite bring myself to watch
many of the other videos, but something about the one dated 2000-2006 is nagging at
me. When I put the disc in and the folders pop up, there are two that capture my attention.
One titled “Coming Home” and the other is called “Amazing Discovery 2004.”
 

I go to the one titled “Coming Home,” and inside the folder is only one video. I select
it.
 

Back in Bobby’s office, he’s sitting on his stool, looking a little older and more
like I remember him when I came back after my sophomore year.
 

“Cameron is finally home, where she belongs. But she hates me. No, she despises me.
Which I guess is something I should’ve expected all those years ago and no less than
I deserve. I just wish I knew how to show her how much I’ve missed her.”
 

The video continues on for a few minutes: he is talking about my being home and trying
to work through how he can try and fix the mess he’s created, and it pulls harder
at my heartstrings.
 

“I’d have given you a chance, if I’d known,” I breathe and pour the last of the bottle
of Crown into my wine glass.
 

I move on to the next folder, “Amazing Discovery.” I cock my head at the screen. Tristan
and I had talked about the day Bobby discovered I could sing, and Bobby’s subsequent
reaction, which would’ve happened in 2004. I open the folder, and again, only one
video.
 

This time Bobby is sitting behind his desk. Someone — who, I can’t quite tell — is
sitting opposite him.
 

“I’ve discovered someone amazing,” Bobby says. “Singer, amazingly talented, a great
stage presence.” I watch as Bobby takes a drink from his snifter; brandy was always
his drink of choice.

“So what’s the problem?”
 

I sit up on the couch with interest. I recognize the voice immediately, but the hair
threw me off. It’s Vinnie.
 

Bobby doesn’t answer him right away. Taking another drink, he stands and walks toward
the cabinet to his right, and though he is off-screen just a little, I can tell by
the clinking of crystal that he’s filling his glass. When he is done, he walks toward
the camera slightly and then starts to pace the room.
 

“I can’t sign her.”
 

“Bobby, since when do you not sign an amazing talent? You’re by far the best in the
business, you know talent better than the talent knows talent.” I watch as Vinnie
turns in his chair toward my father, and I can see it now; why Vinnie shaves his head.
His hairline is receding horribly and he looks years older, and it’s been eight years
since this video was shot.
 

“There are two rules for signing new talent in this company. You know them as well
as I do.”
 

“No signing someone that you’re screwing, or family. So you’re screwing—” I watch
as Bobby visually cringes at Vinnie’s words.

“Dammit, Vin, it’s Cami.” I feel both shock as he uses my nickname and the shock that
stretches across Vinnie’s face.
 

“Make an exception,” Vinnie finally manages to say.
 

“I could, if I hadn’t reacted so poorly when I found out.” Vinnie looks at Bobby,
and he continues. “I hadn’t expected what I was going to see. I’d never heard her
sing before and I blew a gasket. The first thing that flew through my mind was no
way in hell was I going to let my daughter be caught up in this mess, then the other
was the fact that I can’t sign her, and that someone else was going to profit from
my daughter. So I threw a fit.”

“Jesus—”
 

The video cuts off.
 

Tears streak down my cheeks. After all the years I’ve wanted that answer, and now
that I have it, there is nothing I can do about it. I put my head in my hands as the
tears start to roll and the sobs come harder and faster than they have in years.

FOUR

******

Tristan

******

LAX is probably my favorite place to be right now because it means I’m heading back
to Phoenix and back to Cami. It is Thursday afternoon and she has no idea that I’m
coming home today. I’d told her tomorrow before I left, but I busted my butt to get
out of here faster. After being in Tarah and then in Phoenix with Cami, I am beginning
to despise Los Angeles.
 

I spoke with Vinnie about my being able to live in Phoenix and still being able to
come here when it’s necessary. He said that he doesn’t see a problem with it. Especially
considering the two movies I am signed to complete by the end of the year are not
even in L.A. I am going to have to go to Montana — boring — and New York for the other.
 

I wonder if I can convince Cami to come with me to both. At the very least I will
need her in New York with me because I will be in the city itself and I don’t want
any negative PR starting up should I decide to go out. This way, Cami can be with
me.
 

“It’s time,” Tyson says as he stands up. He’s coming back with me this time. He wants
to go see Jolene and spend some time with her. I can’t help but smile at the idea
of him and Jolene together. She’s a great girl and perfect for Tyson. I think he knows
it too.
 

“Let’s do it,” I say as we head toward the terminal door of the first class lounge.
 

LAX is very busy this afternoon and I’m glad Ty brought some extra security along
to help with crowd control.
 

I’m not ten feet outside the lounge and girls are already yelling my name. “Go faster.”
I grit my teeth and we all pick up our pace. I don’t look up in my sunglasses, and
I am following Tyson’s feet as we walk. The hat and sunglasses, of course, do nothing
to hide my celebrity, at least not here in Los Angeles. Maybe that’s why I want to
stay in Phoenix so bad.
 

We make it to the terminal, and the three guys Tyson brought with him block the doorway
to the jet walkway. Tyson and I immediately, without stopping, walk straight onto
the plane. The gentlemen behind us are taking care of my boarding pass.
 

We step onto the plane, and before we are even seated in the last row of first class,
the door is closed and we are on our way. At least being a celeb has its small advantages.
I am almost always last to board, and we take off quickly.
 

The flight from LAX to PHX is quick, and before we know it, we’re in a Town Car headed
toward Cami’s condo. There were a few photographers when we left the terminal, and
that, no doubt, is due to someone catching my flight number, airline and destination.
 

Since New York and the premiere, the press has managed to ascertain that Cami is a
resident of Phoenix, so I am sure they were pretty confident that I’d disembark in
Phoenix, even though the plane I was on is headed on to Dallas.
 

“Are you planning on going anywhere this weekend?” Tyson asks me.

I shake my head. “I don’t think so, but if that should change, I’ll let you know.”
 

Tyson nods his understanding. Jolene doesn’t live too far from Cami’s, so if we needed
or wanted to go somewhere, he could be there.
 

“I’ll talk to Cami, maybe we can have everyone over for dinner tomorrow or Saturday.
Travis is still here with Naomi, so...”
 

“Sure, just let us know,” he responds and gives me a half smile.

That’s it for our conversation. While we were in Tarah, Ty and I grew a little closer,
but I think a lot of that had to do with the fact that he wasn’t having to watch my
back every second. Since we’ve come back to the States, things have gone back to business.
Though I have no doubt that if we were to all have dinner together, we’d all be right
back to the way things were in Tarah.
 

The car pulls up in front of Cami’s condo and I grab my bag. “Want to come up?” I
ask Ty.
 

“Nah, man, I’m gonna go see my girl.”
 

I smile at the goofy expression on his face as I climb out of the car and head for
the door.
 

Cami gave me a key to her condo and I can tell she’s here because there are a couple
of lights on on the third floor. I unlock the door, but the alarm isn’t set. That’s
weird; she always sets the alarm. But the door was locked, so I don’t get too excited
about it.
 

I ascend the stairs two at a time, climbing my way up until I reach the living level.
I can hear someone talking, then I hear a rather loud thump that sounds like a heavy
bottle meeting the coffee table. 

“...I never meant to hurt you, and I’m sorry for what I’ve put you through over the
years, but I’m certain after you see what I’ve shown you, you can understand why—”
There is a pause in the voice and something about it is very familiar, but I can’t
seem to put my finger on it. I come around the corner to see the back of Cami’s head;
she’s looking toward the blue screen of the TV. I watch momentarily as I see her bring
a rather large wine glass to her lips, but the liquid is a dark amber color. 

“Cams,” I say, and she jumps and screams. I rush toward her, but I am too late and
the glass she's holding shatters all over the tile floor. “Don’t move,” I say as I
come around the couch and realize that she's barefoot. And it takes me only a minute
to realize that she is still wearing the same clothes as when I left on Tuesday. “Let
me get a broom and some towels, please don’t move.” 

“What the hell are you doing here?”
 

She’s angry, but I’m not sure that her anger is directed at me. 

“I finished early so I came—” I look at her then, in the light of the blue screen
of the TV, and her eyes are completely raccooned and she has streaks of black mascara
running down her cheeks. “What is going on?” 

She plops back down on the couch. “I’m drunk. Very drunk.” Her words slur horribly
as she tells me all of this. 

“I can tell,” I say as I walk toward the kitchen and the pantry where I know there
is a broom and dustpan. I grab it, along with the roll of paper towels on the counter,
and go back into the living room. I flick on the side table light, and she squints
and covers her eyes. “I need to see to clean this up.” But I look to the floor and
near the TV. This isn’t the first glass she’s shattered. On the wall on both sides
of the TV there are stains dripping down to the floor, and underneath those are piles
of clear, broken glass. 

Jesus. “Cams, talk to me.... What is going on?”

She doesn’t say anything, but lifts her arm, points it at the TV, and suddenly, in
sixty-inch glory, is the face and upper torso of none other than Robert “Bobby” Enders. 

I’m taken aback by what I’m seeing. She presses another button and the image comes
alive. 

“Cami, I know this isn’t easy for you to watch and I’m sorry that it had to come to
you this way, but it is the only way I thought I could get you to listen to what I
had to say. I never meant to hurt you, and I’m sorry for what I’ve put you through
over the years, but I’m certain after you see what I’ve shown you, you can understand
why—” Bobby’s image freezes on the screen again. 

There are no words for what I can even try to say to comfort her, and I can hear her
sobbing on the couch, so I forgo the cleanup and go to the couch to sit down next
to her. I’m wearing boots, and the glass crunches further beneath my feet. “He’s apologizing
to you, is that why you’re so upset? Because it came in video form and not from him?”
I ask her, and she vigorously shakes her head.