Camryn
HUNTER AND I have been at Maggie’s for a while, waiting for the event to start. The drinks are flowing, which probably isn’t the best idea. Being a tipsy woman with a loose tongue may not make a great first impression. The music has been great so we have been shaking our asses a bit and mingling with the crowd. This place is as packed as I have seen it. Besides the sixty or so men and woman participating in the event, it appears many have come for a night out or to perhaps watch the show. A night out is just what I did not realize I needed. We found out this event sadly is not catering to the gay crowd, so Hunter is going to be my wingman and hang out. Offering to leave or just sit aside and observe with him, he was adamant I still try to enjoy my time.
The rules have been read and it is time to take my seat and let the games begin. Remain optimistic. This has been repeated over and over by Hunter and with incoming texts from Avery. Detouring to the bar for one more drink, and a glass of water, is a must. Lord knows how long I will be sitting down. Please let these guys be at least nice and funny. Do I really think I will meet someone of interest in this fashion? Not so much. But I guess crazier things have happened.
While waiting, I pick at my nails, a nervous habit I have and gaze around the room. My eyes catch the back of someone and I swear it looks like Trystan. But he wouldn’t be here. This isn’t his thing at all, and he would likely be murderous that I was here. Avery has told me about the case he is working on, and what has been happening to women in bars and clubs across Savannah. Every time she goes out, she gets the third degree from Trystan about what to look for and the do’s and don’ts based on the rash of women being drugged and assaulted in the city. The thought is terrifying and causes my flesh to rise in goosebumps and me to shudder. Looking back through the crowd, I lose sight of the man I thought was Trystan. Realizing I probably imagined it being him, I laugh to myself and shake my head. Maybe I am little crazy. Dreaming about him. Seeing him in places he isn’t. Definitely crazy.
The first man makes his way to my table. He looks fairly attractive, but I am a height snob and he looks much shorter than I like. Does that make me a terrible person? Meh, I don’t think so. We all like what we like. He introduces himself as Mike, offers me another fancy blue drink I have been enjoying all night, and then with a shake of my hand takes a seat. Awkward. Although the drink was a nice touch, this guy is looking intently at me like I am a treat and not saying much. His eyes gaze up and down my body, settling on my chest for longer than they should. My eyes are up here, asshole, I say to myself. This whole encounter is making me feel uncomfortable and this is date number one of the night. Why do I get the feeling this night will be a very long one? So what is a girl to do but chug down the drink in front of her and try and make the best of it as I was instructed by my besties.
“Camryn, you said your name was?” he inquires. “That’s a pretty name. Different. Sorry if I am a little shy. This is awkward, isn’t it?
Perhaps I misjudged him and his stares, maybe he is really just nervous.
“It is extremely awkward,” I laugh. “But let’s make the best of it. Tell me about yourself.”
Apparently that was the okay for him to begin talking. He rambled on for a few minutes and he completely lost me. He was speaking so fast and information dumping. He didn’t stop to ask one question. Lord Jesus, if they are all like this, it’s going to be a long night. Not even sure what he really said to me, I am relieved when I hear “SWAP” being called over the loud speaker. As he got up to move on, I crossed his name off. We most definitely will not be talking.
Looking up to see my next ‘date’ laughter falls from my mouth. The one and only Jase Stone is making his way to my table. The smirk he is wearing lights up his face. Lies would be spilling from my lips if I didn’t say Jase is an attractive man. His hair is the color of sand and his eyes the color of a Caribbean ocean. He keeps a low-cut, trimmed goatee on his face and that frames perfect lips. Jase is cocky and arrogant, but I know with the right woman he would melt and soften. He just has not found her yet. And frankly, I doubt he is looking for anything long-term tonight. Another notch in his bedpost is likely his objective. If he wasn’t like a brother to me, maybe there could have been something between us, but he and his brothers are a pseudo family of sorts and he feels the same.
“Jase.” I nod my head in greeting. “What are you doing here? You know you don’t want to date someone. Also, don’t you have a perfectly posh club to manage? That place must be chock-full of willing women”
“Baby girl,” he chuckles, “where else can I go find thirty single women, on the mingle. Maybe I can’t give them love or long-term, but I can give them one night of fun. One I am sure they will not forget anytime soon,” confidently he exclaims. “Stoned isn’t the place to meet women. I don’t like to mix business with pleasure. It never ends well, and more often than not, turns into some crazy, bunny boiler stalking from ladies who can’t get enough of the D.”
I clutch my stomach from giggling. This next ten minutes will be spent just like this. Laughing, catching up, me shaking my head, and rolling my eyes. Likely this will be the easiest ‘date’ of the night. Grateful for his humor and presence, we chat away and then he ruins it.
“So, Cam, how’s Trystan? We all know that man is pining over you still, all these years later. When are you going to give in, sweetheart?”
“You can’t be serious,” I reply, irritation evident in my tone. “Am I the only one who remembers what happened? He has a fucking baby with another woman. And he got her pregnant while we were together. Hello!! That is kind of a big deal and not really forgivable,” I seethe out.
“I don’t know the story,” he holds up his hands in surrender. “But he and Jackson talked a few weeks back. T was adamant that if you just listened to him, you would change your mind. He’s a stand-up guy. Great father. And I can’t imagine he would say that and not mean it. And you know what? People make mistakes in life, Cam. People grow and change. One shouldn’t always be defined by their past.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Jase,” I pondered. “That was actually pretty profound, coming from you. Logically, I can’t fathom or think of one thing that would justify what happened. People do change and I know that, but he destroyed me. My heart could not take it another time.” It comes out in a whisper and unshed tears fill my eyes. Squeezing my eyes shut, I attempt to stop the tears from falling.
Jase realizes I am getting emotional, and one thing about him I know for certain is he cannot stand to see a woman cry. Alcohol and talks of Trystan in the past are obviously not a good mix. He stands up from his chair and pulls me to my feet. Wrapping me in a hug, he kisses the top of my head. “Just think about it, Cam. You deserve the world, and I believe that man would give it to you. Sorry for upsetting you, darlin’. That was never my intention.”
“You’re an ass. You’re going to ruin my buzz and you almost ruined my makeup. But I adore you. So you are forgiven.”
Stepping back, I shake my head a bit. Feeling a bit foggy, I realize I need to slow down on the drinks. Mentally, I begin to chastise myself. God, I know better than this. Jase looks a little concerned.
“You okay, Cam? You just went a little pale,” his voice is laced with concern.
“I am good. Just need to stick to water. The first guy creeped me out at first, so I slammed a drink fast. And it wasn’t my first, or even my second. But I am okay,” I assure him.
“SWAP!” Comes over the speaker system.
“Okay. Stick to water, for sure. I will be wandering around to find my next bedmate. But if you need me, I am here.” Placing a kiss on my cheek, he makes his way to the next table.
He is so brazen, but he is one of my closest friends so I am used to his antics.
Sitting back down, I realize my head is feeling foggier by the minute. My head falls in my hands and I massage my temples. Maybe I should go find Hunter and get some air. My next date approaches the table and immediately asks if I am okay. His concern, and the fact he notices my discomfort, puts me at ease for some reason. After assuring him I am fine, I took a moment to take him in. His eyes were very bright and reminded me of smoke. Not the black thick smoke, but the soft gray billows. They are so unique. Jet-black curly hair sits atop his head. His face has a five o’clock shadow and I see a dimple peeking out.
We go through basic introductions and I learn his name is Preston. Once again I am overcome with a haziness in my head. My body feels a little heavy, and I am reeling, wondering how these drinks have affected me so strongly. How many have I had? When was the last time I ate? Hunter and I grabbed some food so that can’t be my issue.
“I am not feeling so hot. I think I need some air.”
He stands up without thought and offers me his hand. The gesture seems thoughtful and I go willingly. He leads me through the crowded bar and toward the doors. I am walking but it is a struggle. My limbs are feeling like they have weights on them. Once we get outside, I gulp in as much air as possible. The humidity isn’t helping my situation and my breathing becomes more labored. Panic is setting in and I feel as if I am having an anxiety attack. Having not had one of those in many years, I try to steady my breathing. The guy I am with seems genuinely concerned and is asking me questions. He told me his name and I can’t even remember it. I hear him, but the words are garbled and not making sense. Leading me to a nearby car, he whips open the passenger door and helps me sit down. Moving my legs into vehicle, the door is closed and he rounds the car.
Once he climbs in and settles in the driver’s seat, the car is started, and the air conditioning is turned on full blast. Some relief starts to come. The cool air feels like heaven. My breathing slows, almost to a normal pace. Something is still very wrong though. My vision is blurry and I cannot focus on any one thing. Are we still in the parking lot? Are we moving. Tears drench my face. What the fuck is happening to me?
Easton, or is it Weston, is rubbing my leg. I see his hand moving but I cannot feel it. His mouth appears to be moving but all I hear is ringing in my head. God, why can’t I remember what he just told me his name is. What is happening to me? Hospital, I make out from his garbled sound. Maybe he is taking me there. This is good. Something is wrong.
“Hunter,” falls from my lips like a prayer. Where is he? Panic will set in when he looks around and realizes I am gone.
The ringing stops momentarily and words seem to be reaching my ears.
The guy I am with—fuck—what is his goddamn name, is on his phone. Hearing one side of the conversation and only pieces, I hear my name, Hunter, and the word hospital again. Detective Trystan Harrison. Did he just say his name? Why? Confusion and fear overwhelm me. My eyes are so heavy. Tears are falling fast from my eyes, soaking my cheeks, running down my chest. Willing myself to focus I see bright lights headed our way. Am I imagining them?
“FUCK!!!” comes from the mouth of the person behind the wheel. We swerve, the car jerks and slams into something. Everything goes black.