"Cam, I didn't do this on purpose!" Leo yelled. "I really did think that making the move into campaign security was a profitable decision!"
"But you didn't think it all the way through and anticipate every possible outcome!" I shouted. "You didn't think about my life at all!"
"No, I didn't!" Leo yelled, then backing down a bit, he collapsed into his chair and rubbed his eyes before looking up. When he did, I could see the anguish. "I didn't think of you this time, Cam. That's true. But it's because for
the past decade I've thought of nothing but you. All day, every day. I think about how every decision will affect you. How every deal will affect you. What about me? When is it my turn to think about me, Cam?"
"Leo, you knew the deal when you took the job," I protested.
"I did, indeed." He nodded. "But it's been ten years, Cam. At what point are you going to let go of the memory and start living? Because until you start living in the world again, I can't."
"Leo..." I said, not knowing how to respond to his raw honesty. He was right on some level. I had been living a life closed off from the rest of the world as I tried to absorb the enormous loss, but now I wondered if it wasn't time to open up a bit and pull down some of the protective walls I'd built. I sank down into one of the soft chairs that faced his desk and dropped my face into my hands.
"Cam, look, I've done everything you've ever asked me to," Leo said quietly. "And I've never complained, but now..."
Leo got up out of his chair, walked around the desk, and perched on the edge of it. He leaned forward and rested his hand on my shoulder.
"But now it's time to come out of the shell and start living again, my friend," he said. There was sadness in his voice, but it was mixed with a bit of hope around the edges. It was as if he thought that he could shock me out of my years of sadness, and maybe he could.
"How am I going to handle this?" I asked as I shrugged off his hand and rubbed my head until my hair was a tangled mess. "We need a plan, Leo. Victor Vangel is going to try to ruin me just out of spite if we don't have a plan."
"Then let's sit down and draw one up and release the information," he said with a hopeful smile. "On our terms, in our own way."
"This is gonna suck, Leo," I said as I sat up and looked at him shaking my head as I played out the scenario. "The guys at the station are gonna be pissed that I kept this a secret, and the news media is going to turn it into a circus. I can't do this."
"You can do it, Cam," Leo said. "You can and you will. And once you do it, you'll be free from it all for good."
"Maybe that's what I'm afraid of," I muttered as I watched Leo grab a notepad and some pens and move over to the conference table in the corner of the room.
"Maybe it is, but if Vangel or Metzler is going to release the information, you've really got nothing to lose at this point, do you?" he said as he began sketching out a diagram for how we could break the news and maintain control of the flow of information.
Two hours later, I looked up from the rough draft of the report we'd created and, for the first time in a very long time, I smiled at the prospect of telling people what was going on in my life. I’d told Leo a million times that we should hire a PR person to do this work, but he insisted that we were better able to handle our own PR and, besides, he didn’t trust anyone who was able to spin the story better than he was able to.
Chapter Twelve
Alex
I hadn't heard anything from Cam for several days, but since my schedule was filled with studying and ER shifts, I didn't give it a whole lot of thought. Or if I did, I knew there wasn't anything I could do about it. My studies came first, and with graduation in sight, I had to keep my eye on the prize.
Liz and I were scheduled to work the late shift in the ER on Friday after having been absent for a few days, so we'd whipped up a batch of enchiladas for the staff and brought dinner in for everyone. There was a great deal of appreciation in addition to the comments about Liz's new dye job and what role that had played in the enchilada making. After all the fussing over the sink, I'd managed to turn Liz into a platinum blond with blue tips on the ends of her hair. We weren't sure how Mrs. Rikka was going to respond to the change in her charge's hair color, but we figured that at worst, we'd argue that Liz was going for hospital pride by matching her hair to her scrubs.
Around seven, Mrs. Rikka toured the ER on her nightly rounds, and in tow she had Violet, Jessica, and Lydia. Liz and I exchanged looks as the girls followed Mrs. Rikka into the exam rooms and emerged making notes about the condition of each room.
"Now, ladies, you'll see that every well-run ER needs someone who is deeply invested in ensuring that it is stocked and ready to go," she lectured as she walked around the nurses’ station. "And in every ER you'll also notice that there are people designated to be the stockers."
Mrs. Rikka looked at Liz and I pointedly as she explained the way in which it was best to approach assigning jobs in the ER. It took her a few moments, but when it registered, she turned and exclaimed, "Elizabeth Banks, what have you done to your hair?"
"I dyed it," Liz said in a voice she would have used with a small child.
"I can see that," Mrs. Rikka sniffed. "Why on earth would you use such an unnatural color?"
"Oh, it's the rage with all of the scholarship students," Violet interjected as she stared coldly at Liz. "You know, when they can't make their academic mark, they aim lower for shock value."
"Not really sure how much lower one could get than that 80s hairstyle, you sport, Vi," Liz said in an exaggeratedly cheerful voice. "But keep digging!"
"Ladies!" Mrs. Rikka exclaimed. "Enough! This is a hospital not a school yard, and I'll not have you fighting in front of patients and staff!"
"I'm sorry," Violet said, but I could tell she wasn't at all by the way she nudged Jessica and Lydia and then gave Liz a nasty little grin.