Page 20 of The Top of Admiration
“Oh oh oh!” Lucy chimed in. “You should take my new pink dress. It’s long-sleeved but fucking amazing.” She threw her hand over her mouth as though Mom and Dad had never heard a swear word.
“Thanks, but I’m not sure we’ll be socializing much. We’re in a rural estate, so I think the nightlife will be limited,” I laughed, loving how kind she was.
“Your art skills must have improved significantly since high school, Randa,” Sarah mused with a cheeky smile. “I mean, the picture you painted on Jeremy Collins’s locker was okay but lacked realism.”
“What was that one, Miranda?” Mom asked.
“I don’t remember,” I answered hurriedly. I’d painted a tiny dick with huge hairy balls on Jeremy’s locker after he pantsed Sarah’s little brother in front of everyone at lunch. He must have known it was me, but he never dobbed me in. Respect. And what was she talking about? That painting was very realistic. I’d even included pubes and veins.
“Grandpa Harold would be so proud.” Now it was Mom’s turn to weep.
I’m pretty sure she meant of the French trip, not the cock-and-balls mural I’d painted on Jeremy’s locker while Sarah and Mish kept watch.
“May he rest in peace.” Good Cam lifted his glass.
“You know he’s dead?” I asked in surprise. We didn’t even know Good Cam when Grandpa died. Bad Cam didn’t even remember his deceased status, and he was at the funeral.
Cam looked surprised. “Yeeesss,” he said, in a long, drawn-out tone, like he was speaking to an idiot. I shrugged.
Dinner was amazing. Mom was a great cook, and cooking for huge crowds seemed to be her specialty. Cordy and I both loved to cook, but Jules had gone the other way. Seamus was the house chef, but Jules did enjoy baking.
Later, we moved into the living room while Seamus, Dad, and Damon cleaned the kitchen.
“Don’t forget, you’ll need travel insurance. And it’ll be cold, so make sure you take warm clothes,” Cam urged.
“Yes Nana,” I replied.
He smiled. Cam had donated $500, which was very kind of him. Jules showed me the printout and I was stunned and touched by how many people in my life had donated. Mish had given $40, which had probably touched me the most because I knew how much she was struggling. Her mother was sick, and Mish worked two jobs to pay the bills.
Every single person who donated received a handwritten thank-you, except for Brian Boob-man Hendricks, who none of us knew and had not posted any identifying details. I’d take his two dollars though, even if it was just in appreciation of my boobs inthe main picture. I guess it’s one of the drawbacks of having a public fundraising campaign on an open platform. I was stunned to see that Harrison’s parents had donated $100. He obviously hadn’t told them about how I tortured him for months. Or perhaps they did and approved of the karma delivered to their filthy, cheating son.
“I’m just saying, I’ve been to France in the winter, and it gets pretty cold,” Cam insisted.
His hand was resting on his thigh, so I placed my hand over his, not expecting the sudden jerk he gave. I withdrew my hand quickly.
“Sorry, I was just going to say thank you for donating. It was really sweet of you.”
He grabbed my hand back. “No, I was just surprised. And it is my pleasure. You deserve this, Miranda, and one day I’ll be able to tell my grandchildren how I helped a famous artist reach her destiny.”
He was always so sincere and thoughtful. This man was a cinnamon roll. I’d never seen him argue with anyone. He once fought his sister for the last piece of turkey, but he was a teen then and apparently Lucy had won the fight, so no harm done.
We continued to sit, him holding my hand in his. It was becoming awkward, and I could see Jules giving me a strange look. I slowly withdrew my hand so he didn’t mistake the move for an “ew cooties” action.
“I promise I’ll update everyone in emails. Obviously, I’ll post when I can on Insta, but I can’t give you the real lowdown on a public platform.” I was an excellent correspondent, and I loved how easy social media had made it to stay in touch with people.
“Do you have roaming? Reliable internet? Can I text you?” Cam asked.
“Yeah, of course. I’m not going to the desert,” I joked. The thought of one-on-one communication with Cam sent a warmth through me that I hadn’t expected. He was Good Cam. Sweet Cam. Thoughtful Cam. Handsome Cam. Hmm, handsome. That was a new adjective for him.
Chapter 17: Cam W — Conspiracies
Oft expectation fails, and most oft there where most it promises
All’s Well That Ends Well, William Shakespeare
Miranda had been gone for two weeks, and I found myself spending a great deal of time at Damon’s and Cordy’s. I felt close to her there, even though she was miles away from me. She’d kept her promise, updating her Insta regularly. Her last picture had me touching the screen. She was standing with an old man. Both were smiling and holding up some kind of bread. She seemed happy, truly alive.
“Cordy, I’m not telling you what to do. I’m just reminding you that you’re not good at this. You’re going to get yourself in trouble.” Damon was trying to convince Cordy to stop trying to prank Bad Cam.
