Page 50 of Cam Girl

The familiar hatred and disgust washes through me and my chest constricts.

I rub my finger over one of the more visible cellulite bands near my hips, like slightly pale claw marks.

Oddly enough, camera work helped.

I might want to hide my lower half, but people pay for it. They pay to watch and talk and offer up compliments on the part of my body I hate the most. The one that gets my gorge to rise whenever I bother looking at it in the mirror.

“It’s not so bad.”

I whisper the familiar mantra out loud.

Starting the camera work has been as much to make extra money as to prove to myself I wasn’t going to hold back. I wasn’t going to keep trying to hide myself, or obsess over my flaws.

I slap my own ass and watch the fat jiggle the way I know it always does. Scoffing, I turn away and grab a towel, wrapping it around the offending body part.

No amount of exercising helped. Therapy might help someday, once I get ahead on my bills. Hiding in the trailer never helped, either, isolating myself from the public. The bully in my brain is never going to be silent and so I force myself to step outside of my comfort zone.

Like showing my ass to virtual strangers. Like dealing with Soren when he launches a full scale verbal attack.

I’m not ready to leave and go home yet, but staying here hurts me. Which is worse?

I head into my room and hurry to change into a fresh pair of pants and a comfortable shirt, both of them loose. Sliding my feet into a pair of Toms, I head into the kitchen. There’s still a few inches of coffee left in the pot, and travel cups in the cabinet.

I have coffee, I have cash, and I have a car.

Whether it’s smart or not, I grab my keys and crank the car into a semblance of life. It protests, of course, after a chilly night and a couple of days of disuse.

Soren has got to be done with the fallen tree by now. Whether he’s still out there making a point or off somewhere else sulking, I guess it doesn’t matter.

I hate the way my mind skips back to him, like it can’t possibly stay away.

If Aiden were there with us today, then he’d have played moderator. Not that anyone should have to get between two grown-ass adults and pretend to be Switzerland, but Aiden does it well.

His kindness is appreciated.

If I didn’t know they were related, then I’d assume Aiden sticks around out of pity. It’s got to be hard being Soren, with his shriveled black heart and awful personality.

By the time I make it to the downed tree, the only evidence of it having been there is piles of sawdust and mud tracks from the ATV. Soren’s gone.

I gun my car past the area out of ridiculous spite and take the turn toward town.

Holly Brook is even quainter than I thought when I first passed through.

The main street is of course the draw, with several old Victorian houses that look like they’ve been converted into businesses. One has a detailed sign marking it as a bed and breakfast, and another is a bookstore slash coffee shop.

I find a parking space and get out, drawing in a breath. The day has warmed considerably since the morning’s chill.

The first hints of spring are morethan visible in the bright green buds on the trees lining the sidewalk. It’s close to lunchtime on the weekend, so the streets are busier than they might have been any other day.

My gaze skips toward the vet clinic and the glowing sign in the window.

“No, Gilli.”

I never listen to myself.

It’s clear Tase keeps hours on Saturdays. The man strikes me as the type who works not because he wants to but because he needs it. He’s either doing it for the community, because he knows they are always going to seek him out, or because he’s outrunning the demons in his head.

Maybe I recognize the type because I see it every single day.

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