Page 12 of Lady and the Camp
Okay, this conversation would take forever at this pace. “I’m the new office assistant. I’m looking for my lodgings.”
This guy was a case study in facial expressions. The sheer number of changes in ten seconds had to set some kind of record. And he was sosweaty. But weirdly, not in a bad way. Almost like the sweat suited him. I definitely wasn’t minding how his shirt clung to his lean, toned arms.
Dark hair, cut short on the sides, longer on top, beard. Me into beards? No. His wasn’t long at least but it wasn’t shaped either. It looked almost accidental. Like he’d told the hair follicles:Have at it!to explore new areas of his face.
I shook sense into myself. This was myjob. Marcy delivered. I had a place off the grid to lay low, rent free, and I might even make a few bucks in the process.
Besides, the guy just fell halfway off a roof. “Do you think you have a head injury? Those are no joke. Can I walk you to the camp nurse? I’m assuming you have on-site medical.”
He rubbed his neck again, wincing. “I don’t have a head injury. Did you say you’re the new office assistant?”
“Yes.”
“Not here for an interview.”
“Correct.”
“You passed the background check?”
I nodded. “All clear.”
He seemed to be taking in my whole look. “What are you wearing?”
I was confident he wasn’t asking for brand names. I’d never been to summer camp myself, so when Marcy told me where I’d be riding out this bad PR wave, my mind thought resort and thus resort wear collections. A breezy tropical print kaftan over a minidress seemed practical enough. My heels were only a measly two inches tall. Totally reasonable for an office setting. I considered this look as upscale casual resort which should be applicable for camp.
I kept this to myself. “I wanted to set a professional impression.”
“Your hair is pink.”
I pressed my lips together to seal shut the first response that came to mind. “How quick of you to notice.” Dangit. Second response wasn’t much better. “Twila didn’t see my hair or clothes as a problem.”
“I bet she didn’t,” he muttered. He appeared to want to say something further but held up his hand instead. He walked past me. Scratch that—limped.
I spun. “Hey, where are you going? Am I supposed to wait here?”
He paused. “I have no idea.”
So, wait here then.
No, this was fine. Everything was fine. I just needed to adjust.
And wait.
The roof he’d been on attached to some sort of large covered area with picnic tables inside. Open walls on three sides and a dusty looking fireplace along the far wall. I left my suitcases and the comforter in its giant plastic bag on the grass and sat at a table facing out at trees and scrubby grass and dirt.
The urge to reach for my phone came so automatic, I couldn’t stop myself. I made contact with the device in my purse, but let it slip from my fingers. It wasn’t even my real phone with all the temptations of the internet. Nope. This sad piece of plastic came prepaid from a gas station. A behind the counter purchase, which added an even more surreal sense to this unexpected life twist.
I peeked at the rectangular device in my purse. To use for calls only.
Calls only. I shuddered.
Thankfully, my smart phone,my precious, existed a mere few feet away, tucked deep in a suitcase. I’d keep tabs on my Beauty Butterfly accounts and think through how to relaunch my career. I’d rebuild my reputation as a friendly expert in the world of natural beauty and skincare. I’d find myself a new brand to work with, one not run by a shady guy with an honest-to-goodness Slurpee machine in his penthouse.
So many red flags ignored.
I had to give Marcy credit. Working in the camp office would make my social media monitoring even easier. I could use Twila’s desktop computer and not even bother with my phone.
Voices sounded from the path emerging from the trees. A group of girls walked toward me in a single file line. The leader, probably in high school, and the rest grade school-aged, maybe ten-year-olds if I estimated right.
