Page 18 of Lady and the Camp
They ragged on me for a lot of things, like my dating life, or absence of one. Like I had time for any of that when I could barely handle directing a run-down camp named after a bug. Try putting that on a dating profile.
Static sounded on my two-way.
“Lucas? How soon can I get Hudson here?” Maggie’s voice squawked from the radio. “These kids are wearing me down. It’s not even noon.”
“Won’t I be staying here?” Hudson asked Twila.
Twila nodded and I snapped. Part of good leadership meant seeing what had to be done and using the resources available. “No. She will not!”
Good leadership most likely didn’t include shouting at subordinates.
I held the radio to my face. “She’ll be on her way. Over.” I pointed the antenna at Twila. “She passed the background check.” I pointed at Hudson. “You. Go find Maggie.”
Hudson grinned. “So, I have a job?”
I grabbed the broken alarm clock and headed to my office. “Yup. It’s your lucky day.”
Chapter 6
Hudson
Ileftthecampoffice with my head held high. A small but key victory. So what if that hot grouch saw me as unqualified? I’d show him. I hadcharm. I could talk my way through just about anything. And sure, I was out of my element here at this rustic excuse for a resort, but I had Midwest roots. I only needed a little time to dig into those roots.
The important part was I’d secured my hideout spot. Off grid and off Wi-Fi. I’d lived in Michigan my entire life up until four years ago and had never heard of the tiny town nearest to camp. Now I had to bide my time and lay low doing whatever it was people did at summer camp.
Back at camp proper, Maggie’s shift from desperation to grateful mentor brightened my mood. She was seriously so appreciative of my presence, it sent little dopamine hits through my body. Like real-life comment notifications, no online interaction required.
A wistful pang hit thinking of my videos. Every new video was an attempt at getting those dopamine hits. Affirmation that me and my brand mattered. Any time a video clocked lower views I blamed myself for becoming unlikeable or worse—irrelevant.
It struck me how I’d seldom felt the good and appreciated sensation the past few months. I experienced a taste with my college friends pulling me back into their inner circle, but before that? I should have sensed the warning signs. The slow creep of people distancing themselves. The creep had been hard to identify while I’d been blinded by the charm of a fame-worshipping billionaire.
I spent the next hour flexing my non-existent craft muscles with the girls. We were stationed at the picnic tables under what they called the rain shelter, where Lucas had tipped from the ladder. He couldn’t even thank me for cushioning his blow with the blanket. Jillian would be happy to note her comforter had saved a frustratingly hot man in need.
I should text her—Gah! No phone!
A new group of campers arrived at my picnic table station. The girls rotated through different craft stations, and after completing each, they received a sticker for their guidebook, which each camper made out of construction paper. Cute. Why hadn’t I ever gone to camp? I would have loved making my own guidebook.
The girls, perhaps ten or so, like my oldest niece, settled around the table. They weren’t as shy as the last group.
“Why is your hair pink?”
“Is Hudson a fancy name?”
“Are you from New York?”
“Do you get manicures?”
“Are you on YouTube?”
The last question froze my smile in place. I dipped into the yarn bucket and pulled out a true reject—frayed, knotted orange. “Do you mean like, my own channel?” I asked.
“You look like this girl who does skincare videos that my older sister watches,” one of the teenage counselors said from the next table over. She was full-figured and pale-skinned with mousy brown hair pulled into a low ponytail. Cute red-framed glasses. Amy was her name. “Only she didn’t have pink hair. At least not that I remember.”
“Oh, how funny.” I pretended to consider the comment as my mind frantically worked up a logical response. Of course these kids would be all over the internet outside of camp. At least here, they couldn’t immediately search for me and out my location. Thankfully, I’d only done the pink hair in recent months, so most of my videos showed me with a different look. Longer, lighter hair with varying color streaks depending on my mood.
Amy’s eyes narrowed as she looked to where Maggie sat at another table. She leaned forward, keeping her voice low. “Maggie’s allowed a cell phone but we aren’t? As counselors? It’s totally unfair. We have to ask Maggie for hers or use the office phone.”
I shrugged, as if I didn’t fully agree with her. “It’s not so bad. It’s like a vacation from your real life.” Ugh, dorky.
