Cameron

Okay this may or may not be a regular thing. I often have characters in my head – they want out. I usually just ignore them because they don’t necessarily go anywhere. They’re not part of a story, they’re not short enough for MFM, they just clamor to be heard. Perhaps in the future they will want more told. Maybe they will become part of a story. I don’t know. But this way they get to tell their story. Introducing Cameron:

I took a small sip of my champagne as I smiled politely at the glittery couples walking by. I had no idea why I let me sister talk me into joining her for this shindig. It wasn’t my fault she had to attend these kind of functions. She’d chosen to stay in the life, I’d made the choice to get out. When father had asked if I would be in attendance, I gave him a flat out no. But of course, I couldn’t say no to my twin.

She’d wheedled and begged until I gave in. Not only to being her “date”, but to the glamour day preceding it. She informed my that my usual
jeans and t-shirt would not fit in. All in that snooty voice of hers she used to impress the fancy folk. That almost gave me enough ammunition to turn and leave but then she got the giggles. Yeah, that would be my sister. She could fake it with the best of them. Oh don’t get me wrong, she was definitely part of the “crowd”. And she loved spending daddy’s money. But honestly, she earned it.

Most people just saw the superficial about her, the glam and glitter. Little did they know that she snorted when drinking beer and she was hell on wheels when she didn’t get her own way. And she was smart, so damn smart it was scary. Me, I was good with my hands. I thought our father would have a fit when I told him that I was going to design bikes for a living. Until he saw that first article in Forbes. My partner and I had made it with our engine design. We’d even started branching out into boat engines, which was why I was now living on the water.

With all the testing I was doing of our engines, I’d come to love being on the water. And it was perfect for me. I could pick up stakes anytime I wanted, and there was plenty of room to park my bike along the slip. I caught my sister’s eyes across the room and raised my glass with a smile. I saw my own smile, the one I saw in the mirror, smile back at me. I pitied people who didn’t have twins. We were close, closer than anyone else I’d ever let into my life.

I waved a waiter down and was about to ask for a shot of tequila when someone across the room caught my eye. Still watching her as she talked to a small group of people around her, I told the waiter to just bring me a bottle and 2 glasses of ice with lime. Handing him my champagne glass I slipped my way through the crowd. A quick nod brought my sister to my side. I saw a few heads turn at the picture we made together. We were an odd set – but striking. Our genes had dictated that our faces would look like mirror images but our personalities had made for some interesting changes.

Sarai’s hair was a frosty blonde, perfectly groomed. Her lithe body was the perfect form for the fashion designers clamoring to be “THE” designer. She worked out with a personal trainer, some fancy stuff that I didn’t even bother to remember. I don’t think she was allowed to break a sweat. I on the other hand earned every muscle the hard way – through sweating my ass off. Where she was dainty, I was steel. My hair was short and dark, styled now thanks to her day at the spa. I actually did get my hair cut on a regular basis. And dyed. It was my one vanity. I’d found the girls loved it.

Sarai said my hair made me look a bit like the black Irish rogue stock that we came from. Well at least on my father’s side. Mother was a dainty Southern blossom, honey-blonde-butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth lady. I liked being called a rogue. I resisted the urge to run my fingers through the perfectly coiffed hair the silly stylist had left me with. “Do you know her,” I asked in a hushed voice.

“Cam, are you scoping out the guests again,” she said with a chuckle. “Which, the ice blonde?” A long nail tapped at her chin as she thought about it. “Ah yes, now I remember,” grabbing my hand she guided me over to the group that was beginning to drift off.

I watched as they greeted one another, made some small talk, trying not to tap my foot impatiently. I let my eyes wander discreetly. Her dress was conservative, softly draping a curvy figure that was probably the bane of her existence. I’d often heard the ladies I dated complain about not being able to eat anything. But me, I loved the feel of curves against me. Softness and something other than bones. And I’d always been a fan of breasts that would more than fill my hands.

I almost missed my cue as I imagined my hands cupping that fullness.

“Lizbet, I don’t think you’ve met my sister, Cameron have you,” Sarai asked as she held out a hand to me.

I smiled as I stepped forward, my hand extended to clasp hers. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure,” I said. “Nice to meet you Lizbet.” I liked the gracious curve to her lips as she shook my hand.

“Nice to meet you too Cameron,” came the husky reply.

I watched as she took the last sip of her champagne. “Here, let me take that for you.” My timing was impeccable as the waiter appeared at my shoulder with the bottle I’d requested. I traded him her glass and a tip for the two on the tray and the bottle, listening to my sister make her excuses. “Sure you won’t stay for a drink Sarai,” I asked. “I can ask for another glass.”

Sarai laughed softly, “You know I’ve got no taste for your tequila. Keep Lizbet company while I make my rounds. She brushed against me with a whispered “Behave,” and was gone into the crowd.

Turning back to Lizbet I motioned with the bottle. “Can I interest you in a glass of tequila? This is the good sipping kind. Well aged and smooth.” When she gave me a nod, I filled both glasses and handed her one.

“Speaking of smooth,” she said.

“What,” I said with a crooked grin. “Oh you mean the drinks? I will admit I saw you across the room and you looked like you could use something stronger than champagne. And I’m always happy to share one of my passions with a pretty lady.”

“That begs the question doesn’t it. But I’m almost afraid to ask about your other passions,” her eyes lit up with a mischievous glint.

“Oh but we’re not here to talk about me,” I protested. “I’m not all that interesting. Let’s talk about you. What is it you do?” I was already liking her a lot. She was smart and obviously able to cut through the bullshit. I watched her take a sip of the tequila and then lick her lips. Another sip followed as a look of pleasure crossed her face.

“This is good,” she said. “I’ve only had tequila in margaritas. And a few shots one weekend in Cabo.” A slight shudder followed those words,”Those shots do not bring back good memories.” She brought the glass up closer to her nose and took a sniff, inhaling the tequila and lime. “What do I do? I excise problems.”

“Really,” I said. “And what instrument do you use to do that?” I was sensing that there was a bit of humor in her answer.

“A scalpel,” came the answer as she sipped her tequila.

“Ah. That would explain the hanger ons and your lack of enthusiasm.” I chuckled softly. “I bet you get a lot of people telling you everything wrong with them once they find out you’ve got an M.D. after your name.”

“And of course in this kind of environment, one of the first things you discuss is what you do for a living,” she said with a sigh. “Your turn.”

“What do I do?” I took a generous sip of tequila as I thought about my answer. Most of the time in the “right circles” – no one got what I did. Saying I worked on bikes made them think of mechanics, so I often just said I ran a business with my partner. That they understood. “I like to get my hands dirty.”

She laughed softly. “Such a big opening there. You are a bit of a rogue aren’t you.”

I threw my head back and laughed. I loved when a woman refused to let me get away with anything. And she had a sense of humor. What a lethal package. “I build engines for motorcycles and boats.”

She cocked her head as she looked at me. “Why do I have a feeling that it’s more complicated than that.”

I grinned, “I’d be happy to show you. My bike is at the marina but some other night we could take a moonlit ride.”

She looked into her empty glass for a moment before looking me in the eyes with no pretense. “I’d like that very much,” she said as she passed me her glass for a refill.