For Your Eyes Only (Camren)

Three

My hand was shaking so badly I could barely dial the number. I'd tried and failed at least eight times—either my courage ran away or my fingers hit the wrong numbers. When did dialing a phone become so difficult? When did they start making the space between the numbers so small? How did it get so late? Was it too early to call? I finally cut the excuses and dialed.

My heart skipped at the first ring. My stomach jumped at the second. My mouth got very dry at the third. The anticipation was killing me. I stopped breathing when the call connected.

"Hello, you've reached Karla. You know what to do."

A familiar beep followed her message and I listened to dead air and stared out my kitchen window. For weeks I'd rehearsed what I'd say, but at the moment I needed it the most, I forgot everything including my name. I quickly hung up, like I'd gotten caught doing something I wasn't supposed to.

If I called again, she'd see the caller ID and know I lost my nerve. How embarrassing was that? I'd bought a burner phone from the liquor store around the corner and could very easily buy another. There was no way I was going to call Karla from my own phone. I was stupid gaga about her, but not that stupid.

Several days later, I dialed again. If she mentioned my previous call, I'd tell her I hadn't wanted to leave a message. If I got her machine again, I'd simply read what I'd written on the blue paper in front of me. She answered on the second ring.

"Hello, this is Karla."

Her voice was husky and sexy, as I remembered it. It was the way I heard it in my dreams.

"Hello?"

"Uh, yes. Sorry, hello." So much for following my script. The words in front of me blurred.

"Is there something you needed?" Karla asked.

Boy, do I ever, I thought. "You, uh, danced at a party I was at a few weeks ago," I said, almost stuttering. Could it get any worse than this?

"Okay." Karla said when I didn't say any more.

"I'd like to book you for another, uh, event."

"Tell me about it."

"What do you want to know?" God, what an idiot!

"How many people will be there? What's the occasion? Where? I don't dance with men in the room and I only dance." Her voice was strong, her stipulations firm.

"No, no men," I said quickly, this time due to nerves.

"Okay," she said obviously waiting to hear more.

"Sorry, I'm a little nervous," I said. Might as well, I thought. Make fun of yourself before someone else does.

"If you've seen me dance before, you know there is nothing to be nervous about."

If it were only that simple. "It would just be one person and no special occasion." I finally answered her questions.

"Who is the person?"

Ready, set, go. "Me." The extended silence made me want to hang up and pretend this was all just a bad dream.

"I only dance," she said again, forcefully.

"That's all I want," I choked out. This was nowhere in my prepared remarks.

"Where specifically did you see me?"

"At a birthday party for a friend of mine." I heard a soft chuckle come over the scratchy line. Cheap phone.

"I do a lot of birthdays. Can you be a bit more specific? A name or maybe an address."

I gave her Normani's name and address and waited. The longer she didn't acknowledge that she remembered the party, the closer I was to hanging up. I pictured her going through a bunch of faces like she was looking through a mug book of criminals.

"Okay," she finally said and I was flooded with relief. "Where and when?"

She wasn't available the first three days I mentioned. We finally settled on Tuesday of the following week. I gave her the name of the hotel.

"I only dance. I don't turn tricks. I don't care how much you offer me. And I tell two people where I'm going and call them the minute I'm done."

"Sounds like a smart plan. And all I want is a dance, nothing more," I said.

My statement was met with another long silence. "Hello?" I said awkwardly.

"I'm here."

More silence. I was ready to hang up when she said, "Okay. What's your name?"

I knew she'd ask, and for a second I thought about making one up, but then I realized she'd know the minute she saw me. So much for anonymity.

"Lauren."

I heard a quick intake of breath before I quickly mumbled goodbye and hung up.

* * *

"Why are you so jittery? You can't sit still and you keep looking at your watch. Do you have some place to be? You invited me, remember?"

Normani peppered me with her questions halfway through dinner. I'd invited her in an attempt to get my mind off where I was supposed to be in ninety minutes and who I was going to see. The twelve days between talking with Karla and today had felt like twelve hundred days in hell. I couldn't sleep, my attention span was little more than a nanosecond and I could barely keep any food down.

"Sorry, no. I've just got a lot on my mind and I was hoping you'd be a pleasant distraction."

"Want to talk about it? Is it your job?"
I shook my head.

"Your parents being demanding again?"

I wish. "No. Can I play the BFF card and say I don't want to talk about it?"

Normani gave me a hard look for a very long time. I tried not to squirm under her examination.

"How long has it been since you've had sex?"

So long I couldn't remember. "I've been busy" was my standard, noncommittal, bullshit answer.

"That long, huh?" Normani could always see right through me. I had to be careful.

"That's not it," I said again, trying to add more levity in my voice. "Are you still seeing Emma?" I named the latest in a long line of women Normani dated.

"I'll let you change the subject if you promise me you're not in any trouble." She waited for my answer.

Like I was going to tell Normani I hired Karla as my private stripper. I was so in trouble. "I promise," I said crossing my heart and putting up the Girl Scout oath fingers, "I'm not in trouble." I was so very much in trouble.