My mother bought me my first Camden Joy book for Christmas two years ago. I wanted this book for almost six months after reading about it in Geek Overthrow zine. When I tore open the shiny Christmas paper and my eyes beheld the orange paperback baring the title The last rock star book; or Liz Phair a rant, my heart leapt and a guilty tingle went down my spine.
Now here I was two years later waiting in line at Border's bookstore for Camden to sign my copy of Palm tree 13. I had butterflies in my stomach I sat thinking of all the clever things I could say to him. Nervously I looked to the front of the line trying to see him. From what I could see he looked unhappy, and I don't blame him most everyone ahead of me and said something along the lines of "Camden dude, I liked your book it was so like me."
I just sighed and thought to myself. "No, it is not like you, you slacker moron!" a big smile came to my lips when I realized I would be the last one in line. I didn't know whether or to be excited. Slowly I approached his table. Camden looked up at me the tiredness in his eyes seemed to dissolve away as he saw me smile.
"Hello, and what's your name?" he smiled back at me and I felt that tingle again only this time it wasn't anywhere near my spine.
"Laura." My voice sounded far off and distant to my mind. I watched him signing my copy I felt my lip tremble I wanted to say something but couldn't.
"Well, Laura how would you like to go out to dinner with this old writer?"
"Yes." I about jumped out of my skin onto him. he laughed looking at me.
I watched him as he gathered up his coat and briefcase and finished his business with the storeowner. A shock of electricity passed through me as he grabbed my arm to walk with me.
"So, you actually read my work?" Camden sounded so amused.
"Oh, yes sir, I even did a monologue from your Liz Phair book for my forensics piece."
He laughed and turned to look at me. "There are no monologues in that book."
I had to crane my neck to look up at him "I know but the way I did it, it was"
At the coffeehouse we talked mostly of my aspirations as a writer over cheesecake.
"So, you write erotica?" he asked as we waited for another slice.
"Yeah, you don't think I'm sluttish?" I giggled as my foot touched his leg under the table.
"No, I like a woman who knows what she wants." He smiled a slightly devilish smile.
As we sat in the coffeehouse the world seemed to disappear or go on with out us, I always felt that it didn't matter now that I was being heard, actually listened to.
Soon the second round of cheesecake came, and we started talking about my father not wanting me to write, then about how he decided to write. Soon we were on a third slice, time seemed to be whizzing past us.
"Would you like to come to my hotel room, and continue our chat?" Camden said smiling hopefully. I breathed in deeply to calm myself so I didn't sound like a total idiot.
"Yes." Was all I managed to say, but it was all I needed to say.