Another fast update thanks to my awesome reviewers and constant naggers (lol j/k I 3 you guys) but I'm having too much fun writing this. We get to meet the "other men" now so here you go…
Disclaimer: I own nothing…enjoy!
Cammie pulled out her ear buds as she jogged up the steps to her apartment building after her daily morning jog. As she jogged up the steps she noticed a man with shoulder length shaggy hair giving her a glassy-eyed smile.
"What are you looking at psycho?" she asked with a disgusted look.
"Forever will I remember these first words from your lips," the guy said kissing Cammie's hand, "Forgive me, I am Antonio Bartillini I have come here to America to make you, Cammie Morgan, my bride."
Cammie started at him, mouth slightly agape.
"Ah, your silence is captivating," Antonio sighed.
"You're putting me on right?" Cammie exclaimed, "Did my sister put you up to this?"
"You have a sister? I only pray that she may not be too jealous of your beauty," he gushed.
"Okay, now I know you're crazy," Cammie said trying to maneuver around him.
"Please, let me try to explain," Antonio pleaded, "Two days ago, as I slept, a vision hit me like a strike of lightning. I was somewhere else…in the heavens above Nunzio…swimming in the clouds…shoo shoo shoo."
"Um, do you have one of those medical ID bracelets?" Cammie asked as she watched Antonio pretend to swim around.
"And through the clouds I saw it!" Antonio exclaimed, "A face! Your face, cara mi!" Antonio reached into his backpack and pulled out a sketchbook and flipped it open to reveal a painting of Cammie's face.
"Hey, that's pretty good," Cammie said admiring the drawing.
"It was uncontrollable, like a fever," Antonio said turning the pages and on each page there was a different drawing of Cammie.
"Is that a picture of my library card?" Cammie asked incredulously.
"I saw everything!" Antonio exclaimed still flipping through the sketchbook, landing on a drawing of Cammie taking a bath. Cammie grabbed the sketchbook disgusted and slammed it shut.
"Okay, I get the picture," she said.
"I knew that I must travel to New York, that I must find this Cammie Morgan, and that I must…"he paused searching for the right words.
"Borrow library books under her name?" Cammie suggested sarcastically.
"Make her love me like the desert flower loves the morning dew!" Antonio finished.
"Okay, off my steps psycho," Cammie said pushing Antonio off her steps.
"Psycho, a pet name for me no?" Antonio smiled.
"Look, I know this is probably just some elaborate prank but I'm really not in the mood," Cammie said, "I'm late for work and I don't have any time to deal with police paperwork, so if you can leave right now I won't call the cops. How's that sit with ya' farm boy?"
"I have no fear of the law, for my quest is singular, but if my love asks this task of me I must comply," he said packing up his sketchbook and turned to go, "We will meet again, principessa."
At Work:
"Details, I want details," Liz pestered Cammie as they walked down the hallway of the Gallagher office headquarters towards Cammie's office.
"There's really not much to tell," Cammie started, "I mean, the food was extraordinary, the sculptures around the piazza were stunning but the whole thing was a little too frilly for my taste."
"Something happened," Liz said grinning.
"Nothing happened," Cammie insisted.
"You got swept away," Liz said dreamily, "And don't lie to me, because I'll know."
"You don't know anything," Cammie said sorting through some papers.
Liz stared at her, giving her a look that said 'you've got to be kidding me'. "What do you know," Cammie said spinning around to face Liz.
"Hah!" Liz exclaimed excitedly. Cammie ignored her and walked into her office, sitting down in her desk chair. Liz followed after her, sat down in a chair across from Cammie, leaned her elbows on her desk and stared at her intently.
"It was doomed from the start," Cammie said giving in to Liz's stare.
"Spill it!" Liz persisted.
"First of all, he's from Brooklyn," Cammie started.
"A local boy?" Liz said intrigued.
"Second, he writes for USA Today," Cammie continued.
"I love USA Today," Liz smiled.
"And third, he's a liar," Cammie spat, "And a pig. That's three and four actually."
"But he's single," Liz said clarifying.
"I don't want to talk about Zach Goode," Cammie sighed, "We have a huge week ahead of us and you need to arrange the transport of the Vollard etchings."
"Okay, okay," Liz sighed heading for her desk outside of Cammie's office.
"Hey Liz," Cammie called.
"Yeah?" she answered.
"Do you know anything about anyone sending me a singing telegram?" Cammie asked.
"A what?" Liz said puzzled.
"Well not exactly a singing telegram, more like an Italian Peasant gram. You know, for a joke," Cammie said.
"How is that funny?" Liz asked.
"I was hoping you could tell me," Cammie replied.
"Cammie Morgan?" a voice called from the doorway. Cammie and Liz looked up to see a bicycle messenger boy in the doorway.
"Yes?" Cammie asked.
"Sign here please," the messenger boy said handing her a clipboard and a pen. She signed the form and the boy handed her a gift wrapped package and left.
"Ooh, I wonder what it is," Liz said excitedly.
"I don't care what it is," Cammie said tossing the package aside.
"Please," Liz begged holding the package out to her.
"Ugh, fine, but nothing is going to change my mind about Zach Goode," she said as she unwrapped the package, "Not flowers, not chocolate not…bratwurst?"
"There's a card," Liz said picking a piece of paper up off the floor and handed it to Cammie.
"For Cammie. Jeg elsker deg," Cammie read her face crinkling in confusion, "What does that mean?"
"I don't know, but those aren't cheap you know," Liz said, "I had to buy a pack when we tailgated at the Jets game."
"You want 'em, there yours," Cammie said tossing the package to Liz.
"Really?" Liz asked attempting to catch the package but failed.
"Knock yourself out," Cammie said as Patricia walked in.
"Cammie," she said with a forced smile on her face.
"Yeah?" Cammie answered.
"I want you to meet Mr. Smith," Patricia said introducing the old man at her side who only looked at Cammie, "He has just given a very generous donation to the Gallagher."
"That's wonderful," Cammie said cheerfully.
"And now he'd like a tour of our modern art collection. In fact, he asked for you specifically," Patricia said as Mr. Smith smiled beatifically.
In the modern art exhibit:
"This is our most famous painting," Cammie explained leading Mr. Smith through the modern art room, "The Woman with Yellow Hair."
"Yeah, look at that yellow hair," Mr. Smith said staring longingly at Cammie's hair.
"The undulating lines, rounded organic shapes, and saturated hues attest to the artist's appreciation of contemporary developments in painting such as Surrealism. Picasso was influenced by their investigation into dreams as a portal to the subconscious," Cammie said turning around to find Mr. Smith staring lovingly at her, "And the colors he has chosen…may represent the dream imagery."
"You bet," Mr. Smith said never taking his eyes off of her.
"Mr. Smith," Cammie started.
"Please, call me Charles," he interjected.
"Charles, you're not really interested in modern art are you?" Cammie asked.
"No, not really," Mr. Smith chuckled, "Got grandkids back in Duluth that draw the same doodles as that."
"So…why are you here?" Cammie asked.
"Ever see Harold and Maude?" Mr. Smith asked.
"What?" Cammie said puzzled.
"Look, I know it's a May-December kind of romance but I can offer you things that a younger fellow can't," Mr. Smith said, "I ain't saying that I'm Bill Gates or something but you can't be the bratwurst king of the Midwest without putting away a few bucks."
"That was you," Cammie said shocked.
"That was our top of the line," Mr. Smith explained, "They won the Sheboygan Brat off three years running."
"What's jeg elsker dog?" Cammie asked.
"It means 'I love you'," Mr. Smith said with a creepy smile.
"Okay, that's it, tours over," Cammie said throwing her hands up and walking away.
"Wait! Let me explain," Mr. Smith said hurrying after her, "Two days ago, I got an itch."
"I really don't want to hear this," Cammie said covering her ears.
"I mean not a terrible itch you know, normally I have very moist skin," he said, "So I went to put some Noxzema on it and numbers flashed in my head.4-2-3-3-5-0-2. I wrote them in Noxzema on the bathroom wall."
"My office phone number," Cammie said incredulously.
"Yeah," Mr. Smith said, "I called and as soon as your secretary said your name, I knew."
"You knew what?" Cammie said, almost too afraid to even ask.
"That this was my destiny ya' know," Mr. Smith said happily, "To offer you a life of luxury, security and all the bratwurst you can eat."
"Okay stop, just stop! I want you to leave! And I want you to tell whoever put you up to this that it's not funny and I hate it!" she yelled as she stormed out of the room.