S1 E7 – What Do You See?
Part 1 of 3
It's been a very long day and they are finally sitting side by side at La Kaz, unwinding from a whirlwind arrest and mounds of paperwork to get Eddie, the murderous bass player, out of the station's holding cell and into Government House's more permanent facility. They all wanted rid of Eddie. No one wanted to spend the night baby-sitting a pumped up, clapped out, done in, selfish, greedy, small-minded 'artiste' who killed the goose that laid the golden eggs... over creative differences, if you can believe it.
Richard shakes his head sorrowfully. He will never understand all the many petty reasons why people kill other people. His mind suddenly echoes with a bossy little voice… 'it's either sex or money, money or sex'… and he shakes his head again. No, he doesn't want that particular voice in his head, he'd rather have…
His gaze slides sideways. I'd rather have HER voice in my head… or anywhere near by, really, just as long as she talks to me. Hell, I'd even settle for yelling as long as she isn't actually swearing in French. His gaze slides away and he sighs. Yes, come to think of it, I can think of one very good reason to kill another person… if that person hurt another person that a third person happened to love very much. In fact, a person might kill another person who even threatened to hurt a person that…
He frowns tiredly. Oh, my head is whirling and I haven't even finished my beer yet. Besides, there's something else bothering me, isn't there? Yes, there is. I'm afraid I might have given a wrong impression, that she got the wrong idea, that she might think that I… that I…
Before he can finish the thought, he leans forward to touch her wrist. She turns to him immediately, almost like she's been waiting. He clears his throat and says low, "Um, Camille, I just want to clear up something that I said earlier when we were looking at Solly's album covers…" He can feel his cheeks heating up. Damn my fair skin! I hope she doesn't notice.
She doesn't seem to notice because she interrupts him, "When you noticed something that no one else ever would, the two different medallions?"
"Yes," he murmurs, "but no, not that. Um, I asked 'What do you see?' and you said…"
Her face stills, "And I said 'A woman with impressively large breasts'. Yes, I remember. Why?"
He grimaces, shifts in his chair, looks away, "Um, well, it was your assumption that I… that I… well, that I was only interested in…"
Very quietly, she says, "Impressively large breasts?"
He nods guiltily, "Right, right, what you said. I just wanted to clear up any misunderstanding about that. I wasn't interested in… in… er, the woman… but…"
She gives him a narrow-eyed glance, "I know, you were being your usual brilliant self, seeing what everyone else missed, the clue that escaped notice. You were the hound on the scent and I… I…" She hangs her head, "… and I let my insecurities interfere. I'm sorry."
This surprises him. His head jerks up and he mutters, "You're sorry? Why?"
Now it's her turn to look away, "For thinking you were like all the other men I've ever worked with, obsessed with big breasts and making fun of me."
His cheeks heat up for a totally different reason as his blood comes to a quick boil, "Men? Making fun of you? I'll have them up on charges! I want names!"
She flaps a dismissive hand, "They don't matter, it's all in the past. Things changed when I came back to the island, changed for the better. I grew up with Dwayne, he's like an uncle, and Fidel is wonderful, like a younger brother." Her eyes dart up briefly, "Then there's you…"
His breath catches in his throat, "Yes? What about me?" Then he groans, "Oh, please don't tell me I'm the father figure! Anything but that!
She shakes her head, looking amused, "No, not that. You aren't like anyone I've ever known before. You listen to me and treat me like an equal and not… not…"
His skin flashes hot to cold to hot again, "Not… what?"
Her voice is barely audible, "Not like a woman with unimpressive breasts."
They sit silently then, both of them shocked into quiet desperation, her hands knotting between her knees and his heel drumming a frantic tattoo beneath his chair. Just when the silence stretches to the breaking point, they both lunge forward and speak at once…
Her cheeks are crimson, "Not that I expect you to notice…"
His cheeks are very pale, "I assure you that I don't…"
They stutter to a confused halt, their words tangling in the space between them. They slowly ease back into their chairs and try to study the other without eyes meeting. It's a delicate and doomed effort so they end up staring down at the table, wishing like hell they knew what to say to rescue this explosive conversation.
END – part 1