Chapter 8

© Copyright 2009 by Elizabeth Delayne



Tyler stretched slowly, one arm, then the other, wincing a little as he firmly tugged on the muscles in his back. They were stiff, but not without reason. He enjoyed this kind of work for the most part, with the kids hanging out, sometimes helping out, forming that easy bond. He really—

Sudden cheers of little girls made him turn, look in that direction where nearly a half dozen of their cameras had already turned. There on the other side of the playground under the glow of the streetlight, was Jamie. She stood at the start of where they had laid the hopscotch course that afternoon. It was long, made of colorful hard recycled rubber mats, inlaid into the ground.

As the girls cheered for her she smiled at them—even as tired as she had to be—and then said something. The girls squealed, cheering whatever she had said. One of them tugged on her shirt and she leaned down, listened to her, and smiled again at whatever was said. Just a little conversation between girls. He wondered what the secrets were.

Tyler couldn’t help but smile himself.

As she started, the girls cheered her on. One foot then two, then one and one—different combinations as she hopped down. The look on her face was a mixture of concentration and simple joy. As she reached the end landed on both feet outside the last box, the smile on her face.

Something clicked, like a camera capturing details and he saw her–more as a little girl. City-girl, born and bred. Farm girl, in a life she chose.

It was almost as if a lens had telescoped right into the moment, blocking every thing else out.

A capture. A heartbeat.

And a real camera. Pointed right at him.

All captured on film.

He sighed.

* * *

Streetlights slowly slid by the long windows. The day had been long and hot, with the sun beating down on them for much of the day. They’d had to rotate in and out of the bus, taking breaks, making sure they were drinking enough water. They were all in desperate need of showers.

The blue skies had begun to fade into night before they were able to have a formal ceremony to turn the new playground over to the families in the community. Which meant, of course, multiple shots, filming, questions and every other unnatural occurrence that came with reality television.

The playground had turned out fantastic. They had been able to lay down a new court of concrete, install new basketball goals, two swing sets, a seesaw, jungle gym, as well as mark off permanent hopscotch and other “street game” layouts. The children had been watching all day, coming in to ask questions, bringing their parents. The teens had immediately brought out their basketballs to try out the new court.

The guys asked if the team would stick around, watch the game—just as excited about the chance to be on television as they were to have a new court. Tyler and Cameron joined in briefly. Tyler and Cameron both knew the rules and how to play. They both held their own, but there was no doubt they were out shined by some of the neighborhood kids on the court.

Still, it hadn’t hurt to watch and the filming never stopped.

“I’m beat,” Cameron dropped down on the motor home’s sofa as it rumbled through the city streets.

Jamie had curled her legs underneath her and leaned into the corner at the other end of the sofa from Cameron, trying not to watch as the cameraman filmed their downtime. Again.

She fought the female urge to look back over at Tyler, half afraid that the camera could capture—would know—that her thoughts kept returning to him, repeating little shots and scenes from throughout the day.

How he’d looked taking leadership as they lifted the new goal into place.

The way he’d come over and carried on a conversation between George and herself as they ate lunch.

“Me too,” she forced herself to push those thoughts aside. “I think I could sleep right here.”

“I’d love an actual bed tonight. One with four legs on a floor,” George closed the door on their miniature fridge and settled down at the table.

Tyler laughed as he stretched his arms up high, nearly touching the top of the motor home. “You get a real bed tonight. And a your very own shower.”

“I want an elliptical machine,” Thessa, who had curled up across from Jamie, said.

“After all that?” George asked in surprise.

She shrugged as she tipped back her bottled water. “Different muscles.”

“I think all my muscles are calling out for a masseuse,” Felicity murmured.

Jamie groaned her agreement. Who knew how long it would take them to get to the hotel.

“We just need to be ready for the next thing,” Cameron looked to Tyler. “Next up is a challenge, right?”

“Most likely.”

“And we’ll meet the other team,” Felicity added.

“It’s time.”

“Do you know anything about them?” George, closed the lid to his water bottle, rolled it between his hands.

“We know what they know,” Tyler dropped down between Jamie and Cameron as he laughed. He leaned back into the cushions stretched out his arms along the back of the sofa.

She blinked, saw the camera on her.

And inwardly sighed. She didn’t even know what kind of face she’d been making. Or–what exactly her thoughts had been.

“There’s six of them,” Tyler was saying as she focused back in. “And six of us. Their strengths play against our weaknesses or they have the same conglomeration we have. A brain,” he said, nodding to George, “a medical professional, and extreme sports enthusiast.”

“I resent not being labeled the brain,” Cameron mused.

George laughed; it rumbled deep in his chest. “Try being labeled one. I’d like to be the extreme sports champ for once.”

“At least you got a nod. And what do we fall under?” Thessa asked with a raised eyebrow, referring to herself and Felicity who were both there as college students.

“You’re planning to go into law, so you’re definitely more than a pretty face with a mass communications degree. And Felicity can speak Spanish fluently.”

“Semi fluently,” Felicity corrected, looking a little worried.

Tyler reached across the bus and patted her on the knee as he gave her a smile that was just going to make Jamie’s grandmother swoon.

“You’ll do fine. You know the rules and ways as well as I. Besides, I doubt my analysis will be the same as the network. You have talents, goals, dreams. We just have to figure out what they are and when we need them.”

“I can work a reaper, a plow and I know how to lift a hay bail,” Jamie supplied, and held up her hands when everyone looked at her. “I’ve lived on a farm for the best part of my adult life.”

Tyler looked at her, his brow raised. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’m just saying. Our strengths that they use may not be the most obvious.”

“They certainly asked enough questions,” George said, his look thoughtful. “I play the trombone, play with a blues band when they need someone to fill in. They asked a lot of questions about that.”

“I danced two years a Julliard,” Thessa said.

“Really?” Jamie asked looked at Thessa–the long limbs, sleek muscles.

“I was in a car accident. I got hurt and my ballerina career was over.”

“So you went to college, met your fiancé,” Jamie said.

Thessa smiled softly, “I did.”

“Excellent,” said Cameron. “So can you do anything cool like a full split or put your feet behind your head?”

Thessa simply stared at him and everyone laughed. “Not anymore.”

* * *

Jamie opened the door to her hotel room and stepped out onto the concrete walkway that lined the building. It was nothing like stepping out onto her grandmother’s porch and watching the sunrise, color bursting forth of flowing grass and farm land.

She stretched and smiled a little into the sunshine. The battery pack of her wireless mike shifted awkwardly and she reached back to readjust it, twisting a little to try and get it right this time. In the distance she heard the hum of the interstate and the movement of the city. It was a sound that was familiar to her, as familiar as the cry of the rooster into the silence of the morning, or the shuffle of choreographed movement as a surgery began. Traffic didn’t bother her morning.

Not that she’d escaped from noise ... just morning tension; snips and snipes over counter space, personal objects, length of showers. Nothing major ... and nothing that had put Jamie in the middle. Just a camera there, witnessing it all.

It was hard to find a moment alone, a moment to wake up and appreciate, a moment to reflect and meditate, a moment to begin a day in prayer. However, she’d grown up in a small apartment in Chicago, with siblings fighting over the bathroom, cereal, missing homework, or just plain early morning grumpiness. It wasn’t something she didn’t know how to deal with.

And it was actually, probably, in Chicago that she’d first learned to make the morning matter.

The sunshine felt good after being in the cool hotel room all night. Her muscles were sore, but the Ibuprofen and the long hot shower she’d grabbed while her roommates slept had helped immensely.

“Morning.”

She turned toward Tyler’s voice. Unshaved, scruffy, wearing casual khaki shorts and a slightly rumpled t-shirt, and held two cups of coffee. He represented everything her grandmother found attractive.

Coffee and Tyler.

And Jamie could understand why.

“Ahh ...” she stumbled around with something to say, part morning, part attraction. “Don’t tell me you’ve been running?”

“A friend of mine picked me up this morning, rode out to the beach for awhile.”

“You went out to the beach?”

He smiled, a dimple peeping through, and shrugged as he handed over one of the coffees. “When else?”

“How early did you get up?” her voice cracked with the absurdity as she raised it, without question, to her lips.

“In time to see the first breaking of the sunrise over the Pacific.”

“You didn’t have very long with your friend.”

“You take what you can get. Besides, he goes out anyway, when he can. Took the opportunity. And I like to be outdoors in the morning. It helps me get perspective,” he took a sip from his own cup. “Want to grab some breakfast? Hotel has a spread laid out in the lobby.”

She pressed a hand to her stomach as it rumbled, as if on cue. A laugh bubbled out of her. “I guess I was headed that way anyway.”

“The other girls up yet?” He smiled, turned around and started toward the front and breakfast. She fell into step beside him.

“Yeah, they’re getting ready,” thankful for the coffee, she blissful sip. “This is good coffee.”

“A perk of living on the bus.”

“Felicity said as much. I have to say, I was thankful for the hotel room.”

“It’s how I roll. I haven’t kept by own apartment since I took the gig here as leader.”

“They let you keep the bus?”

“They write it into my contract.”

“So this is really your home,” she glanced back briefly at the RV and thought of the little apartment in Chicago and her grandmother’s place in Iowa. Both were brimming with things that were just part of ... home. “For ... how many years has it been?”

“On the road for me? Four,” they reached the front of the hotel and he opened the door for her. “But I know a lot of people now. Contacts through this show, family. I stay with them, or go pick them up and we spend a weekend hiking. That kind of thing. And over the years I’ve met people who could use an RV—people who travel a lot. Music. That sort of thing.”

“So you don’t sell it.”

“Find somoene new each year.”

“I guess if you’re travelling, you don’t have a steady ... ahh, I don’t know how to say it without sounding rude.”

“You mean I don’t have a job,” he laughed. “I do a lot of speaking engagements, get paid to travel. And the studio has been good to me. I guess... I’ve been really blessed.”

He looked right at her, for a moment, letting her in. She could have sworn she’d felt the click in her chest, a connection ... so right, so deep, that it seemed to just ... fit.

Startled, he stepped back. “I mean–with not having to work. To travel and ... you know, to do those things I never thought I’d get to do as a kid.”

“Yeah—“ even Jamie struggled to shake herself from the weirdness of the moment. “It seems like a good opportunity.”

And how impersonal did that sound?

Tyler took a deliberate step back.

“And there,” he said as he headed to the buffet and Jamie saw what he’d seen first–the camera, following their every move. “I think this our first camera of the day.”

She groaned out a weak laugh and tried to be a good sport about it. After all, whatever blame she placed on her grandmother, she was the one who had signed her name to the dotted line.

“Should I tell them about your intuition of my need for coffee?”

He turned, grinned at her, but his voice, when he spoke, was tender and soft enough to be meant for their ears alone—well, that and the microphone.

“You can tell them anything you want, Jamie. Don’t be afraid for me.”


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