Island Fever Ch. 29

Chapter 29: "Discharge"

----------

"Pamela?" I said after literally stumbling across the 30-year-old beauty in the elegant theater room on this warm and overcast Monday afternoon. Nestled side-ways upon a chair with her legs curled over the right armrest, Pamela appeared to be totally despondent and lifeless. "Pamela? What are you doing in here? Is everything okay?"

After several seconds of silence, Pamela took a deep breath and finally glared up at me. She certainly did not seem all too cheerful or happy. "Does this room have any sort of special significance for you, Jeremy?"

"The movie room?"

"About two weeks ago," Pamela reminded me, apparently trying to hold back an onslaught of tears. "A mere two weeks ago, Jeremy. Do you remember what happened here?"

I nodded my head at her. "We had that incredible talk here in the movie room."

"A talk that lasted for six hours," Pamela sniped in a bitter, hurt voice. "It was the best night of my life because, for the first time in a very long time, I felt like an actual human being. I wasn't an object that night like I am used to being at the strip club where I work." Pamela shook her head at me. "You made me feel special, Jeremy. You made me feel important. You ... you ... you said that you ... that you love me."

"Nothing has changed," I told her. "You are still a very special person. An important person. I do not care what your job is, or how many people you were forced to put yourself on display in front of in order to get along and survive in life. It does not define you as a person, or make you a bad person. And no matter what happens, I still care about you, Pamela. I always will."

She shook her head at me once again. "You don't care about me, Jeremy. You never did..."

I offered her a quizzical expression. "What? Why? How can you say that to me, Pamela? How?"

"Because it's the truth!" she spat out, curling both arms around her front as if she was shivering.

"What do you mean?"

"If you loved me, Jeremy, and really cared for me, you would not have been engaged to Kristanna just one week after that long, amazing talk we had here in the movie room! I have NEVER sat and talked with anyone like I did with you that night! I walked away from our discussion thinking to myself, this is actually the man I am going to marry. Then at the breakfast table yesterday morning, you allow Kristanna to flaunt and flash her engagement ring at everyone and even call her your perfect woman. You were feeding me that same line of BULLSHIT two weeks ago!"

I could not believe that Pamela was screaming at me in such a manner. This warm-hearted and very cerebral woman - who rarely let her emotions show - was giving me an earful. The more I thought about it, though, the more I felt as if I deserved this kind of verbal beat-down. Pamela was right. But I had some legitimate reasons for my recent actions.

Instead of raising my voice at her in return and making this a full-blown argument, I sighed and spoke in a peaceful tone, "I'm sorry, Pamela. I apologize. I know that all of the things that have happened in the past nine days between Kristanna and myself has ultimately come back to hurt you."

"Why did you lie to me? I thought you were honest! I THOUGHT YOU WERE HONEST, JEREMY! You said all those nice things to me ... it was a lie! ALL OF IT WAS A LIE!"

"I did not lie to you, Pamela. I would never do that."

"YES YOU DID!"

"No I didn't..."

"YES YOU DID!"

"NO, I didn't..."

"I want to go home!" Pamela suddenly declared, which caught me completely off-guard.

"What?"

"I want to go home!" she reiterated. "I've thought about it, and made up my mind. I am going to pack up my suitcases and I want you get me a one-way ticket back to the U.S."

I was stunned. "Why ... why do you want to go h-h-home?"

"Because there is no place for me on this island any more!" Pamela hissed. "I am SICK AND TIRED of you, Jeremy, and I am sick and tired of this Godforsaken island! All the other girls do any more is gossip and talk about me behind my back. I cannot go anywhere without hearing the whispers and the snickers! Oh look there's Pamela, she got kicked to the curb by Jeremy. Hey it's Jeremy and Kristanna hugging and kissing in the corner, let's look over at Pamela to see what type of reaction she has to it."

Pamela flailed her arm outward in an extreme fit of anger. "I'M DONE WITH IT! Absolutely done! It is no longer fun for me here, and I just want to go home. Now!"

"Pamela, please ... let me..."

"I want to go home!" she repeated, cutting me off in the middle of my sentence. "That was part of the deal, Jeremy! You promised all of us before we agreed to come to the island that if, no matter the reason, we wanted to go home early, we could at any time we so desired." Pamela nodded her head and surmised, "I'm exercising my out clause. If you cannot get me on a flight out of Lima today or tonight, I want one first thing in the morning. Make it happen!"

"Can we just..."

"You promised us, Jeremy!" Pamela interjected once again. "You promised we could go home at any time, for any reason! Or is this another promise that you're going to break?"

Okay. That comment made me angry. But I was able to hold it in. There was no point in arguing back-and-forth. Anything I once had with Pamela was obviously gone, and she was well past the boiling point with her perception of me. If she wanted to leave, I had no right to stand in her way.

"Very well," I simply told her. "Go to your room and get all of your belongings. I will call for the helicopter to come and pick you up. If I cannot get you on a flight today, you'll spend the night at the airport hotel in Lima and you'll be off first thing in the morning." Did I just say that? Did I really just agree to let this woman, who I cared about so very much, go home and seemingly exit my life forever?

Pamela sprung out of her chair here within the movie room as if she had been shot from a cannon. "Good. Looks like I got some packing to do, then." She turned and literally hopped and skipped her way to the exit of the theater.

"I will also see to it that you get your money."

She stopped, then turned and looked back at me. "Money? What money are you talking about?"

"You were guaranteed $100,000 for coming to the island and spending six weeks of your life here," I reminded her. "And there was supposed to be one of the girls who got $500,000. Even though you are leaving early, I will still pay you the full amount. I think you deserve it, Pamela."

She shook her head. "I don't want your money."

"What?" I narrowed my gaze at her. "Why?"

"I don't want your money!" she exclaimed. "You think paying me off is gonna put an ease to all the pain and suffering I have been through since you shacked up with Kristanna, and all but forgot about me?"

"I ... I'm not trying to PAY you off," I countered. "It is your money, Pamela. You are entitled to it. You earned it."

"I don't want your money!" she insisted. "You can take the $100,000 and shove it clear up your ass!"

"Pamela..."

"Not only do I NOT want your money, but I do not want your pity, either! You can build that private school you spoke of in my hometown, Jeremy. Go ahead and build it if you want. Spend millions of dollars on it. But I won't be teaching at it. I want there to be nothing in my life from this point forward that reminds me of YOU or this FUCKING ISLAND! I want to erase these four weeks from my memory completely!"

Now, I was visibly upset. "What are you going to do? You going back to the strip club?"

She nodded her head and shot me quite the evil, sadistic eye. "At least at the strip club, I know where I stand."

Stunned and speechless, I just stood there.

"I'm going home!" Pamela burst out into song, turning and prancing about as she exited the movie room. "I'm going home! I'm getting out of this Hell-hole and I'm going home! No more lying men! No more back-stabbing skanks with fake accents! I'm packing up my things and I am going home!"

--

It did not take long for the island to be buzzing with the news that Pamela wanted out. I tried to think of a plan where I could get Pamela to change her mind and ultimately stay, but I knew in reality that there was nothing that could possibly be done. This whole thing with her was a lost cause, unfortunately. We were so incredibly past the point of no return that Pamela going home early was the only option that really made any logical sense. It was sad, but true.

She was obviously miserable here, and there was no way to fix that. Kristanna and I had offered Pamela a place in our lives, but she was so focused and intent on the idea of a one-on-one relationship with me that it was the only scenario she would truly accept. Unfortunately for Pamela, that was not going to happen. I was not leaving Kristanna for her.

I was in love with Pamela and cared for her with all of my heart, but those emotions simply did not even begin to compare with how strongly I felt about Kristanna. It was that simple. I knew that Pamela was in a horrible state right now, but there really was nothing I could do to help. I was not going to jeopardize what I had with Kristanna - as well as Devon - in order to make things right with Pamela.

I simply wished that Pamela was more open and receptive to the idea of a group relationship. Was she really going to be happier returning to the strip club in Maryland? How could that be better than surrounding herself with three people who would love and care for her, and see to her every whim? Would dancing and degrading herself in front of total strangers for really be better than what was offered here?

Alas, I suppose the question was meaningless. Pamela wanted to go home. I had no choice but to grant her request. I was not going to force her to stay here against her will.

I called Kevin, my friend who owned the helicopter, and told him that I would be requiring his services again. Kevin agreed to be here in two hours. He would fly Pamela to the mainland, then make certain that she found her way to the airport hotel in Lima. She would stay the night, then be on the 6:45am flight to Miami in the morning. A connector flight to Baltimore would be awaiting her there.

"Hi Jeremy."

Seated at one of the computers in the study room as I finalized Pamela's travel package via the Internet, that voice made me look up toward its source. Oh great, I said inwardly. Of all people on the island, this was the one that I cared to see the least right now. She did not like me, and it had gotten to the point where I did not like her. I was too upset and frazzled to really deal with her now.

"Hello Camille."

"I want to go home, too."

I looked at her. "Huh?"

"You volunteered to give Pamela her money and let her go home," Camille said. "It's not fair you do that, you know, and expect the rest of us to stay here the full six weeks. I want to go home too, and I want you to pay me my money."

"Why do you want to go home, too?"

"Does it matter?" she retorted. "I already know you won't give me the $500,000 prize. That's easy, because I know it's going to one of your little squeeze toys - Lindsay or Amy." My eyes narrowed at that comment as she pressed on, "You can give me $100,000, and I be happy with it."

Camille motioned toward the computer. "Come on, Jeremy. Be fair. You offered to do it for Pamela. Don't play favorites, though I know you love doing it. Get on there and get me a plane ticket to San Diego or Los Angeles. I can have all of my stuff packed within an hour. You can even put me on the same helicopter with Pamela."

"Fine," I told her, angry. I did not want to deal with this now. I did not want to deal with any of it. Nor did I honestly care if Camille wanted to go back to San Diego. "I'll have $100,000 wired to your bank account by the end of the day. But may I ask why you want to leave?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure? Do you REALLY want to know?"

"Yes..."

Camille shrugged her shoulders and answered, "Because you are a filthy, rotten, disgusting, chauvinistic pig of a man."

My eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. "Excuse me?"

"You lead Pamela on, and break her heart. You play favorites. Amy will suck your cock and let you tie her up, so you take her to Lima for a full day of shopping and sight-seeing while the rest of us are left behind here twiddling our thumbs. Lindsay will play dress up for you and act all coy and innocent, and interested in you, but all she really wants is the $500,000. Do I have to suck your cock for you to notice me, and do something nice for me too?"

Camille nodded her head. "I want nothing to do with you, Jeremy. I'm not going to stoop to the level of Lindsay or Amy to win favors from you. Pamela went to that level too, but look where it got her. I don't want to be a part of your perverted, little sex fantasy on this island any more."

Camille flashed me a bright, dazzling smile and mused, "I hope that when you die, you burn and rot in Hell for the rest of eternity." She turned and pointed toward the exit way of the study room. "I'm going to pack my things now. Get me my airline ticket and the money you owe me. After that, you can go and fuck yourself for all I care."

Once Camille left, I must have stood there, frozen, for a good 15 or 20 seconds. Things were boiling up inside of me - and fast. Then all of a sudden, I snapped. I grabbed a hold of the computer monitor and with a strong heave, I tossed it against the far wall in a fit of absolute rage. Not only did it damage the wall, but the monitor was shattered and broken, and electrical sparks were shooting out of it.

I needed to get out of here.

--

It was not all that often when I skipped dinner, but with the utter catastrophe which took place earlier, I was in no mood to eat. In fact, I felt downright suicidal. Pamela wanting out was bad enough, but the words that Camille said to me afterward were absolutely crushing. Never before in my life had someone been so vile and hateful toward me.

Instead of being in the dining room with the others at our customary dinner time of 7:00pm, I found myself all alone in the quaint, three-bedroom guest cottage which was totally separate from the mansion. Feeling worthless and defeated, I had been lounging on a leather floor comforter for the better part of the past four hours. This was my new refuge. Here, I figured, no one could hurt me.

Despite my rage earlier, when I destroyed the computer monitor, I was able to put a travel itinerary together for Camille so I could get her out of my life for good. Trish volunteered to drive Pamela and Camille to the heli-pad in the Jeep, and I allowed her to do just that. Yes, Pamela and Camille were no longer on the island. They were most likely relaxing in a Lima hotel room at this very moment, each awaiting separate flights back to the United States.

Just like that - POOF - Pamela was gone and out of my life seemingly forever. She no longer wanted to be here, and it was not my place - or my right - to force her to stay. I did not want anyone to be here if they were not happy.

I tried my best since day one to be a courteous and gracious host for all of the ladies. Camille and I got off on the wrong foot somehow - why, I do not know - and we had never recovered from it. She and I had never really sat down and had a good, long discussion. I was interested in her as a person, and wanted to know more, but I always got the sense that the feeling was not mutual.

It was common knowledge that Camille hated all men. She probably condemned me from the start simply because of my gender. But I had tried to be nice to her. I gave up a few days ago, though, when it was apparent that I was getting nowhere with the continued effort. But at least I tried. It was okay, really. It got to the point where I disliked her, too. I did not care for her one bit.

Camille wanted me to burn and rot in Hell for the rest of eternity? Wow. I was incapable of saying such a thing to even my most hated adversary. Not only did Camille say that to me, though, but she did it with a smile on her face. It made her happy to vocally wish such a horrible demise on me. Keep in mind that this was merely seconds after I agreed to let her go home and give her the full $100,000 payment. How could she have said something so despicable to me?

Most troubling of all, however, was that Pamela was apparently going right back to her job as an exotic dancer at the strip club in Maryland. What hurt me most was not what Camille had said, or that Pamela was leaving, but it was the fact that she was returning to her old job. Out of all possible conclusions, that was what I wanted least. Pamela would never climb out of that so-called abyss now.

Not only did Pamela refuse her $100,000 pay-out, but she was not going to accept my offer of becoming a schoolteacher at a private institute that I was willing to finance and have built in her hometown. Pamela had always wanted to be a teacher and was close to getting a degree, but was fearful that her years as a stripper would preclude her from getting the job and career that she ultimately wanted. That would not be an issue at the private school I was going to have built, though. I would be the boss, per se, and my plan was for Pamela to have a safe and secure teaching job there.

But now? Pamela was so angry and disgusted with me - and perhaps more specifically the way things transpired on the island - that she would not even accept my assistance as it pertained to her future and career. Pamela rather go back to the strip club - a place which she hated, mind you - than allow me to help her achieve her career goal.

Indeed, it had been a horrible day. I felt miserable. I simply wanted to curl up into a ball and die.

Resting upon the large floor comforter, I became alert and sat up when I heard the front door open behind me. No one was supposed to know that I was hiding in the guest cottage. I had even deactivated the surveillance system so Kristanna and Devon could not find my whereabouts with the voyeur room. I just wanted to be left alone. But somehow, Trish had come upon me and found my so-called refuge. The 30-year-old from Toronto stepped inside, and moved toward me.

"Hey," she simply greeted, waving her left hand.

I looked at her, but did not offer a response. Trish took the initiative by sitting down beside me on the floor and then gently patting my knee. "You okay, Jeremy?"

"What do you think?" I asked, my voice hollow.

Trish frowned momentarily, but then titled her head and offered me a curious, thoughtful look. "I remember not too long ago, Lindsay dumped me. She just flat-out dumped me. I was in the recreation room and when Lindsay left after telling me the bad news, I was all upset, all crying." Trish hesitated, then smiled faintly. "I also remember you showing up, Jeremy - seemingly out of nowhere - and doing your best to cheer me up and be a good friend when I needed it most. It worked. You did a great job that day."

Trish then grasped my left hand with her right and squeezed firmly. "Now it is my chance to return the favor, and cheer you up. Do you know, Jeremy, that Kristanna is worried sick about you? She has no idea where you are. Have you been here hiding away all day?"

"Yeah."

"Sometimes it's good to hide from others when you're upset," Trish nodded. "Other times, it's not. Kristanna is really worried about you, Jeremy. I mean, REALLY worried. You should try and find her as soon as possible."

"She'll find me soon enough," was my listless response. "Or I will find her."

"I heard about some of the nasty stuff that Camille said to you," Trish pouted. "Want to talk about it?"

"What do you think of me as a person?" was my question for Trish. I do not know where it came from, or why I had asked it. Perhaps I just needed some positive reinforcement?