Thou shalt not steal (unless thou art really, really hungry)

I don't know if I was afraid when Cam looked at me in the club and I realized that I couldn't dodge him the way I could everyone else.  I think I was, but only in the way that I was always afraid.

I guess I was more curious than anything else.

It's hard to be afraid of Cam.

"That was you, right?" he asked, as I stood there not knowing where to go or what to do.  "Doing that to the music?"

I don't know, I said, and he smiled.

"I think it was," he said.  "I think it was great."

I didn't mean to.

"But that's what's so great about it," he said.  "It's just the music sounding better because we get to hear how it sounds to someone who thinks it's fantastic."  He nodded toward the band.  "Those guys ought to hire you."

I sat down because I was feeling shaky.  I don't think they need the help.

"I hope they don't," he said.  "They're really good.  But there's so much competition out there.  I've seen a lot of terrific bands go nowhere because they couldn't stick it out.  It's so hard to keep going when you don't know if it's going to get you anywhere."

Are you a musician?

He smiled and started telling me about his job at the radio station where he goes to school. He does play music -- he knows how to, anyway, piano and guitar -- but that's not where his passion lies. He wants to work in the music industry.  Helping, not playing.

Cam learned about music before he realized that he didn't want to play professionally, but it's good because after he finishes with school, he can teach if he has to. And he just likes knowing what goes into making music.

He told me all this without asking me anything.

He was watching me as he talked.  Someone came a bit too close and I kind of ducked out of sight.  I can't disappear like Lacy can, but if I try hard, I can make people just notice something else.  Look somewhere else.  Not be the thing they want to see.

I was able to get into the clubs by making whoever took the money see what he wanted to see: that I was paying what it cost to get in.

I was able to get a little money for food by making them see that I paid too much and needed change.

It was stealing. I know that.  I know it was wrong.  If it had been somebody's own money, I never would have done it.

I know it's just as wrong to steal from a place as from a person, but it doesn't feel as wrong.  Three or five or ten dollars to a person, just one person, is a lot.  To a business, it's nothing.

And I was hungry.

And if I asked -- for help, for money -- they might have asked me questions I couldn't answer.  Like why I needed money so badly.  Where I lived.  Why my parents weren't taking care of me.

I don't want to write about this any more.