CAMILLE NEXT DOOR

CHAPTER THREE: THE ART OF SHADOWBOXING

The year had been rough for Camille.

She felt like she was done with Marvin for good.

He had too much baggage.

Diamond and her other friends were helping out as much as they could, Diamond even bringing her two year old son to come play and watch TV with her.

Everything just felt like it was spinning for a while and she wanted it to stop. She ordered takeout a lot more, her friends noticing the pizza boxes and Chinese food cartons laying in places she had been sitting at. They started to cook for her because they knew how close she was to an unhealthy spiral that even Jenny Craig wouldn't be able to cure.

One day, she decided that she was going to do something for herself after not having the energy for months.

She threw on some pants, a corset, and a leather trench coat. Blacked out glasses were all she chose to wear these days, not wanting to look approachable. Wanting some pizza, she walked out of her building and to the nearest pie shop. She felt like shit but apparently the niggas couldn't tell, taking dangerous double takes as they crossed the street.

Camille didn't even really have on makeup, one of her favorite things to wear. Brick red lipstick was across her lips. Her hair was slicked into a bun and she had gold hoops in. She stepped into the restaurant and immediately took in the smells of garlic and roasted tomatoes, all classic aromatics to a fellow New Yorker. The cashier was at the front, waiting patiently for her to order.

"Let me get two $1 slices with a large Sprite."

He gave her a cup and let her use the soda fountain, the two slices on the plate hot and huge. She shook some pepper and Parmesan on the pizza and sat down to begin eating.

The doorbell sounded off all high pitched as soon as a new customer came in. The customer had on this big coat, with patchwork in brown and black. He had a low top fade with a part on the side and a gold earring in his ear as he moved through, stately and like a king. Camille knew for sure he was a big timer, definitely in the drug game. He looked at her directly and winked before stepping up to the counter.

"Let me get four of them beef sausage and pepper slices, man."

His accent was heavy New Yorker. He kept looking at her, watching how she ate her pizza all dainty. Of course, she folded it before she took a bite but the way she did it looked cute to him.

"How you get that pizza slice bent up like that with them nails, girl? You did that shit quick."

She looked off, staring at the restaurant's wall of fame.

"Practice."

He wiped his thumb with his nose and smiled.

"Practice? Oh, like Jackie Chan in Drunken Master or some shit."

Camille sipped at her Sprite.

"Something like that."

He came to her table to sit with her.

"Why you so closed off, ma? A nigga just trying to talk to you."

Little did he know, she had had enough of niggas trying to talk to her to last her a lifetime. It seemed crazy to jump back into that world so quickly. The last time she played around with someone like that, her face almost got sliced.

"I'm just not into the whole dating thing right now."

He looked at her intensely then, trying to figure out what had happened. It scared Camille because it seemed like he already knew her story without having to ask.