CAMILLE NEXT DOOR

CHAPTER 7: LYTE AS A ROCK

Camille had been dancing since she was four years old. Juilliard was a big dream of hers, but after a while it became a distant memory.

Hearing Meech say that she should take it up again lit an old fire ablaze within her.

                                     VIDEO GIRL TRYOUTS - MUST BE 18+

There was a paper going around the block on telephone polls and the front doors of businesses. It had a blacked out silhouette of a girl with stars surrounding her and details listing where the audition would be.

Camille came to the studio in her workout clothes with no makeup on.

"Who does she think she is?"

Girls within the line outside mean mugged her as she walked to the back, popping their gum obnoxiously. They all had to wait their turn to dance, and it wasn't like she was trying to cut ahead.

"Don't worry about them. Fame makes people greedy for a shot."

That voice came from a petite looking girl, her hair in a cropped bowl cut with heavy gold hoops. She had a chain around her neck and a Lycra fit on, the black-white design going down vertically.

"Oh, I wasn't. They look too silly to argue with anyway."

The girl laughed, taking a sip of her water before looking across the street.

"Definitely. My name's Dijah."

Music was booming from the building inside like an exclusive club, the sound of conversation meshing seamlessly with the rhythm.

"I'm Camille."

The line was moving up and she wished that she had gotten herself a bottle of Sobé or water, her throat feeling extremely dry from the realization that she was performing for people. This was her way of finally doing something for herself instead of a monotonous 9-5, where she had nothing to gain but a weekly check.

"What's your style of dance? I do ballet and jazz."

Dijah's bracelets jangled together loudly as she began to stretch, lifting up her left leg easily to bring it to her shoulder blade. That was a little intimidating for Camille to watch, especially because it reminded her of her lack of training. She didn't do any warm ups before coming here, hoping to rely on her intuition to help her move to the music.

"Hip hop."

The line moved up further and Camille's breath caught a little. All the calm she had when she first got there had left, anxiety taking its place. Dijah saw her body tense up, immediately coming to her aid.

"Hey, relax. You'll do fine."

It was nice that this new stranger wanted to console her, but Camille didn't need comforting. She was simply not used to being in this kind of environment where she had to prove herself. Niggas knew she was the shit. Bitches hated her off principle, so everybody knew what she was bringing to the table.

"I'm good. I think it's your turn now."

Dijah flew through the entrance, waving at her and telling her good luck. The bodyguard closed the door back, focusing his attention on Camille.

"How you doing?"

He wasn't this polite with the other girls, the smile on his face big and goofy. That black shirt he had on was too tight for his body, and all the flexing he was doing with his muscles were rough enough to nearly rip the fabric.

"I'm fine."

Camille paid him no mind, standing with her hands clasped. The only thing she could focus on was her steps and how good they would go with the music. She started to do what Dijah did, stretching and bending forwards to work on her flexibility. That little leg thing was a no go, her body screaming for help once she tried it.