knew.”
“It’s a small world.”
“So, what’s up?” Alexis asked. “How’s your dad?”
“He’s fine.”
“Your brother?”
“He’s fine, too,” Camille guessed.
Then she took a deep breath, her pulse racing. “Okay. Brace yourself. I was thinking—”
“Wait a second,” Alexis interrupted. “Ooh, that’s Kyra on the other line. Lord, I wonder if lightning is about to strike. Hold on just—”
“No, Alexis let me explain—”
“Just let me tell her that I’ll call her back.”
Alexis forced Camille to hold, and the longer Alexis stayed on the other line, the more anxious Camille became. This new, improved Kyra was also quick on the draw.
Finally, Alexis returned. “So, you want to get Sweet Treats back together?”
Darn that Kyra. “Yes.”
“No can do, my sister.”
“Come on, Alexis. Don’t let Kyra make this decision for you. Give me one good reason why you can’t do this with me.”
Alexis replied, “I can give you three. First of all, I’m a teacher. I work at least sixty hours a week as it stands.”
“If we get back with the right producers, you won’t have to teach anymore,” Camille countered. “Plus, I know teachers don’t make any money. You’re probably just as broke as me, and I don’t even have a college degree.”
“I don’t know about the money part, but you’re missing my point. I love teaching, and I’m dedicated to my students. I don’t want to change my career, thank you very much.”
“Must be nice to actually like what you do,” Camille pouted. “But, hey, I know you’ve got the summers off, Alexis.”
“Summers off? Please. School gets out the first week of June, I have staff development for, like, three weeks, and then we’re back in mid-August. I’m lucky to have July off, which is not nearly enough time to pull a band together and pop up in the studio. Do you know how much we’d have to practice to pull this together? I’m nowhere near you and Tonya.”
Camille interjected, “Ever heard of Southwest Airlines?”
“And the last thing is, my parents aren’t in the best of health. I can’t go anywhere until they get stable or whatever . . . well, you know,” her voice tapered.
“I’m sorry, Alexis. I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have bothered your parents for your number if I’d known.”
“It’s okay. They can talk. They’re just getting older. We have to watch Daddy’s diabetes,” she explained. “My mom used to keep an eye on him, but now she’s got her own blood-pressure issues, too. I swear, their bathroom is a pharmacy.”
Camille empathized all too well with Alexis’s concerns. “I hope you’re able to help them get things under control.”
Alexis sighed. “Girl, me and God and maybe a personal plea from Barack Obama, ’cause that’s what it’s going to take to get them to listen. They are so hardheaded sometimes. They question everything the doctors tell them.”
Camille remembered how many promises Priscilla had to make before Alexis’s parents agreed to let their only daughter tour all over the world. The Nevilses were old-school parents who’d been pleasantly surprised with a bouncing baby girl in their late thirties. Even though Alexis had been, legally speaking, old enough to make the decision about touring with Sweet Treats, she wouldn’t step on the bus without her parents’ blessing.
Alexis’s life, good and bad, clearly wasn’t conducive to singing again.
And then there were two. “Do you think Tonya would consider reuniting with me?”
“I’m gonna say, um, H-E double hockey sticks no.”
Camille laughed. “Why don’t you go ahead and say the word?”
“You know I don’t cuss. Never did.”
“Anyway. Is Tonya still mad about Darrion?”
“Girl, naw,” Alexis squawked. “She knows he was just a dog sniffing out the first one he could find to give it up.”
That would be me. “Alrighty, then. So why do you think she won’t do it?”
“’Cause she’s already got a good thing going with Liza Sticcoli.”
Camille pointed out, “Can’t be that good. I listen to music all the time and I’ve never heard of any Liza other than Liza Minnelli.”
“Liza Sticcoli is a Christian artist,” Alexis stated.
“Oh.” The realization hit Camille and she mused, “Christian?”
“Yep.”
No recourse for that one. “Well, if she’s only singing Christian backup, I’m sure she could use more money.”
“Probably so. But trust me on this one, Camille, she’s not going to sing with you. You burned a lot of bridges when you left the group, you know?”
“Fine. I’ll just have to do it solo,” Camille snapped.
“I’m not trying to be funny, but you should have marketed yourself as a solo artist in the first place,” Alexis concurred. “That’s what you really wanted to be anyway. And, for what it’s worth, I think you could have been good.”
“Thanks, Alexis. Hey”—Camille fumbled for the words—“do you think, maybe, we could keep in touch? I know this will sound crazy, but I don’t really socialize with too many females, you know? Too many divas.”
Alexis laughed. “You know you’re the queen diva, right?”
Camille had to agree. “I’m just sayin’, it’s nice to talk to someone who’s not into the jealousy thing.”
“I don’t think I follow you. I mean, what are they jealous of?”
Camille huffed. “Don’t you watch those real housewives shows?”
“Nuh-uh. I mean, every once in a while I might see an episode, but I have better things to do with my time than sit up and watch grown women argue,” Alexis said. “Work, Momma, and Daddy keep me all tied up. But I’ve got your number now and you’ve got mine. No excuses.”
“While you’re recording information, write down today’s date. It’s my birthday,” Camille sassed.
“Aaah! That’s right! March twentieth!” Alexis added a quick rendition of the happy birthday song.
Camille listened in wonder of Alexis’s low melody. Simply beautiful. What a shame they couldn’t blend vocals again.
“Thanks, girl. I haven’t had anyone sing that song to me in a while.”
“Well, text me your address so I can send you a present.”
“Awww, you don’t have to do that,” Camille purred.
“I know, but I’m thinking if you haven’t had a birthday song in a while, you sure haven’t received a gift in a while, either.”
She didn’t know the half of it. After her mother’s death, Camille’s family seemed to have disintegrated. Jerdine Robertson had been the Robertsons’ glue. Without her, no one knew how to hold the family together. So when Camille hit it big with all that fame and money, things naturally got worse. Money only magnifies relationship problems.
“I gotta go, Camille. Text me your address. And call me when you get the package.”
Strike