Page 22 of Just Like Summer

“Those two got a history of beef and I-”

“You’re going to order or move aside. There’s a line,” Kamilla stated, not interested in anything he had to say further.

Hype swayed his head, leaned back, and tapped Chuckee with the back of his hand and nodded toward a nearby bench.

“Ah man, C4 got you shook like that over that bitch?” Chuckee voiced loud enough for Kamilla to hear. “I say we snatch that bitch and show that nigga he ain’t shit.”

As Hype moved further away, Kamilla caught the tailend of the exchange. “Yeah and be on the long list of bodies that nigga has. I’m not fuckin’ with that nigga like that. Tez ain’t shit compared to the bullshit C4 will be on if we violate.”

“Man, fuck that,” Chuckee grumbled, looking over his shoulder at Kamilla who’d now moved on to the next customer in line. “I’m not going out like a pussy over that Azul Heart nigga.”

Back to the grind of handling business while her manager gave out tainted box and free food, Kamilla looked at the clock and groaned. “Five hours no break. This is stupid.”

“What’d you say?” QaMeesha snapped as she handed Martez, Hype, and Chuckee a bag of free food.

“Can I take my break now?” she huffed. “I’ve been here since eleven. It’s almost four.”

“Go clean the outside bathroom or something, Kamry,” QaMeesha snapped, waving her off. “The night cashier called out, you’re working a double.”

“Without a break? Are you out of your mind?”

“How about I fire your little mouthy ass? You think ‘cuz you got some attention you can talk to me any kind of way? Girl, I’ll break you.”

Kamilla shook her head and walked away. Going back and forth with her was useless. Jealousy had always been a thing amongst her peers. No one ever tried to get to know her; only judged her off of the quietness they assumed to be arrogance. Kamilla inherited Kamaal Palmer’s long, thick hair, lashes, full eyes and lips. She held her mother’s quietness and build. But the loneliness was her own. Never fitting in anywhere but at her mother’s side. The hate from QaMeesha and the absence of love from her aunt wasn’t new. It was just becoming old.

She cleaned the nasty outside bathrooms, cleared tables, took out the trash and whatever she needed to do to work through her final hour. Hot, frustrated, and out of a change of clothes, Kamilla took it upon herself to find her way home and wash the day off. Thankfully for her and her patience, Martez had loudly announced his next move – a pick-up game at Crimson Heights Park. As long as he could hustle the talent on their side of the hood and show off, him and his gaggle of idiots wouldn’t be at the house.

Kamilla took a long hot shower before gathering her clothes in a duffle bag and starting to the door. Cairo standing in the small living room wasn’t on her bingo card.

“We had an agreement,” he spoke, looking at a family photo of Kamilla, her mother, and aunt. That was the last time the three of them were together and happy.

“You just break and enter?” she asked, a slight frown over her face.

Kamilla observed the frigidness of his frame. It was evident that his day hadn’t been the best either. Cairo offered her a slight glance.

“What’s in the bag? You running away?” he questioned.

“The thought has crossed my mind. But unfortunately for me, I have nowhere to go,” Kamilla muttered. “It’s clothes. I was going to find a laundromat.”

“There’s plenty over here, but the CK’s are pimping and dealing out of them. You’re not going nowhere over here,” Cairo announced, putting the photo back in its spot and taking the bag from her.

Kamilla huffed. “I’m kind of over people telling me what to do for the day.”

“Got to be talkin’ about ‘bout QaMeesha,” he said with an arrogant scoff.

“Could be you too,” she shot back.

Cairo offered her a lopsided smile. “Nah, never that. You must be sleepy?”

“Hungry and exhausted and I’m sure I’m not getting sleep tonight either,” she grumbled, following him toward the door.

Cairo didn’t say anything. He only took note. He would happily get rid of anything that vexed her. Dropping her duffle bag in the trunk, he proceeded to the passenger side door and waited for her to finish locking up.

“How long you say your aunt was gone?”

“I didn’t,” Kamilla replied, sliding in. She looked up at him and frowned. “Why?”

“‘Cause she’s probably on a few flights and that mark ass nigga got access to where you lay your head and he’s fuckin’ with your peace. I’m not with it.”