Read Falling Into Grace Online
Authors: Michelle Stimpson
Falling Into Grace (3 page)
She threw the phone back into her purse and put her headset back in place for the last fifty calls of the day. Glad for the sales script, Camille plodded through the afternoon with her mind only half engaged in work. The other half was in LA. London. On stage with a microphone taped to her body. Four women standing six feet behind her.
Or should she go solo? That way she wouldn't have to split the money. If the group's second manager, Aaron, hadn't convinced the record label to keep Kyra in the group despite her blatant drug problems, Camille might still have some funds left in the bank. Dividing by three instead of four makes a huge difference when millions of dollars are on the line.
When Camille really thought about it, she could almost strangle Aaron now for saving Kyra's butt. All Kyra ever did was moan on most of the songs anyway. Granted, it was a sexy moanâone that she'd probably practiced many a night in Aaron's hotel room. Yeah, there was a reason he wanted to keep that butt around.
And Kyra was ... slow. Not slow like she was born with a medical problem. Slow like she'd been smoking weed since the seventh grade. She just could not process information well, let alone read people.
Camille paused the dialer and maximized the Facebook window on her screen. She searched for Kyra Copeland and scrolled down until she found the familiar face. Jealousy pinged through Camille's chest as she explored Kyra's open photo albums. She was obviously married, living in Phoenix with three boys in a two-story brick home with a pool.
A pool!
Dozens of mobile-uploaded pictures documented family gatherings and vacations. But that pool took the cake.
A pool!
Dozens of mobile-uploaded pictures documented family gatherings and vacations. But that pool took the cake.
Not to mention the fact that Kyra looked like she hadn't gained an ounce. In fact, she looked better than back in the day. Kyra always had that handsome beauty. She was probably one of those girls who was the spitting image of her father, which, at a young age, was a huge problem, but as she grew older and filled out (and shaved the moustache), her features actually came together well. Yep, that was Kyra.
She seemed happy. But who can really tell by Facebook? Camille checked Kyra's info page and nearly busted out laughing. Kyra was a photographer? Seriously! Who would entrust Miss Moan-a-thon to capture precious memories on film? Camille copied and pasted Kyra's alleged Web site address into the browser. A barrage of bridal photos and graduation shots paraded across the page. And they looked like someone who might know what they were doing staged and edited the shots.
How could this be?
Kyra Copeland is better off than me?
“I don't think so,” Camille whispered to herself as she closed the extra window on her screen. No way was she going to let Kyra, of all people, have the upper hand. Tonya, Camille could understand. Her parents had money. Even Alexis might be understandable because she went back to college and finished her degree. But not Kyra. If that man-looking Kyra was making it in this world, living in a nice house, going on cruises, Camille didn't have an excuse.
Kyra Copeland is better off than me?
“I don't think so,” Camille whispered to herself as she closed the extra window on her screen. No way was she going to let Kyra, of all people, have the upper hand. Tonya, Camille could understand. Her parents had money. Even Alexis might be understandable because she went back to college and finished her degree. But not Kyra. If that man-looking Kyra was making it in this world, living in a nice house, going on cruises, Camille didn't have an excuse.
She slammed her headset on the desk. Took a look around her stupid, gray cubicle.
Useless waste of the earth's resources.
She could still hear coworkers talking, still see through the cracks and smell when someone burned popcorn in the microwave. The only thing those partitions actually did for her was cover up tardiness.
Useless waste of the earth's resources.
She could still hear coworkers talking, still see through the cracks and smell when someone burned popcorn in the microwave. The only thing those partitions actually did for her was cover up tardiness.
But what did it matter if she was late? Who cares? As long as she came in and made her ten leads for the day to keep the manager away, what time she got there should be irrelevant. This whole job was stupid anyway.
Worse than this depressing train of thought was the fact that she actually
needed
this job to pay rent in an apartment she was too ashamed to have anyone visit. Maybe she shouldn't have been ashamed of her place. I mean, at least she did have a roof over her head. Running water. Air-conditioning.
needed
this job to pay rent in an apartment she was too ashamed to have anyone visit. Maybe she shouldn't have been ashamed of her place. I mean, at least she did have a roof over her head. Running water. Air-conditioning.
Her mother taught her to be grateful. Yet, Camille always figured the “grateful” thing was something you did on the way
up
. Like, if you had nothing and then, all of a sudden, you got rich, you were supposed to thank God for taking you from bad to good. She had a hard time showing gratitude after being robbed of the queen-of-pop-sopranos crown. Well, maybe that was taking it a little too farâlike the time Whitney Houston said Bobby Brown was the king of R&B when, really, he wasn't even on the radar.
up
. Like, if you had nothing and then, all of a sudden, you got rich, you were supposed to thank God for taking you from bad to good. She had a hard time showing gratitude after being robbed of the queen-of-pop-sopranos crown. Well, maybe that was taking it a little too farâlike the time Whitney Houston said Bobby Brown was the king of R&B when, really, he wasn't even on the radar.
Camille still remembered the day Sweet Treats's last manager, Priscilla Longoria, called and gave her the news that Sweet Treats's song had beat out Kelly Price, Dru Hill, and Toni Braxton for the number-one slot on the R&B charts. It was, to date, the best day of Camille's life.
If she didn't get something going, the best part of her life would always be in the past. What better day to start than her thirtieth birthday?
CHAPTER 3
T
his was probably a bad idea. Her hands shook as she waited for Kyra to answer the phone,
if
this was the real Kyra Copeland. Six degrees of separation had been reduced to three, thanks to a mutual Facebook friend. The whole thing was one big quirky coincidence. A coincidence that might change her life forever.
his was probably a bad idea. Her hands shook as she waited for Kyra to answer the phone,
if
this was the real Kyra Copeland. Six degrees of separation had been reduced to three, thanks to a mutual Facebook friend. The whole thing was one big quirky coincidence. A coincidence that might change her life forever.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Kyra. It's Camille.”
“Camille? How do we know each other?”
“Camille
Robertson
?”
Robertson
?”
“From Sweet Treats?”
Camille tried the we-go-way-back approach. “Yeah, girl, it's me. How you been?”
“Fine. How'd you get my number?” Kyra's cautionary pitch caught Camille by surprise.
“We have a mutual friend named ...” Camille reviewed the screen. She didn't realize she would have to reveal her source so soon. “Yolanda Wesley.”
“Oh.” Kyra's voice fell. “She's one of my husband's cousins. She's an author, always trying to build her fan base.”
“I ain't mad at her,” Camille drawled.
“Well,
I
certainly am. What do you need or want or whatever?” she gushed with a sigh.
I
certainly am. What do you need or want or whatever?” she gushed with a sigh.
Apparently, Kyra had gained a few points in the thinking category. Camille couldn't remember ever hearing Kyra string that many words together so fast without at least three takes in the studio. Camille would have to up her game.
“I was just sitting here reminiscing. Thinking about what a good thing we had going in the nineties. And yesterday, I was reading something in a magazine about Xscape, and you know we were
way
better than them. Soâ”
way
better than them. Soâ”
“Are you trying to put Sweet Treats back together again?”
Might as well cut to the chase. “Yes. That's exactly what I'm trying to do.”
“Count me out.”
Camille gasped. “Why? Kyra, you were like ... the voice of... sexiness in our group.”
“Please. You sang so loud and took over every song in concert. The audiences thought me and Tonya and Alexis were backup when we performed.”
“It's not my fault that Priscilla put me front and center.”
“No, but it is your fault we broke up.”
Camille challenged, “How can you say that?”
“Because you made the decision to betray your brother and Tonya.”
“Betray is a very strong word, Kyra. Besides, Darrion was a free agent.”
“Oh my God, you're still in denial,” Kyra accused. “Everybody knew Tonya had a thing for Darrion. He was pretty much her man.”
Hearing Kyra voice Darrion's name suddenly jogged Camille's memory. She'd almost forgotten about all those piddly details. Or maybe she'd blocked them out. Kyra hadn't purged her files.
“That was a long time ago, Kyra. We've all grown and matured. I was hoping we could get past our differences and make a run for it again,” Camille said calmly, deeply, the way she imagined Maya Angelou spoke. Who could deny a seasoned black woman's wisdom?
“You're right,” Kyra agreed. “We should all be more mature now than we were then. Let the past stay there. Move on with your life, Camille. Sweet Treats is over.”
I'm losing her!
“It doesn't have to be, Kyra. We can do it again. Look at Tony! Toni! Toné! They're still together. I just saw them on BET the other night.”
“It doesn't have to be, Kyra. We can do it again. Look at Tony! Toni! Toné! They're still together. I just saw them on BET the other night.”
“I'm sure they still actually like each other because they've never messed one another over,” Kyra summed. “Let Sweet Treats go, Camille; the rest of us have.”
Camille sucked in her breath. “You all keep in touch?”
“Yes. Alexis and Tonya are still close. I talk to them from time to time. Alexis is teaching in St. Louis. Tonya's back home in Houston, but she travels all over the country singing backup for Liza Sticcoli. We're all happy, busy doing things we enjoy.”
Resentment flattened the smile Camille had been holding in place to enhance her pitch. So much for closing this deal. “Okay. Don't say I didn't ask you, Kyra.”
“No sleep lost here. More power to you, but don't call me anymore.”
Camille held on to the phone for a second, hoping Kyra would say, “Psyche!” She used to pull that lame attempt at sarcasm so often, Camille had a pink and black T-shirt made for Kyra with the word applied across the chest.
No joke this time, though. T-Mobile brought the conversation to an official end with a soft beep in Camille's ear. She couldn't allow herself to process Kyra's less than desirable response. The rejection rolled off Camille's back like water on a duck. If there was one good thing she'd learned as a telemarketer, it was how to get over people's negative reactions.
On to the next one. “Hi, Alexis. It's me. Camille. From Sweet Treats.”
“Hey, Camille,” Alexis nearly sang. “How are you?” Alexis's uniquely raspy speech always sounded like she needed to cough a few times. At their first rehearsal, Camille had been shocked by the strong alto hiding under the wobbly speaking voice.
So far so good. “Great! How are you?”
“I'm fine. So good to hear from you. What have you been up to?”
“Girl, just working, tryin' to make it. You?”
“I'm good. Wow! I haven't heard from you in ages. Wait 'til I tell Tonya I talked to you!”
Camille ventured, “How is Tonya?”
“She's great,” Alexis caroled. “She just bought a house in Cedar Hill out by some kind of lake.”
“Tonya lives near Dallas?”
“Yeah,” Alexis crooned. “I thought you 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 thinkingâ”
“Wait a second,” Alexis interrupted. “Ooh, that's Kyra on the other line. Lord, I wonder if lightning is about to strike. Hold on justâ”
“No, Alexis let me explainâ”
“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.”
“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.”
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.”
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.”
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?”
“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.
Sticcoli
is a Christian artist,” Alexis stated.
“Oh.” The realization hit Camille and she mused,
“Christian?”
“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”âCamille fumbled for the wordsâ“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.
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