Journey to Love (Ongoing)

Something to Believe In

Camille

Camille's creations invariably reflected himself, and the Glam Slam was no exception. From the outside, it projected both mystery and whimsy, as black, rustic brick played backdrop to the neon yellow club sign. On the inside, a bevy of colorful murals, gold mesh fabric, and purple flooring conjured a fever dream. Multiple levels added depth, with the first being open to everyone old enough to enter, and the second reserved for the monied. At all times, the basement was a restricted area, accessible only to Camille and the few he chose to invite.

Under normal circumstances, he would spend the time before rehearsals recording in the basement studio. On this day, however, he had no wish to disappear without warning. Ruthie's presence in town, while unverified by the proof of his five senses, was enough to encourage old ideals and obsessions. The legend of Graffiti Bridge was chief among them.

"I know how it sounds," he told Joshua, Sax, and Vienna once they were all comfortably seated at the bar, "but you have to understand. This bridge and the song that'll make it appear—they're the key to everything: wealth, beauty, power, love. Everyone who's found Graffiti Bridge comes away with their heart's desires. Ruthie and I were looking for it together before she . . . left."

To her credit, Vienna looked enraptured by Camille's explanation, at least until he mentioned Ruthie. The others just looked thoroughly unconvinced.

"You know, man," Joshua said to Sax as though Camille was not still there, "I think the boss is overtired. Maybe he's getting confused."

Sax snapped his fingers. "Nah, I think I got it. There's a bridge on 110th near the deli, right?"

"Yeah, that's it! Camille was looking in the window at one of those big hoagies, and he was so hungry that he thought one grew out of the window and onto the street. Turns out it was just the same old raggedy overpass."

The two horn players reveled in their weak joke without recognizing the anger, and subtle woundedness, that suddenly twisted Camille's features.

He was close to firing them when Vienna reached out to stroke his cheek.

"Camille, darling, if you say that there's a Graffiti Bridge I believe you, and I will help you find it. You don't need anyone else."

Some of the tension left Camille's face, and he lifted one of his own hands to cover Vienna's fingers. Gently, he moved them to his lips and covered them with soft kisses. The corners of his mouth turned upward at the sight of her flushed cheeks.

"Let's warm up together," he suggested after letting go of her hand.

With no hesitation, Vienna followed Camille to the stage and sat beside him at the piano. In perfect harmony, they sang their scales, and he noted her progress on the keys with no little pride. Sax and Joshua joined the two onstage after a while and added noise of their own to the bluesy tune Camille and Vienna were toying with. Their beautiful sounds went uninterrupted for some time until Gruff, Puff, Miko, and Levi strolled in.

The foursome sang loudly and off-key, doing no justice to "She's A Bad Mama Jama," and then broke into superfluous laughter.

"Hey, y'all, check it out," Gruff said, motioning toward the entrance, "Almost got a new walk he wants to show off."

Camille looked along with the others as his keyboardist did a sideways shuffle into the room. He bit his tongue to keep from saying something he'd regret, then studied the other man's appearance. Almost was one of the few members of the band who always embraced his stage persona. Currently, this meant that his face was painted white on one side and black on the other, while his body was clothed in matching two-toned garments.

The always friendly Levi gave Almost a side hug.

Almost clapped Levi on the shoulder in response. "Well, how was it?"

It was obvious that Almost was proud of his special "walk." Camille snickered at Levi's sudden look of discomfort.

"Uh, it wasn't," Levi said, and before Almost could probe further, he gestured to the stage, "let's jump in so we can jam."

Now accompanied by Almost's keyboard, Levi's bass, and Miko's rhythm guitar, Camille had his horn section and Vienna pick up where they left off. Meanwhile, Gruff and Puff danced and did their own rudimentary versions of backing vocals. Camille was not satisfied with the look or sound of the cousins until two more members of his crew arrived, namely Cathy to bring precision and style to Gruff and Puff's act, and Big Sister to lend her powerful vocals and help on the keys. To keep time and get out nascent aggression, Camille handled the drums himself, but he yearned to pick up his guitar as soon as possible.

The jam session ended around one, as Camille was called away to meetings about nonmusical matters for the club. As usual, the talks revolved around money, or the lack thereof, to keep the place going and everyone paid. His mood plummeted accordingly.

Drained and irritable that it still wasn't early enough for Angel's arrival, he emerged from his office at two fifteen. Big Sister was waiting for him when he opened the door.

"I invited Ruthie to the rehearsal," she said without preamble.

Camille's eyes narrowed. "Angel told me what you said, but I've had some time to think, and I don't believe you've seen Ruthie at all. You sure you didn't just say that because you're hungry and thought I'd reward you?"

Big Sister's fists clenched. "Excuse me? I try to help you out and you take a cheap shot at my weight? Let me tell you something, mister. It might not be for you, but I get no complaints from my man, and let the record show that—unlike some people—I have a healthy relationship. Now what you got to say about that?"

Camille's jaw clenched, and he pitched his voice higher to resemble a high-strung British butler. "I'm sorry. I meant no offense."

Big Sister sighed. "Look, Camille, I know it's not easy running this club, leading the band, and writing and recording the way that you do. I know you get a lot of pressure from people on all sides. But there's no need to take it out on your friends."

"I know, and I really am sorry," Camille said, his apology sincere this time. Then, in a not-so-subtle display of lasciviousness, his eyes raked up and down Big Sister's body. "Just so you know, I never said you weren't attractive. There's more than one type of hunger."

"Boy, if you don't—never mind." She shook her head and grabbed a laughing Camille's hand, tugging him back to the front of the club where the rest of their friends awaited.

✞♡☮

"She's not coming," Camille said in an aside to Big Sister circa two forty-five.

"We've got time."

"I still think you never saw her."

Ignoring that, Big Sister patted his nearest forearm. "She really did say she missed you. Tried to take it back in the next breath, of course, but she knew it was too late, and just ended up repeating herself."

"Stubborn," Camille said, thinking back to his conversation with Angel.

"Exactly."

"Well, church," Camille said, and clapped his hands together so loudly that everyone else in the room jumped, "if Ruthie Washington won't come here of her own free will, we'll just have to conjure her wayward spirit instead. Vienna—my cane!"

Big Sister buried her face in her hands. "Lord, help us."

Author's Note

*adopts late night radio hostess voice* This chapter is unofficially sponsored by the video for "The Same December" and Christopher Tracy's impression of Lou.

There's a special kind of pain when close friends don't believe in you.

In other news, Camille is a flirt and water is wet. There's joy in repetition.

~ TheKnowledge1814