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got game, but I just rolled through your hood, nobody know your name. They said who that is? He live on our street? He must be a hermit ’cause he and I never meet.”
    Camille gave them a bit of leeway for at least knowing the meaning of the term “hermit.” But when the next boy spouted off his vulgar lyrics, Camille had to speak up. They owed her a little respect, seeing as she was thirty and all. “Excuse me, could you all hold it down just a little bit? I’m having a hard time concentrating.”
    â€œAw, miss,” one of the girls pleaded, “they already made us move from over there by the computers. Seems like people don’t want us anywhere. We just singing.” Her innocent appeal was echoed by the group.
    Camille smiled. “Sweetheart, what’s your name?”
    â€œDiamond.”
    â€œDiamond, I can assure you that what you all were singing was not music.”
    â€œOh, snap,” one of boys said while clapping his hands. “Old-school went off on you.”
    Before anyone could get seriously offended, Camille continued, “This stuff you call music today is nothing compared to what music used to be. I know. I used to sing with a group called Sweet Treats.”
    â€œSweet Treats? What was that—a group of suckers?” the other girl asked. She was the smaller of the two but obviously had the bigger attitude and much bigger braids swooping across her forehead.
    Undaunted, the diva raised an eyebrow. “Come here. I’ll show you exactly what Sweet Treats was all about.”
    The teens gathered over Camille’s shoulder as she googled images of her former fame. She clicked to maximize the picture of Sweet Treats sitting next to Destiny’s Child at the American Music Awards. “See, right there. That’s me.”
    â€œOoh! You was sitting right next to Beyoncé!” Diamond yelled in utter amazement.
    â€œCorrection. Beyoncé was sitting right next to me ,” Camille bragged.
    â€œOkay, sing something,” a boy challenged.
    Instantly, Camille sang her favorite line from the ballad Teddy Riley wrote specifically for their group. “If I leave tonight, you don’t have to change the locks on the door. You won’t see me anymore.”
    All doubts about Camille’s authority as a singer disappeared as three out of four gave her props. “Dang! You can sang!”
    â€œCan you do it again so I can put it on my cell phone?”
    â€œI want to take a picture with you.”
    The last, of course, accosted Camille with another stinging question. “Okay, so if you was all sitting next to Destiny’s Child and Mariah Carey, how come you ain’t in Hollywood or somewhere right now with the rest of the rich people?”
    Camille had to submit. “You know what? I’ve been asking myself that same question. That’s why I’m here tonight. Tryin’ to get back in the game.”
    â€œWell, you can sing,” the girl finally admitted, “but don’t be actin’ like you better than everybody else. That’s all I’m sayin’.
    â€œCome on, y’all, let’s go.”
    Diamond grabbed her purse. “Good luck, miss.”

CHAPTER 4
    A lexis dropped the phone into her backpack and breathed a heavy sigh. “Thank You, Lord.” Hearing from Camille after all these years brought both relief and a burden. Not like she didn’t have enough stones around her neck already, but—like her parents—Alexis bore them with thanks. This was her season’s assignment, and she would gladly endure.
    â€œWho were you singing to, baby?” Momma asked from the couch.
    Daddy, who had reclined dangerously beyond the chair’s intended range, answered for his daughter. “Ain’t none of your business, now, Mattie. ’Lexis got a life of her own.”
    Momma piped up, “I can ask my daughter whatsoever question I want to ask