Camilla and Sean: A Counterfeit Love Story by Araminta & Natalie Sade

Author:Araminta & Natalie Sade [Araminta & Sade, Natalie]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Urban, United States, African American, Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction, Women's Fiction
Amazon: B016U2ZJSE
Publisher: Platinum Presents
Published: 2015-10-18T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

The music was loud as I sat with Sean at Steve’s house, we were all smoking and the guys were drinking. I was one of four females in a room with about seven guys. They paid us no mind, but I was the outcast, the new girl in the group. Those girls were just there for decoration; they didn’t belong to anybody or have any significance to anyone. Sean told me before that they actually had been passed around. I assumed the one who kept staring at me had a thing for him, but I kept my quiet. Sitting on the couch, high as fuck, listening to them just talk shit wasn’t something I wanted to waste my night doing.

“Baby, I wanna go to the store.”I tell him.

“Ok, cool.” He stood.

“I can go by myself, I’m a big girl.”

“I know you a big girl.” He smirked slapping my ass. “But you my girl, and I know my hood. Come on.” Some knock-kneed, light-skinned bitch watched the whole thing with disgust expression. I made sure I made eye contact with her as he grabbed my hand and led me out of the door.

“This where you grew up, huh?” I asked.

“Yea, not far from here.” He said looking around the block.

“Awe ok.”I say holding on to him. We walked to the store around the corner, holding hands, caking and shit. I loved him, something about him. He had this natural smell of money about him, odd but true, I loved the smell of new money. Turning the corner back on the block two guys cornered us, I was scared shitless but my baby had no fear.

“Fuck you back on this block foe, nigga?” One of them said, his arm guided me behind him

“Man, ya’ll picked the wrong time for all this.” He said.

The tone of his voice took me back to how I felt holding that butcher knife when I was a kid. That tone was hazardous in anybody.

“You big bad now, nigga, in front of yo’ bitch.” One of them said.

“Look, do something or get the fuck on, bitch. I ain’t fa this talkin’ shit.” Sean declared. I felt him pull a pistol from his waistband.

A pretty little subcompact 9mm berretta he’d called himself teaching me to shoot it only a few days prior. One of the boys went inside his jacket, and Sean pushed me behind one of the cars on the street. How the fuck did I end up in a shootout, what the hell was he doing in a shootout? I ducked with my head between my knees praying a bullet wouldn’t ricochet and hit me. I also prayed that Sean would be ok.

“Camilla.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me up and we ran back to the apartment. “Fuck!!” He yelled crashing on the couch.

“Sean, baby, are you ok?” I asked franticly holding his face to mine. He held his side and I could see the blood in his fingers.

“Fuck.” He grunted. The girls who were laughing and drinking in his face were now halfway down the stairs.

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