The front bell rang in the air conditioned lobby of Hartfield's Jewelers. Camille stopped doodling on her notepad and peered over her glasses. A somewhat fuzzy woman stomped her way. She slammed what looked like an engagement ring on the glass counter and huffed, "I want a refund."
Camille closed her notepad and folded her hands, "Do you have a receipt ma'am?"
"No I do not, but my no good cheatin' sonofabitch ex-fiance already packed up and left." The lady pursed her lips and forced a hand on her hip.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry but unless you have proof of purchase we can't accept this ring."
She leaned in. "Look little girl, I didn't come all this way down here to leave empty handed." She shifted her weight and pushed the ring further across the counter.
"I'm sorry but-"
"Where's your manager! I wanna speak to somebody who knows what they're doing!"
Camille politely smiled and hurried to the back. Her manager, Earl, sprang into action to placate the irate customer. Camille sighed with relief and returned to her cartoon kitty with the big ears and fluffy tail. She added a few whiskers and a collar with a jingly bell. After a few minutes of Earl repeating what Camille already told the lady, he re-entered the back and snatched his can of Copenhagen from his desk.
"Good god!" He threw a big pinch of dip in, enough to cover his lower lip. "I swear," he spat into his half-filled water bottle. "Some people just can't follow directions worth a damn." Camille giggled and returned to her doodles. The front bell rang again.
"Earl?" a male voice called out.
Earl put his bottle down and checked out front. "Sam!" Camille heard from the back. Curious, she crept to the door frame and leaned out to see who was out front. Her eyes fell on a man wearing a heavy leather jacket and blue jeans. She stared at his grey stubble and imagined what it felt like against her cheek. His hair, though black and white, was slicked back in a tasteful high and tight cut. He smiled, laughed with Earl, then locked eyes with her.
Camille jerked back behind the wall but could already hear Earl calling, "C'mon now, don't be shy." She shuffled forward into the doorway and approached the stranger. He towered over her petite frame and seemed to fill up her entire view. Sunglasses hung from his front pocket, and she noticed the bottoms of his pants were coated in dirt.
He smiled and put a hand out. "Hey there," he said. "Name's Sam."
She delicately shook his hand and felt the rough edges from years of hard work. "Hi," she squeaked. "I'm Camille."
"Nice to meet you Camille." He tipped his head.
She giggled a little and immediately covered her mouth.
Earl rolled his eyes, but he still smiled. "Sam here's from outta town. We're gonna go drown our sorrows over at Tramps later tonight. You're welcome to come join us, but lemme guess... 'no thank you Earl.'"
"Come on Earl," Camille sighed. "You know I don't drink."
Sam chimed in, "There's plenty more to do than drink. Tonight's pool and poker. Lotta fierce competition among the drunks."
Camille giggled again, "Well, okay, if you insist."
"I do," Sam winked and curled his lip. Camille felt her cheeks glow rosy and warm.
"Alrighty then!" Earl said.
Another customer rang through the door. Camille attended to them while Earl and Sam caught up. Every so often her gaze trailed off toward Sam's jawline. Every time he smiled his neck bulged a bit. Concentrating proved difficult as her mind ran away with thoughts of him shedding his jacket. Twice the customer asked if she was paying attention. Earl and Sam headed to the back as Camille continued to cover the front counter. After the customer left, she flipped to a new page in her notepad and started a new doodle. It began with what was supposed to be a puppy, but it soon evolved into a naked male torso. Her pencil contoured a chiseled physique with subtle abs and formidable biceps. She traced her finger along the left pectoral and gently bit her lower lip.
"Hey Camille," Earl said from behind.
She slammed her notepad closed and whipped around. "Yeah?" she said.
"I'mma head out and pick up my kids from school. You okay to close up shop?" He added a thumbs up.
"Of course Mr. Hartfield." She adjusted her glasses and smiled.
Earl tossed his keys in the air. "See you two at Tramps," he said.
Sam walked around to the front and leaned over the glass. He rapt his fingers against the surface and tapped the tip of his work boot against the hardwood floor. Camille smiled nervously. She stuffed her notepad in a corner behind a necklace display. Sam rubbed his nose as he sniffed the air. His eyes scanned the different rings, watches, wristbands, and eventually made their way up to hers. She looked down and pretended not to notice him eyeing her up and down.
"So where you from?" she inquired.
"I come up from Montgomery, not too far. And you?" He straightened up.
"Oh I was born and raised her in Calera. Not too much goes on."
He nodded, smiled, but didn't say anything.
"So how do you know Earl?"
"Oh he and I went to MMI back in '89. We both did Army ROTC then got shipped off to the Gulf War. Kept in touch over the years. I came back, worked in Montgomery at the Montgomery Police Academy. Earl mentioned he'd opened a jewelry store. Couldn't hardly believe it."
"Why's that?"
"Earl was always tryna be Mr. Macho at basic. Think it had something to do with him bein' real skinny. Course, I guess people change." He pulled out a can of Copenhagen from his back pocket, except this one was green, not blue like Earls. "Mind if I?"
Camille shook her head. "Would you like a bottle?" She fished around, then held up an empty plastic one.
"Thank you." Sam took it and threw in a lip. Camille watched his tongue roll out from between his lips.
She watched his lower lip bulge out. "So you were a police officer?"
