from the chair and down to the floor to press her ear to the vent.
She heard a woman’s soft giggle and then Awed’s voice, thick and guttural, “Whose pussy is this, bitch!” and the thumping sounds became louder, faster.
“Yours! Yours!” the woman screamed.
Campbell’s eyes bulged.
“Whose, whose!”
“A-a-aweeeeeeeeed!”
Campbell remained at the vent, alternating ears, ignoring the pain the beige and white linoleum was causing on her soft knees. She was mesmerized with the lewd call-and-response game Awed and his lady friend played.
“Whose, whose, whose!”
“Aweeeeeeeeeed!”
Millie called from work, just as she did every day at four p.m.
“Hello?” Campbell answered breathlessly, the sudden ringing of the phone catching her off guard and making her feel guilty.
“What you doing?” Millie asked suspiciously. “Who’s there?”
“No one—I was in the bathroom.”
“Uh-huh.”
Millie announced that she would be detained at least another hour and said for Campbell to remove the frozen chicken parts that she planned to fry for dinner that night.
“Is your father home?” she asked as an afterthought, but Campbell knew that Millie had wanted to ask that question at the very beginning of the conversation.
“No.” She sighed, her eyes glued to the vent, her ears straining to hear what she was missing.
Fred had not come home from work yet. He worked the midnight-to-eight shift for sanitation and should have been home by ten o’clock that morning, but it was just past four, and he’d still not arrived.
Millie was quiet for a moment and then offered a quick goodbye before slamming the receiver down in its cradle.
Her mother’s orders forgotten, Campbell rushed back to the vent. Just as she was getting herself situated, the front door swung open, and Clarence whisked in, hands laden with shopping bags.
“Hello, Princess Campbell!” he sang before gliding down the stairs to his apartment.
“Hey,” she called back.
She’d barely been able to get to her feet before he’d breezed past the door. If it had been closed, like it was supposed to be, she wouldn’t have had to move at all, but she’d gotten so used to it being open when her parents were home and had taken to doing the same.
She could hear Clarence jiggling the lock, could hear the keys clinking together as he became more and more frustrated. He breathed and then sucked his teeth before knocking; he knocked softly at first and then called to Awed through the door.
“Awed . . . Awed, you’ve got the double lock on. You know I don’t have a key for that. Awed?”
Awed’s feet hit the floor; quick shuffling sounds followed as he and whatever woman he had there tried desperately to locate their clothing.
“Awed!” Clarence’s voice was shrill. He’d heard the rustling, shuffling sounds too. “Awed, you open this door right this minute. Right this goddamn minute!”
Clarence banged on the door now, his shouts climbing to the screams of a frantic woman.
Campbell wondered if she should call the police, Millie, or Luscious, but she couldn’t move; she was glued to the vent.
There was an endless instant of silence that was so intense she could hear the insistent tick-tick-tick of the pumpkin clock that sat on the wall above the refrigerator.
She held her breath and waited.
“Gimme a damn minute,” Awed’s voice finally came.
The door slowly opened, and Clarence was met with a dusky blackness that was weighed down with the scent of cigarettes, beer, and sex.
Awed, who was wearing just a pair of red-and-white-striped boxer shorts, stood with his arms folded across his chest. The sight of him, half-naked with that nonchalant look on his face, almost undid Clarence, but he quickly composed himself and screamed, “Oh no, you didn’t bring some bitch up in here!” Clarence pushed past him and stormed into the apartment. “Where is she! Where is that skank!”
Awed just snorted, scratched his balls, and calmly followed Clarence inside.
There was a scream. Campbell couldn’t tell if it was the woman or Clarence. A crashing sound followed and then another scream.
“Oh, bitch, you done did it now!” Clarence screeched before a half-dressed female, whom Campbell recognized as the token booth clerk from the Ralph Avenue train station, came running out.
Her jeans were on, but only halfway up her hips, leaving quite a bit of her naked behind exposed.
She took the stairs two at a time, her face a canvas of terror. Clarence was on her heels, his long fingers grasping for the shoulder-length synthetic hair that flared out behind her like a woolen cape.
Campbell was in the hallway by then. The woman made it through the front door, but only because Clarence lost his footing when he slipped on the throw rug that Millie had laid out in the hallway for days when the rain fell and shoe bottoms were damp and muddy.
What followed was horrible: Clarence pacing the hallway, his hands balled into tight fists, screaming and crying, cussing at the top of his lungs.
Awed just watched him, a thin smirk painted across his face. When he’d heard and seen enough, he waved his hand at Clarence, blew some air from between his lips, turned, shot Campbell an even look, and descended the stairs to his apartment—and quietly closed the door.
Clarence let out a wounded sound and crumpled to the floor. He pulled his knees up to his chest and began sobbing uncontrollably.
Campbell’s heart was racing. She’d never seen a man cry before, none except for the drunks in the Brookline Projects. But this was different; this was out-and-out sobbing that she’d seen only from women at funerals.
Campbell snatched a napkin from the holder on the kitchen table and carefully approached Clarence, not sure what to do and finally just sort of stuffing it between Clarence’s clenched hands.
“Th-thank you, princess,” he said as he began dabbing the corners of his eyes with it. “I’m so sorry you had to be here for this madness.” He forced a shaky smile. “Awed is just a piece of shit.” A fresh stream of tears poured down his face. “A bastard,” he added, and then wiped at his face again. “Well, I suppose it’s all out in the open now, huh, princess?” he mumbled as he stood up and brushed at the creases in his pant leg.
Campbell didn’t know what he was referring to, the part about Awed being unfaithful or that he was a piece of shit. She looked at Clarence and then down at her feet. “Uhm,” she uttered, and bit her bottom lip.
“Well,
