by Nikki Carter
“What was that?” Sam asks. He sounds as irritated as I feel.
“That’s the same thing I was sitting over here thinking. The song did not need any of that extra mess.”
I hear Sam’s annoyed exhale over the phone. “They took a piece of music and turned it into a wack, mediocre radio track. Hearing Truth’s voice on there is freaking me the heck out.”
“I wish they had asked my opinion,” I complain. “But I guess that’s just Big D flexin’ and letting us know who’s running Big D in the A Records.”
“Yeah, well, he ain’t running nothing over at Epsilon Records.”
I laugh out loud. “What’s that got to do with anything? We don’t deal directly with Epsilon anyway. You’re going through Big D, and I’m going through Mystique.”
“Not for long, baby girl. I’m going to make a bid for an in-house songwriter gig with Epsilon. Maybe go up to New York a while after the tour. I’ve got to get out from under Big D’s shadow.”
“But won’t that hurt Big D? He’s gonna trip out if you leave him.”
“The only thing that a person can be certain of in life is change. He’s just gonna have to roll with it.”
I chuckle. “You getting all lyrical and poetic, sounding the way a true songwriter is supposed to sound.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Uncomfortable silence ensues. I hate uncomfortable silences.
I clear my throat and say, “So …”
“Why are you going to prom with Dilly?” Sam interrupts. “That’s like a serious insult, you know. He’s lamer than a mug.”
“Your opinion. And I know you don’t think that Rielle chick is a step up from me. I don’t even think so.”
“Okay, whatever. But I thought you didn’t like him because he’s Bryce’s little brother. What happened to all that noise you were doing over at Zac’s house? All that blowing up you were about to do?”
“I didn’t say I was marrying the boy. I’m going to prom with him….”
“And doing a song with him.”
“That’s business,” I reply. “That has nothing to do with him being my prom date.”
“Just be careful, Sunday. Bryce is real shady.”
Hello? Earth to Sam. I already know that. I could probably prove that Bryce is shady to a jury of his peers, and I haven’t taken one law class yet.
But since I want this conversation to end, I reply, “All right, Sam. I’ll be careful.”
Sam is tripping anyway. He doesn’t get to care about who I go to prom with. He doesn’t get to worry about who I’m crushing on. The only thing he gets to worry about, as far as I’m concerned, is this here music. And our single just played on the radio, so ain’t nothing to worry about there. Know what I mean?
8
Eight o’clock in the morning is too early to be getting up and going over anybody’s house. Especially when that person thinks you’re about to do some kind of dance routine. This is what I call unnecessary roughness. Violation awarded to Mystique.
“Y’all can go ahead and stretch. Get loosened up. Hit those hamstrings, quads, glutes, and do some back stretches too. I’m going to get some Gatorade.”
Mystique bounces out of her custom dance studio and up the stairs. The room reminds me of the ballet classes that Dreya and I were forced to take when we were seven. There’s a bar attached to the wall that’s a full mirror. The floors are shining like they’ve got ten coats of wax on them.
“Why do we need to do all those stretches?” Dreya asks. “She’s making it sound like we’re about to do some kind of workout video.”
“I want to know why I even have to be here. It’s your single! I’m not even done with my record yet. I should be at home working on music.”
“Or with Sam at the lab,” she says with a snicker.
“Why you say it like that?”
Dreya shrugs. “Because that’s messed up that y’all still have to work with each other. I heard how he played you about prom.”
Okay, Dreya is taking this forget-the-cameraman-is-there thing a little too seriously. We are not about to rehash my personal drama on TV.
“He didn’t play me. I uninvited him. It’s all good.”
“Well, I knew y’all wasn’t gonna make it after the fight with him and Truth. I mean he felt like you were pushing up on another dude.”
I put both hands on my hips. “You and I both know I wasn’t pushing up on Truth.”
If anything Truth was pushing up on me. That night at the club and just about every day prior to that.
“Truth told me you weren’t.”
“So why are we talking about it?”
“I’m just saying why Sam is not checking for you. But Dilly is. He’s cute, but … you know.”
I widen my eyes at Dreya. We signed release forms that say they can basically put anything we say on national TV. She’s tripping bringing up Dilly and that situation. Bryce and his shooting spree are definitely not ready for prime time family viewing. And then what about when my mom sees this? She would have a cow.
“Yes, I know. Think about my mom, Dreya. I don’t want to upset her, you know? She’s already going through enough.”
Mystique reappears with the drinks in hand. She sits them in a corner of the room.
“Are y’all warmed up?” she asks.
“Um, yeah, about that. We were just chitchatting because we don’t know how to do all that stuff you said,” Dreya says.
Mystique frowns. “Y’all don’t know how to stretch? Y’all don’t play sports?”
“We play music,” I say.
Mystique does a few neck circles and stretches her arms over her head. “Okay, then let’s start with the stretches.”
She walks us through hamstring and calf stretches. Then, we stretch our backs and arms with a series of yoga-like moves. Then we do some deep breathing in a seated position on the floor.
I’m already tired, and we haven’t started dancing yet.
“Now that y’all are warmed up, let’s get to some real work.”
Mystique walks over to the sound system that’s built into the wall and presses a button. A fast, club track starts playing. Dreya and I look at each other, and I can tell my cousin and I for one rare instant are on the same page.
Mystique smiles at us. “I know this is fast, and it sounds nothing like your track, but we’re gonna get our blood pumping on this one. Just follow me, like we’re in an aerobics class.”
Mystique starts with a one-two step that’s pretty simple, but once me and Dreya get the hang of it, she adds a slide to the step. That’s where she loses Dreya. I try to keep up, but after a slide to both sides, I’m hopelessly off beat.
“Drama, keep going,” Mystique says. “If you’re on stage and you mess up the choreography, you can’t just stand there. Get used to recovering from a mistake.”
Dreya rolls her eyes, and tries to start again. I know she’s only being this dedicated because those cameras are rolling. She would’ve been gone if not for that.
I’m huffing and puffing like I weigh a thousand pounds, but it seems like Mystique is just getting started. She dips down to the floor in a half squat and then pops her body precisely to the beat. This is one of Dreya’s favorite moves so she does it too.
“Your lower body has the right motion, but your upper body is stiff as a board,” Mystique critiques. “Pop your shoulder blades back as you pop your hips. Switch your head from side to side. Make sure your whole body is either in motion or in preparation for motion.”
Now Dreya does stop. “You think this is Dancing with the Stars or something? We can’t do all that.”
“Not today you can’t,” Mystique says, “but in a few weeks, by the time we go on tour, you’ll be a lot hotter than you are right now.”
For some reason, that bit of encouragement from Mystique gets me pumped. I close my eyes and try to catch the beat. I feel myself swaying from side to side, and then I start the one-two step again. Then the slides co
me naturally.
I open my eyes when the track ends, and Mystique is beaming at me. “Sunday, that was hot. In a little bit, you’ll be out-dancing me.”
Dreya gives three hard claps. “Yeah, Sunday. You’re a real natural.”
There’s a smile on Dreya’s face, but the look in her eyes is pure hateration. I don’t think Mystique notices, because she goes back to the sound system and changes the music. The intro to “Love Is” blares out of the speakers.
“Okay, Drama. I’ve been thinking of something really simple and hot for your video. We’re going to have about twenty female dancers, and you’ll be at the front. They’ll fan out behind you like a pyramid.”
Mystique starts dancing, doing very fluid motions. On some parts it even looks like she’s moving in slow motion. I can imagine how hot this would look with twenty girls doing it.
“It’s supposed to look like synchronized swimming,” Mystique explains. “Except that you’re standing up.”
Dreya flares her nose as if the dance has a horrible odor. She folds her arms across her chest to emphasize her displeasure with the dance.
Mystique turns the music off. “You don’t like it?”
“No. I think it’s obvious that I don’t,” Dreya says.
Mystique stretches her arms over her head. “I spent a lot of time on that choreography, Drama. The least you could do is try it out.”
“No. The least I can do is not try it.”
Dreya snatches up her stuff. “That’s why I drove myself, I knew she was going to try to hold us prisoner. Sunday, if you’re riding with me, come on.”
“I want to learn some more. I’ll catch a ride home with Benji.”
Dreya sneers in my direction. “You’re really playing that protégée role, huh. It fits you.”
“What role are you playing?” Mystique asks. “You keep that diva thing up, it’s gonna be unemployed R & B chick.”
Dreya looks over at the cameras and glares at Mystique. Then, she spins on one heel and storms out of the studio.
I’m lightweight tripping myself that Mystique played Dreya like that with the cameras rolling. Yeah, she needs a reality check, but dang. This is TV. You can’t take that back.
“Don’t worry. That won’t end up on the show. I’ll make sure of it,” Mystique assures me as if she’s reading my mind.
I really hope Mystique is telling the truth about this, because no matter what, Dreya is my cousin. I’ve got to have her back even when I don’t want to, because that’s how Tollivers roll.
9
“Honey, you look gorgeous!”
I beam a huge smile at my mother, as I do a little spin in the studio lounge. I’m wearing my fitted, money green, sequin-covered dress. Mystique’s personal hairstylists and makeup artists are here with us at the studio helping us get ready for prom. And of course, the BET film crew is recording it all.
Aunt Charlie struts around the studio lounge flipping her platinum blond lace front that she bought specifically for this occasion. I’m not even going to talk about the platinum mink eyelashes that she’s rocking. Wait. Yes, I am. She looks like Lambchop from the ‘hood.
Aunt Charlie slaps Big D a high five. “My baby is on fiyah, ain’t she?”
I’m so tired of people saying on fiyah this and on fiyah that. Not too long ago, I remember people said some body was burning and that wasn’t a good thing. Now it’s the hotter the better.
Big D laughs at Aunt Charlie doing the Stanky Leg dance. “Yes, Ms. Tolliver. She is on fiyah.”
Aunt Charlie immediately stops dancing and frowns. “Ms. Tolliver was my mama! Or maybe my big Sister Shawn. I’m Charlie, baby.”
Manny, who’s standing right next to Aunt Charlie, gives his mother a wide-eyed, glazed-over stare. Then, he looks dead into the camera before tugging Aunt Charlie’s leg.
“What you need, baby boy?” she asks.
“Um, can you find me some juice, Charlie?”
Everybody bursts into laughter as Aunt Charlie’s face scrunches into a frown. She lunges toward Manny as he tries to escape a smack on the butt.
Chuckling, my mother asks, “When are the boys getting here?”
My heart rate speeds up just a little. Everyone knows not to say anything about Dilly being related to Bryce. We even gave Mystique a little bit of a cover story. We told her that my mom went to school with LaKeisha and they had beef back then. We couldn’t tell her the whole story, but we needed to let her know enough so that she’d help keep my mom in the dark.
Big D responds to my mother, “Soon, Ms. Tolliver. Sam went to scoop Dilly and Truth. I don’t know how Bethany’s date is getting here, but he better come on with the come on. When the limo gets here it’s a wrap.”
I force a smile onto my face to keep from frowning. Bethany is going with my ex-boyfriend Romell. I don’t want him as a part of my prom night or on our TV show.
My mother asks, “Who is Dilly again? I don’t think you’ve introduced us. I thought you were going with Sam.”
“Mom, I told you about Sam. Dilly is an Epsilon artist, and he’s nice. You’ll like him, I promise.”
She pokes out her lips. “I guess. But I don’t think I’ll like him more than I like Sam.”
“They need to hurry up,” Dreya says. “I said I wanted to be fashionably late, but dang!”
Dreya fluffs up her little spiky hairdo, and runs a hand over her platinum gown. I was surprised that she wanted to wear a floor length dress. It’s very classy, and very anti-Dreya. Her accessories are silver and rhinestone. She’s got big rhinestone earrings, and she’s also got them on her shoes. My favorite piece of her ensemble is her silver Egyptian bracelet that winds up her arm like a metal snake.
Bethany’s look, in my opinion, reminds me of one of those girls from the Flavor of Love show. Her dress is a red spandex halter, and she’s got bare legs and clear platform shoes. The result is the opposite of fly. But then again we are talking about Bethany.
Aunt Charlie and Manny come back into the lounge, her sashaying like she’s on a runway and him sipping his favorite thing in the world—somebody else’s juice.
“Girl, you are bad to the bone,” Aunt Charlie says to Dreya. “Ain’t my baby bad to the bone?”
I believe we’ve already given Dreya enough compliments on her badness! Aunt Charlie pops her fingers and dances to a song that only she can hear. She really needs to sit herself down somewhere before she pulls a muscle or something. I laugh quietly inside when the cameraman shoots in the opposite direction of Aunt Charlie.
Finally, the guys are here. Truth is wearing a standard white tux, but his platinum tuxedo shirt is anything but the norm. He does a little twirl for the camera, then he pulls Dreya into his arms and gives her a big bear hug. And Sam is here, too! Why, why, why!
“Sam,” I say, “you came!”
“I did,” he says with a grin.
“Dude … really? Why did you come?”
“I want to see my friends off to prom! Truth and Big D came over when I left.”
“They came to see you and Rielle off to prom?”
“Yeah … you had to bring that up, Sunday?”
“You’re the one who brought up your prom.”
“Boy! You better not mess up my hair!” Dreya fusses.
“All three of y’all look good, but y’all ain’t got nothing on my baby!” Truth declares as he takes in me and Bethany.
Bethany rolls her eyes and goes to open the door for Romell who just pulled up outside. I swallow hard and try to avoid Sam’s gaze. It doesn’t seem right for him to be standing here in an Aeropostale tee and jeans instead of a tuxedo.
Dilly’s money green vest matches my dress perfectly. He smells great too. But I’m tripping wishing that Sam was my date and not Dilly.
Sam kisses my mom on the cheek. “Hey, Ms. Tolliver.”
“Hey, Sam. Did you bring me one of your prom pictures? It was last night, right?”
I look away and swallow again. Why’d she
have to bring up his prom?
Dilly takes me by the hand and spins me around. “You look great, Sunday!”
I could hug him for changing the subject. I try to make my face look as happy as I possibly can. “You do too, Dilly-Dill. You look like a million bucks.”
He laughs. “I wish I had a million bucks, I do in my head/But I’d take a million of your kisses instead.”
“The freestyle king!” Big D says with a laugh. “You always got a rhyme ready don’t you?”
Dilly shrugs and smiles at me. “Only when I’m inspired.”
Now, I’m blushing. Dilly’s getting under my skin, even though I don’t want him there. I think he’s getting under Sam’s skin too, but not in a good way. Sam abruptly leaves the room, and I can’t think of a thing to say to make him stay, nor do I want to. I’m getting high from all this attention from Dilly.
“Romell is up in the spot!”
Why did this fool bust up in the room dancing like he’s on Stomp the Yard or something? He looks so stupid right now. And Bethany looks like she can’t figure out if she should be embarrassed.
She should be.
Dreya rolls her eyes at him. She never did like Romell, not even when he and I were kicking it. “Come on, let’s go. The limo is outside.”
“Wait,” Romell says. “Big D, can I do an impromptu audition for you?”
Big D’s eyebrows scrunch into a frown. “Right now, man? Y’all ‘bout to go to prom.”
“It won’t take long. I’ve been working on some stuff for you.”
I guess Romell isn’t done hamming it up for the BET video crew. Truth rolls his eyes, and Dilly pulls me toward the door. Poor Bethany (I actually do feel sorry for her) looks like she wants to hide in a corner.
Romell starts bobbing his head to an imaginary beat. “I rocks the proper way/Stuntin’ in the A/All day e’ry day/What can I say?”
Oh, my goodness. He couldn’t be any worse. I was hoping that he had at least a little bit of skill. It’s a good thing we’re seniors, because he’d never last another school year at Decatur High after this airs on BET. They’d laugh him right up out of the school.
