All the Wrong Moves

by Nikki Carter

  I scrunch my nose up. I don’t like the idea at all. “Sorority? I don’t know if I’m a sorority kind of girl.”

  “You’ve got to go Greek! And old school too. You’re a Delta all day and all night.”

  “I am? I thought I was more of an AKA?”

  Sam shakes his head. “Either are good, but since I’m going to be an Omega man, you should pledge Delta.”

  “And why would I want to do that?”

  “Because we’re going to be college sweethearts.”

  I toss my head back and bathe my neck and hair in the water. “We are?”

  “Yeah. Don’t you think so?”

  I chuckle. “No comment. What else do you want to do at Georgia Tech other than join a fraternity?”

  Sam rolls his eyes. Probably because I evaded his question. He’ll get over it.

  “I think I’m trying out for the marching band,” he says.

  “Marching band? What band instrument do you play?”

  Sam makes a drumming motion with his hands as if he’s holding invisible drum sticks. “Snare drum.”

  “You’re a little drummer boy? I didn’t know that.”

  Sam smiles, and immediately his face is two hundred percent cuter than it normally is. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

  “Okay, I’ll accept that. We really haven’t gotten to know each other outside of music. I’ve gotta admit I thought you were a little shallow.”

  Sam’s eyes buck out of his head. “Shallow? Are you kidding me? I’m the deepest brotha you know.”

  “Really. Then if you’re so deep why are you worried about a young dude like Dilly? He doesn’t have anything on you, right?”

  Sam grins. “He doesn’t have anything on me. As long as you know that, I’m good.”

  “If you’re good, then I’m good.”

  We’re good, so nothing else needs to be said.

  22

  Sam and I meet back up with everyone at the hotel, in Big D’s suite after the concert is over. I’ve got my hair pulled up into a wet ponytail, and I’ve changed into sweat shorts and a tiny tee.

  “You look refreshed,” Big D says as we all pile into the suite.

  “Thank you!” I say. “I feel a lot better. Relaxed.”

  Too bad we didn’t take Dreya with us to the spa. She’s on a rampage about something new. Apparently, a blogger is up in her business again. You would think she’d get tired of going from one tirade to the next, but she doesn’t.

  “What’s wrong now?” I ask Big D.

  He replies, “Some Atlanta blogger said that she was a high school dropout.”

  I cover my mouth with my hand. “Wow! I see why she’s mad. There’s a huge difference between flunking twelfth grade and dropping out of school.”

  Sam reads the blog post out loud. “Our secret spies tell us that Epsilon recording artist Drama was out with the rest of her tour-mates when they started celebrating her cousin Sunday’s graduation. Our sources say that while Sunday was there in her cap and gown, Drama sat in a corner pouting, talking about her tutor. Wonder what Epsilon will do about the juvenile delinquent on their record label. That’s a real example for the kids, right?”

  “Wow,” is all I can muster. That article is a hot crazy mess.

  Bethany scoffs, “They didn’t even mention that we celebrated my graduation too!”

  “Nobody knows who you are,” Dilly says. “That’s why they didn’t mention you.”

  “I just like how they said I was wearing a cap and gown. I so didn’t have that on,” I say.

  Dreya paces back and forth across the floor. “Get that camera out of here!”

  “We have a right to be here,” Chad, the producer, says. “You signed a contract and there’s no way we’re missing this meltdown.”

  Big D says, “Listen, man. You’ve got enough footage of this. Either you leave or I have you forcefully removed.”

  “I will be reporting this to Epsilon Records,” Chad says.

  “Go ahead. I guarantee you that they don’t want this portrayed on their show. I know that without a doubt.”

  Chad reluctantly leaves with his cameraman. Big D then forces Dreya to sit down on the big fluffy chair on the side of his bed.

  “Drama, chill out. We know you didn’t drop out of school. There’s no need to get all twisted over a lie.”

  “I’m not twisted about the story. I’m twisted that somebody in our camp is a snitch. I think someone is feeding this stuff to the bloggers.”

  Her eyes fall on every person in the room. Me, Sam, Bethany, Truth, Big D, Shelly, Regina, and Dilly. I don’t think any one of us would do anything to jeopardize the tour, but I don’t think she sees it like that. But Dreya only ever sees what she wants to see.

  My telephone rings. “Hey, Mystique.”

  “Hi, Sunday. Are you in the same room with Drama and the rest of the crew?”

  “Yes.”

  “Excuse yourself and walk back to your own room. Then call me.”

  “Is everything okay?” I ask.

  She replies, “Yes. It’s time for a little damage control. Epsilon Records is breathing down my neck about this Internet story.”

  “Hey, y’all, I’ll be right back,” I say after pressing End on my cell phone.

  “Where are you going?” Dreya asks. “Off to tell the bloggers more lies about me?”

  I shake my head. “Actually, no. But if you want I can tell them lots about you. Stuff that you’ll know I told, because no one else knows about it.”

  Dreya does not want to go there with me. I know all kinds of stuff about her that would make the Internet bloggers drool. Ooh, I know. How about the case of chlamydia she caught in the eleventh grade, from another girl’s boyfriend? Yeah, that’s a good one.

  She soooo doesn’t want to rumble with me.

  Once I’m in my hotel room, I pull out my cell phone and call Mystique back. “Hey. It’s me.”

  Mystique says, “I’m going to conference you with Atlanta Spyce.”

  “What? I don’t want to talk to her.”

  “Yes, you do. If you want this tour to keep its sponsors, then you most definitely want to talk to her.”

  “But she’s the blogger who posted the story about Dreya.”

  “Yes, and she’s willing to retract it, if the denial comes directly from you or Drama. I didn’t think your cousin would do it.”

  I sigh loudly and plop down on my bed. “Okay, go ahead and call her.”

  Mystique puts me on hold while she dials. I guess it’s not enough for me not to have any scandals of my own. Now I have to clear up mess that has to do with Dreya. Wonderful.

  Mystique clicks back over. “Okay, I have Spyce on the line.”

  “Hey, Spyce,” I say cheerfully. “How are you?”

  The woman laughs a throaty laugh. She sounds like my grandmama. I don’t know why I thought she’d be a young person.

  “I’ll be better once I get this interview. Y’all are gonna get my hit count up to a million hits today.”

  “Glad we could help,” I say in my sarcastic tone. There’s something creepy about the woman. I can almost imagine her slithering around on the floor wherever she is.

  “So tell me, Sunday, did your cousin, Drama, drop out of high school?”

  “No, she did not. She missed a lot of school our senior year, recording her album and doing promo dates. She’s only a half credit away from graduating.”

  “Our sources tell us that she didn’t graduate because she cheated on her final English exam and someone gave her a fake cheat sheet.”

  I take a huge gulp. Is Bethany the one feeding dirt to the bloggers? She’s the only one, besides me, who knows about Dreya’s cheating.

  “That’s ludicrous,” I say, the lie burning the roof of my mouth as it comes out. “Dreya is so passionate about education. She’d never do that. In fact, she’s working with her tutor right now to make sure she gets her diploma as soon as possible.”

>   “That’s good to know. I hear you’re college bound.”

  “Yep. I’m going to Spelman College in Atlanta.”

  “What about Drama? Is she attending Spelman too?”

  “Um, no. I think she’ll probably think of college after she’s done promoting her current album and releasing her sophomore album.”

  “You are a great spokesperson for your cousin,” Spyce says. “You should be in public relations. It’s a shame we couldn’t get her on the line.”

  “She’s so broken up about the story. I don’t think she would’ve given you a good interview,” I say truthfully.

  The interview Dreya would’ve given would’ve just been full of curse words and insults. Spyce better hope that Dreya doesn’t see her out and about.

  Mystique says, “Okay, Spyce, that should be enough to clear up anything. You good?”

  “I’m good. Thank you, Mystique. I’m one of your biggest fans, you know that right?”

  Mystique replies, “Thank you, girl. I sure appreciate you.”

  Mystique disconnects Spyce. Then she says, “You know what? Hang up and call me right back. I want to make sure the line is clear.”

  I do what Mystique says, and she answers on the first ring. “Okay, cool. Good interview, Sunday. That ought to help your messy cousin.”

  “I hope so. It was a lie anyway. She didn’t drop out of school. I think she was really trying hard to graduate.”

  “I don’t care about that,” Mystique says. “Drama is living up to her name, and Epsilon is not feeling it. She needs to be careful.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “How did the show go in Jacksonville Beach?”

  I perk up at the new topic. “It was fun. My microphone went out on me just as we were about to start. But we had some fun with it. Dilly got a chance to freestyle.”

  “I know. He called and told Zac,” Mystique says. “He was so excited. He said the crowd was pumped.”

  “They liked him for sure.”

  “I think Zac might move the release date for his album up some. He’s starting to think that Dilly might be what people want right now.”

  “Cool!”

  “I think he has a huge crush on you, too, Sunday.”

  Now why would Mystique drop that on me out of nowhere? I don’t need to hear that Dilly has a crush on me. It’s already hard enough holding a conversation with him and those dreamy eyes.

  “He does not!” I say. “He just tried to holla at Bethany the other day.”

  “Probably because he thought you’d tell him to bounce. It would be great for the label if y’all explored that. Y’all would be the teen-friendly version of Truth and Drama.”

  It sounds good and everything, and Dilly’s hot enough and about to have a huge career. But slowly and surely Sam is re-staking his claim on my heart. I don’t want to hurt him again.

  “I don’t think so, Mystique. We’re friends, that’s about it.”

  “Well, don’t count it out. Have fun in Charlotte. Call me after the show and tell me how it went.”

  “Okay, ‘bye.”

  Before I can even disconnect the call there is a pounding on my hotel room door. Whoever this is better have a good reason for making all this noise.

  “Sunday, open up. I know you’re in there with your sneaky self.” This is Dreya’s big mouth.

  I open the door, and it’s not just Dreya. Truth, Big D, and Sam are right behind her.

  “Atlanta Spyce posted your interview,” Sam says.

  “Already?”

  Sam replies, “Yeah, we were reading the comments and when I hit refresh, it was there with the title, ‘Breaking News.’”

  “I don’t need you explaining anything for me,” Dreya says. “If Atlanta Spyce wants answers about my life then she needs to come to me and not you.”

  “She didn’t come to me,” I explain. “Mystique went to her. She’s trying to save your career, dummy.”

  “Mystique isn’t trying to save my career. She’s trying to make you look like a goody-goody, so you can help her and her man keep stacking paper. She doesn’t care about me.”

  “Okay, then, Dreya, whatever. I’m tired, and I just want to take a nap in a real bed before we have to get on the tour bus tonight.”

  “Yeah, whatever. You and Mystique need to remember who you’re messing with.”

  I give them a weak hand wave and close my hotel room door. I’m deliriously tired now, after all this drama. I stumble over to my bed and fall in, fully dressed. Right before I close my eyes I think about my cousin again. She better figure out real quickly who has her back and who wants to take her spot.

  23

  I guess Dreya is all fussed out when we get on the tour bus. She and Truth sit huddled up in the back of the bus, and she’s knocked out. Good thing for the rest of us, because we’re all tired of hearing her mouth.

  Dilly plops himself down in the empty seat in front of me. It surprises me a little bit when his face pops up over the back of the seat. Instinctively I check and see where Sam is on the bus. He’s with Big D at the front of the bus, holding a portable keyboard across his lap. They’re probably talking about beats or something.

  “You rock for that shout out you gave me tonight. I could kiss you for that.”

  I laugh out loud. “Okay, but please don’t. I don’t want you to get manhandled on the bus.”

  “By who? Sam? The dude that played you for that skanky girl? The one who was supposed to be your prom date, but then you had to ask me at the last minute? That dude?”

  “When you put it like that he sounds like some kind of dog,” I reply.

  “If it walks like a dog, barks like a dog …”

  I roll my eyes. “Point made.”

  “Anyway, I just want you to know I appreciate what you did. You didn’t have to do that for me. You could’ve just treated me like a stagehand.”

  “It’s not a big deal. I’d do it for anybody.”

  He smiles. “I don’t think you would. I think you did it because you like me.”

  “I do like you, Dilly. You’re a nice guy.”

  He shakes his head. “No. You like me like me. And it’s okay. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to. It can be our little secret.”

  “I don’t like you like that, Dilly.”

  “I’m Romeo, and you’re Juliet.”

  I let out a little giggle, “Boy, hush. I’m going to college; you’re still in high school. How would that even work?”

  “I like cougars.”

  I throw a pillow at Dilly’s face. “Boy, stop.”

  “What’s that? Are we getting pulled over?”

  Bright lights flash behind the bus, and yes, it’s most definitely a police car. It doesn’t feel like we’re speeding, so I wonder what this is about.

  The bus driver pulls over, and a police officer boards the bus. I can’t hear what he’s saying to the driver, but I do see the driver pulling out his license and handing it to the police officer.

  The officer walks down the aisle in the center of the bus, and flashes his light in everyone’s face, although the interior bus lights are already on. Big D and Sam look mad enough to spit, but Bethany, Regina, and Shelly haven’t even woken up from their sleeping.

  When they get to the back of the bus where Dreya and Truth are, there is a commotion. Of course, there’d be a commotion. They’ve awakened the slumbering diva.

  “What y’all doin’ with that flashlight?” Dreya asks groggily.

  “Miss, I’m a police officer. You and your fella need to step out of this seat with your hands up.”

  Big D stands. “With their hands up? What have they done?”

  The police officer spins on Big D. “Settle down. We’ve got an anonymous tip that there are drugs on this bus.”

  “Drugs! I don’t use drugs, so I know you’re not coming for me.”

  “You speak when you’re spoken to.”

  The police officer pulls out a walkie-talkie radio. �
�About to complete a search on the tour bus.”

  Big D starts walking toward the police officer. “You are not authorized to do a search on this bus. Where is your warrant?”

  The police officer waves a sheet of paper in Big D’s face. “Oh, I’ve got a warrant.”

  “What?” Truth fusses.

  “You’re going to have a seat right here where I can watch you, while my fellow officers search every piece of luggage on this bus.”

  Three more police officers board the bus and remove all of our carry-on bags. Then they get the bus driver to open the bottom storage area on the bus.

  It seems like forever that this police officer is hovering over us looking crazy. Then, finally his walkie-talkie goes off in his pocket.

  The voice on the radio says, “We’ve found something. You’re gonna want to come out and look at this.”

  “Nobody move. I’ll be right back,” the officer says.

  Now everyone’s awake as the officer goes off the bus.

  Bethany asks, “What’s going on? Are they gonna let us go?”

  “I don’t know,” Big D says. “That all depends on what they found out there.”

  Finally the police officer comes back on board and holds Truth’s oversize backpack in the air.

  The officer says, “Whose property is this?”

  “Mine,” Truth replies, “but I ain’t got no drugs, man.”

  In one swift, fluid motion the police officer has his handcuffs off his belt and onto Truth’s wrists.

  He says, “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense.”

  “You can’t arrest my boyfriend!” Dreya screams.

  Big D rushes down the aisle. “Wait a minute! What did you find on my tour bus?”

  “Come and see for yourself.”

  The police officer motions for Big D to move aside while he pushes Truth off the bus. Big D steps off the bus behind the officer, and Dreya runs behind him. The rest of us are glued to the bus windows, trying to make out what they’ve found.