All the Wrong Moves

by Nikki Carter

  The thought of this makes me really nervous. My hands start shaking so bad that Dilly can barely get the microphone wire up my sleeve.

  “Sunday?”

  “It’s just stage fright, Dilly. Wire me up.”

  “Okay.”

  I try to do that breathing thing that Ms. Layla showed me to calm my nerves, but it’s not working. Bethany is walking toward me, and she’s smiling. I’m not in the mood for having a conversation with her, but she definitely looks like she wants to chat.

  Usually, her outfits at the concerts are kind of stank, but she’s just got on a pair of jeans and baby tee this evening. No makeup, no crazy hairdo. Just plain old Bethany. Makes me think of back in the day.

  “Hey, Sunday, you ready to go on?”

  “As ready as I’m gonna be. What’s up?”

  “Would you think I was lame for dating a guy still in high school?”

  I laugh. “Depends on the guy. Who are we talking about?”

  “Dilly and I have really hit it off since we’ve been on tour. He keeps asking me to go out with him, but I don’t know if I should.”

  Bethany and I are having a conversation about boys? I can’t remember the last time this happened without it ending in an argument.

  “I don’t know. Do you really like him or do you just want to holla at him because he’s about to blow up?”

  “What do you think?” she asks indignantly.

  I mean, wow. How does she want me to answer this question? I know how she’s done guys in the past. I remember how she got Romell coldcocked in the hallway at our school. She’s like poison to boys, and Dilly is my friend. Does she really want me to go there?

  When I don’t respond she says, “Why won’t anyone let me change? Why can’t I want to be a better person? Everybody is trying to hold me to my past. It’s not fair.”

  Well, maybe I’d believe it if the past wasn’t just a couple of weeks ago. I just saw her in the closet making out with Truth! Now she wants to claim she’s a better person? I’ve got to see more than a change in her outfit.

  “Listen. Dilly is my friend. He’s a nice person. He doesn’t need you messing over him. So if you’re not really changing for real, just leave him alone.”

  “Wow. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “I’m just being real.”

  Ms. Layla and Dreya stop right behind us, and they’re in the middle of a low-key argument. Ms. Layla apparently tried to walk away and roll the rack of clothes with her, but Dreya is in hot pursuit.

  “I want to wear red!” Dreya says. “Something like what you made Mystique. That gold sheer bodysuit. I want one of those in red.”

  “I’m not designing any more clothes for this tour.”

  Dreya whines, “But the next show is in New York City! It’s got to be fire, so I’ve got to wear red!”

  Ms. Layla gives her an exasperated glare. “Okay, I’ll come up with something, but please go and get dressed! Regina still has to do your hair and makeup.”

  Dreya smiles as Ms. Layla walks away dragging the clothes rack behind her. Then, she turns and faces me and Bethany.

  “What do you have on, Bethany? You look regular.”

  Bethany grins. “Yep, regular is the look I was going for.”

  “Not a good look, boo. We’re on the Epsilon Records tour. You need to do something to your hair and put on something sexy. This is on TV.”

  “Nah, I’m good. I’m not in the mood for all that tonight.”

  Dreya frowns. “Okay, you’re my assistant, and you can’t be going around looking like you’re about to go to the library to do a book report. Change into something hotter.”

  “No.”

  “Are you telling me no? Do you not realize that you work for me?” Dreya asks. She walks up to Bethany and sticks a finger in her chest. “Now. Change. Your. Clothes.”

  Bethany knocks Dreya’s hand away. “Actually, I don’t work for you. I work for Epsilon Records. I told Mystique about how you’ve been treating me, and she told me that I could be a roadie or Sunday’s assistant if I want to.”

  “Sunday’s assistant? If that’s what you want, then whatever. Go for it. You think she’s gonna get you a record deal, don’t you? You so thirsty it don’t make no sense.”

  “I don’t care what you say, Dreya. Your words don’t hurt me at all.”

  “It’s Drama to you. Only my family calls me by my real name.”

  Dreya strides away, but I can tell she’s hurt by Bethany’s decision. And I can tell that Bethany is hurt too, by Dreya’s saying that she’s not family. I can’t worry about how to fix their issues, though.

  I’ve got issues of my own. And, oh. I’ve got a show to do.

  I asked them to change the lineup of my songs for this show. I like to start with “Can U See Me.” It’s my favorite song off the album.

  “What’s up, Philly?”

  The almost sellout crowd hollers back at me.

  “How y’all doin’ tonight? Can y’all see me from the back row?”

  I get a flurry of shouts from the back row.

  I chuckle.” ‘Cause I really, really want y’all to see me.”

  And the beat drops for my song. It really makes me feel good when the crowd sings my hook with me. It’s surreal that all these people can know and love a song that I wrote. It’s helping me to push all the other drama I’ve got going on to the back of my mind.

  “When I say ‘Can you,’ you say ’See me’! Can you?”

  “SEE ME!”

  “Can you?”

  “SEE ME!”

  I take a deep breath and smile at my fans. It’s a good thing they can’t really see my face from their seats. They’d wonder why I’ve got tears streaming down my face.

  30

  On our bus ride from Philadelphia to New York City, everyone is excited. Everyone except me. I can’t shake this feeling of doom and gloom, this feeling that Carlos’s cousins are lying and that they really might be planning to hurt Dilly. I mean, Bryce shot Carlos a bunch of times. Carlos could’ve died! And I’m supposed to believe that they aren’t going to hurt Dilly?

  If only my mother were here with me on the tour instead of Aunt Charlie. But there was no way my mother was going to use her vacation time to go on a tour.

  When I inhale deeply and burn my nose hairs with cigarette smoke, I fuss at Aunt Charlie. “Can you put that out please? How are we supposed to get on stage and sing with smoke inhalation poisoning?”

  “Girl, please. You been inhaling cigarette smoke since you was a baby. It ain’t hurt you one bit. You been hanging around that organic, earth girl Mystique, and all of a sudden you can’t tolerate a little secondhand smoke. Girl, ‘bye!”

  “How can you be okay with making us prone to having lung cancer? You are tripping!”

  Aunt Charlie opens her window and blows the smoke out. “Is that better?”

  “A little, but not much.”

  When Aunt Charlie sees that nobody is backing her up, she puts the cigarette all the way out in her portable ashtray. “Y’all some funny acting little divas. You and your cousin both.”

  Dreya fusses from her seat in the middle of the bus. “Um, don’t be adding me to y’all little fight. I ain’t got nothing to do with all that.”

  I notice how Bethany and Dilly have been hugged up and quiet in their seat near the back of the bus. They’ve been whispering and giggling and cuddling all the way up here. I’ve already said what I need to say about that, but it’s still bothering me a little bit.

  Finally, we make it to New York, Brooklyn actually. And we’re not staying in a hotel; we’re staying at Zac and Mystique’s twenty thousand square foot loft. The crew is staying at a hotel, but Zac wanted to show his hospitality and have us all crash at his place.

  The bus drops us off, and all of Zac’s staff comes running out to take our bags inside. Most of his staff looks African or like they’re from the islands. I love that because it reminds me of my mother’s cousins in Ba
rbados. We haven’t been there in forever, not since I was a little girl, but I remember how they spoke and how we laughed and ate jerk chicken, peas, and rice. I’m trying to remember something pleasant right now, so I dwell on them for a minute.

  Right before we go into the house, I notice a Latino man, wearing sunglasses and a jean jacket, standing a few feet from the house. He’s leaning on a tree and watching us while smoking a cigarette. I feel my heart start beating really fast, because he looks just like Carlos, only a little thicker.

  Big D taps me on the shoulder. “Sunday, is everything all right? You’re acting strange. You’re really jumpy, and you’re fussing at everybody. That’s not like you.”

  “I’m cool, Big D. I’m just ready for this tour to be over. I think I’m tired.”

  Big D looks up and down the street as if he’s watching too. Has he heard something? Has Carlos contacted him too?

  When I look back over my shoulder for the Carlos look-alike, he’s gone.

  “Let’s go inside, Sunday. Zac’s having a party later at his club, and we’re all invited. Maybe you should get some rest before we go.”

  I nod in agreement. “Yeah, I definitely need some rest. The concert tomorrow night is gonna drain the heck out of me too.”

  Not just the concert. But the doom and gloom. The dark and twisty. I wish I could just fast-forward past this series of unfortunate events. First I needed a go back in time machine, and now I need a fast-forward button.

  Big D and I go inside the penthouse suite. It’s fantasti cally decorated with cream colored furniture and marble floors. The ceilings are high, and there are two skylights spilling sunshine into the wide open space.

  Zac is on his cell phone and walking through his castle looking like the man in charge. He claps Big D on his back.

  “Deionte! Good seeing you. You too, Sunday!” He kisses me on my cheek like we’re old friends.

  Then he talks into the phone. “Yeah. I want double security tonight at the club. Yeah. Big ugly lookin’ dudes at the door. Yes, I want them armed. Don’t send me no street dudes with guns. I want licensed security professionals … Yeah … but big and ugly.”

  He presses End on his phone and smiles at us. “Got to keep my artists safe, right?”

  “Y’all expecting trouble tonight?” Big D asks.

  “It’s a holiday weekend, so yeah, we kind of are. Things can get kinda crazy here on the Fourth of July.”

  Mystique comes from the kitchen wearing an apron and holding a tray of cookies.

  “Y’all want some chocolate chip cookies? The chef is at the club preparing for tonight, and this is all I know how to make.”

  Aunt Charlie jumps up and takes one of the cookies. “Thanks, sweetie. Nobody expects you to know how to cook. You’re pretty enough that you really don’t have to.”

  “Thank you, I think,” Mystique says. “Have a cookie, Sunday?”

  I shake my head. “No. They look good, but my stom- ach is upset. I’ve not been feeling well since we left Philadelphia.”

  “Do you have bubble guts from the cheesesteak?” Sam asks.

  Everyone bursts into laughter. I roll my eyes and smirk at them all. “Hahahaha. No I don’t have bubble guts. I think it’s nerves. My stomach feels like a ball of knots.”

  Ms. Layla emerges from the kitchen area. “You sound like you need an aromatherapy cleanse.”

  “A who? A what?”

  “You need to lie down flat on a hard surface with hot rocks at pressure points, while lavender lulls you to sleep.”

  As kooky as Ms. Layla is, that sounds pretty inviting.

  “Where would I get that done? It sounds like what I need,” I reply.

  Aunt Charlie rolls her eyes, and snaps up another cookie. “You don’t need that. You need to take your behind to the toilet and then take a nap.”

  Why does Aunt Charlie think the cure to every ailment is to “go to the toilet”?

  “Come on, Sunday,” Ms. Layla says. “We have a spa in the house, and Mystique’s massage therapist is one of the best. Does anyone else want a service?”

  Sam clears his throat. “Um … yeah, I kinda do. Is that okay?”

  Ms. Layla claps her hands together. “Yes, of course! I love when men are in tune with their bodies.”

  She ushers Sam and I to an area of the house that rivals any day spa I’ve ever seen. There’s some kind of instrumental music playing, and the lights are dim. There are canopies of material billowing down from the ceiling, giving the whole area a calming feel.

  This is soooo what I need right now.

  Ms. Layla says, “There are two mineral water showers in the back. I want you both to shower and change into the robes.”

  “This is tricked out!” Sam whispers to me. “I’m trying to live like this!”

  Sam and I separate and go to the mineral water showers. As I step into the warm water, I try to relax. I try to tell my stomach that everything will be okay. That Dilly will be fine and that nobody will be coming after my mama.

  I do feel a little bit better that Zac is getting extra security for the party at the club.

  When I finish my shower, there is a petite brown girl standing outside the shower room.

  “Hello, Miss Sunday. My name is Neechie. Would you like a massage?”

  I nod. “I think I need one.”

  Neechie leads me to a room only a little bit bigger than a closet. There’s a table in the middle of the floor, and the lights are dimmed.

  Neechie holds up two vials of oil. “Close your eyes. When I tap your shoulder I want you to inhale deeply.”

  She taps my shoulder once, and I smell something that reminds me of peppermint tea and gingersnaps. The second scent smells like oranges.

  “Which do you like better?”

  “The first one.”

  She tells me to open my eyes, then taps on the table and motions for me to lie down. Once I’m situated, she places hot rocks on my back and down the backs of my legs.

  I let Neechie rub stress out of my body. Even though the stress is not gone, and the fear is not gone either, her healing hands are making it all a dull roar in the back of my mind. At least for the moment anyway.

  As soon as we step in Zac’s club, it’ll all come rushing back.

  31

  Before we leave for the club, I make a call to my mother. I feel like whatever is going down, is going down tonight, and even though I can’t tell her all of the details, she needs to get the heck up out of Dodge.

  “Hi, Mommy,” I say in my little girl voice.

  “Hey, baby. You’re almost done, right? The last show is tomorrow night?”

  “Yes. I can’t wait to come home and sleep in my own bed.”

  My mother laughs out loud. “You sure about that? Manny’s been sneaking in your room at night.”

  “Aw, man! Mommy, can you wash my stuff before I get home?”

  “Of course, baby. I’m just teasing you anyway. I’m looking forward to you being home.”

  “What are you doing tonight, Mommy? Aunt Charlie isn’t there, so I know you plan on sitting in the house.”

  “What? How do you know I’m not going out on a date?”

  “Stop playing. You already got a man.”

  “He’s not here. So does that even count?”

  I’ve never heard my mom talking this way about Carlos. She sounds hopeless, like she doesn’t think they’ll ever be together again. That makes me sad. They belong together, and he’s supposed to be my stepdad. I can’t stand Bryce and his goons for messing up my family.

  “It does count, Mommy. Don’t say that. Y’all will be back together again, real soon, I think.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Just a feeling I have. That’s all. Plus, I really miss having him around too, so you know …”

  “That’s all right. I miss having him around too.”

  “So, Mommy, do you think you and Manny could go over to Sister Helen’s house tonight and hang out?�
�

  She laughs out loud. “Sister Helen? I haven’t been over there in ages. She’d probably talk me to death. I’d be over there all night.”

  “That’s what I know. I want you to be over there all night.”

  There’s a long silence on the phone, like my mother’s trying to read between my words to see if there’s anything there. Yes! I want to yell. There’s something there!

  “Sunday, is everything all right?” my mother asks slowly and deliberately.

  “Yes, Mommy. I just want you to go somewhere other than home tonight. Please do that for me, okay?”

  “Okay, Sunday. I’m going to do this, even though you won’t give me an explanation. I’m going to trust that you’re asking me to do this for a reason.”

  “Thank you, Mommy. If there was something that I could tell you, then I would. But there’s nothing that I can tell you.”

  “Sunday, you’re scaring me.”

  “Don’t be afraid!” I try to make my voice sound peppy. “I just want you to have some fun. You don’t do that enough.”

  “Mmm-hmm … I’m praying for you, baby. You hear that. No harm or danger is going to come to you. I declare it, and I decree it in the name of Jesus.”

  “Thank you, Mommy.”

  “Sunday, I don’t know what’s bothering you, but I want you to believe that prayer. You hear me?”

  “Yes, Mommy.”

  “All right. I’m going over Sister Helen’s house. I think we are overdue for a visit. She’d like to see Manny too.”

  “Okay, I’ll call you later.”

  “‘Bye, baby.”

  I press End on my phone, and I feel a little bit better. Neither my mom nor Manny are going to be in the house if anything goes down with Dilly. And no one knows where Sister Helen lives. My mother barely goes over there, so it isn’t somewhere anyone would go to look for her.

  Now to make sure Dilly doesn’t get snatched.

  32

  We’re treated like royalty when we step into Zac’s club. I guess we are like the royal court because we are up in the club with the king and queen of the spot—Mystique and Zac.

  We can barely get in good without the screaming fans asking for autographs. Zac smiles and waves, but doesn’t stop. Mystique does sign a few autographs, with Benji standing guard.