by Nikki Carter
Bethany frowns and rolls her eyes at Dreya. I know what she’s thinking, because I’m pretty much thinking the same thing. She owes all of this to Daddy’s Little Girls, including having Truth as a boyfriend and the record deal.
“I can’t believe you’re trying to trip and leave Daddy’s Little Girls in the dust. Don’t you remember how you even met Truth?” I ask Dreya.
“Yeah, and…?”
We were in a local talent search and Truth was one of the judges. Even though I was singing lead, Dreya’s dropping down and sweeping the floor with it was what got us second prize. We got to meet Truth as part of our prize, and he started digging her.
Truth chuckles. “Yeah, I remember that, Sunday. You were singing your butt off, wasn’t you, ma?”
“Yeah, I was, and so was Bethany. Dreya did a lot of dancing, though.”
“I was singing, too,” Dreya argues. “And I’m the reason why we won! I got the crowd pumped.”
I say, “That might be true, but you wouldn’t have been in the show if it wasn’t for our group. Now you trying to dis us?”
I can feel my attitude rising up for real now. It’s making this macaroni and cheese bubble up in my stomach. Maybe I’m just stressed about my college fund going up in smoke. Or maybe I’m tripping because this should be my big break and not old, ungrateful Dreya’s.
“It’s just the business,” Big D replies. “Sometimes you make it as a group, and sometimes one person has to get on and bring everybody else on later. It’s still love, though.”
“Right,” Dreya says. “It’s still love. Someday, I’ma be able to help y’all blow up, too.”
Is it just me, or is Dreya getting ahead of herself? She hasn’t even signed the record deal yet, but now she’s gonna help me and Bethany blow up? Really?
“Come on, Ms. Drama,” Big D says. “We’ve got an album to finish recording.”
“I think my voice needs a rest, Big D. My throat hurts. Can we finish tomorrow?”
“Shelly!” Big D calls down the stairs. “Can you fix Dreya some tea? We need her to belt out one more song tonight. I’ve got a meeting with Epsilon’s head A&R rep in the morning.”
Shelly sashays up the stairs slowly. She sure likes to keep her store-bought body on display. She’s wearing leggings that I’m pretty sure were meant to go under something, but she’s paired them with a tiny baby tee that leaves nothing to the imagination.
“Okay, baby,” Shelly replies. “What kind of tea you like, Dreya? We’ve got peppermint and peach.”
Dreya frowns. “Neither one of them sounds good.”
Shelly lifts an eyebrow and gives Dreya a blank stare. “Big D says you’re drinking tea, so I suggest you pick one.”
Sufficiently checked, Dreya replies in a tiny voice, “Peach.”
“Come on back downstairs while Shelly hooks that up,” Big D says. “I want you to listen to what you’ve laid down so far and think about where you wanna put in some runs.”
“Make sure she doesn’t go flat when she does a run,” I say to Big D. “She does that a lot. The entire run will be sweet until the last note.”
Big D turns his attention back to Dreya. “Give me a run.”
Dreya closes her eyes and sings the alphabet song. Yeah, A, B, C, D, etc. We had this version of it that we used to harmonize on for warm-ups. Dreya goes up a few notes and hits a run on the way down and the end of it is a mess.
“See what I mean?” I ask.
“Shut up, Sunday,” Dreya says.
“Let me hear you do it, Sunday,” Big D says. “I’ve got an idea.”
I do the same melody as Dreya, but I choose a different point in the tune to do my run. Of course it’s flawless. What can I say? Singing comes naturally to me.
Big D looks like the wheels in his brain are turning. “I take back what I said about y’all singing on Dreya’s album.”
“You’re gonna let us sing backup?” Bethany squeals.
“No, but I’m gonna have Sam do his studio magic and layer Sunday’s vocals under Dreya’s. You think it’ll work, Sam?”
Sam nods. “They have very similar-sounding voices, but Sunday will have to pull back a little bit. Her vocals are too strong; they’ll overpower Dreya’s. Then everyone will trip if they hear Dreya singing live and she doesn’t sound anything like the recording.”
“Her voice won’t hardly overpower mine. You don’t know what you’re talking about, Sam!” Dreya fusses.
Sam is silent now. He pops his last bite of food into his mouth and sets his plate down on the table.
“Well, nobody really expects an artist to sound the same live as they do on the recording,” Bethany says in a very small, quiet voice.
Big D replies, “Exactly. So, Sam, make it do what it do. Get Sunday in the sound booth.”
“Is anybody gonna ask me how I feel about this?” I ask.
“What’s not to like?” Big D asks. “But I know what you’re thinking.”
“You do?”
“Yes, you’re thinking that you need some additional compensation to do the background vocals.”
I give Big D a tiny smile. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
9
“You rocked those background vocals, Sunday. If Dreya gets a record deal, she’ll have you to thank,” Sam says.
He’s driving me home from the studio. It would’ve been me and Bethany, but she got heated about me singing on the CD and her vocals not being required. She called some dude from school to come and pick her up, and left while I was still recording.
“Thanks. It blows that she’s gonna get a record deal, though, while I’m still on the come-up.”
“Yeah, but who knows? Yours could be coming sooner than you think.”
“What makes you think that?” I ask.
“Got a feeling, I guess.”
I think about going home and hearing about the latest update on Carlos, and get bummed all over again. A lot of good Sam’s feeling is gonna do me when it’s time to pay my tuition at Spelman. The thought of community college or no college at all makes me let out a long sigh.
“What you thinkin’ about?” Sam asks.
“Nothing.”
I’m not ready to have Sam all up in my business yet, no matter how cool he seems. He already knows too much, from the one time he dropped me off.
“Okay, I get it. I don’t know you like that to get all up in your mix, right?”
“Pretty much.”
“So what if I say I want to get to know you better?” he asks.
“You are getting to know me better. You definitely know more about me today than you knew on the first day we met.”
Sam laughs out loud. “Do you always make guys work this hard, or are you just giving that to me?”
“My mama told me that you appreciate something more if you have to work for it.”
Sam smiles but doesn’t reply. He keeps his eyes on the road as he slows on the freeway and takes my exit on I-20.
I say, “That was a good idea you had about Dreya having a stage name.”
“Yeah, her real name isn’t all that memorable.”
“But no one will forget a singer named Drama,” I concur.
“And soon people will be singing her songs. Or should I say our songs?”
“I’d like it better if you said our songs.”
Sam lifts his eyebrows and smiles. “Okay, our songs then. Do you want me to walk you in?”
I peer out the window, and everything looks pretty calm at my house. No police cars or any other evidence of drama, but still I don’t think it’s a good idea to have Sam walk me in. There’s no telling what Aunt Charlie is wearing! And, of course, whatever crazy ensemble she’s sporting is gonna be on display for everyone to see, from her post on the living room couch.
“You don’t have to walk me in, Sam. I’m a big girl.”
He laughs. “Still playing hard.”
“’Bye, Sam. Will you need me at the studio tomorrow?”
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“No, I don’t think so. The recording is complete, but I’ll have to mix and master everything.”
I have no idea what mix and master means, but I suspect it’s something technical that they do to make everything sound extra hot.
Sam puts his car in park, like he’s in no hurry to leave, even though I’ve opened the door on my side. I surprise myself by wondering when I’m going to see Sam again after tonight, since I won’t have to go to the studio anytime soon.
“Are you sure you don’t want to kick it with me?” Sam asks.
“Kick it with you where?”
“Dinner and a movie? Bowling? Shoot, I don’t know.”
“You don’t know.”
Sam sighs. “I just know I wanna spend some time with you.”
“I’ll think about it. Just don’t lose my number.”
“All right, toughie, I won’t.”
I get out of the car and start up the driveway, but not without checking over my shoulder to see if Sam is watching. He is.
As soon as I open the door to our house, I can tell that something is not right. My mother is putting on her coat, and Aunt Charlie is pacing the floor.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“It’s Carlos,” my mother says. “He’s disappeared from the hospital. The police want me to come down there….”
“Disappeared? I thought he was unconscious or something! How has he disappeared?” I ask.
“I don’t know, and the police don’t, either. His mother and sister are not talking, so I think they might know where he is or have something to do with it.”
I cover my mouth with my hand. “Do you think he’s hiding out somewhere?”
“I don’t know,” my mother says as tears rush down her face. “Maybe he is, or maybe those thugs from the club came to finish off the job.”
My mom rushes out the door, but Aunt Charlie keeps pacing the floor. She and Carlos weren’t all that tight, so I don’t understand why she’s so worried.
“Aunt Charlie, Carlos is gonna be okay.”
She gives me a strange look and asks, “Sunday, where is Dreya? I been calling her cell phone and she’s not picking up.”
“She didn’t tell you where she was going?” I ask. “She’s at the studio, I guess. She’s probably staying there.”
Aunt Charlie cocks her head to one side as if she’s pondering what I’m saying. “What do you mean, she’s staying there? She don’t think she’s got to come home?”
“I don’t know what she thinks,” I say with a shrug. “I just left her, and she didn’t seem in a hurry.”
“Call her for me on your phone,” Aunt Charlie says.
“Unh-uh. This is between y’all. If she won’t answer her phone…”
Aunt Charlie jumps up so fast, she looks like a blur. Next thing I know she’s in my face, and I can literally taste the smoke she blows out of her nose. Ugh.
“I ain’t playing with you, Sunday. Call your cousin.”
I roll my eyes at Aunt Charlie as I punch in Dreya’s number. I hold the phone up to my face as it rings, but as soon as I get the first syllable of “hello” out of my mouth, Aunt Charlie snatches my phone.
“Dreya, where are you?” Aunt Charlie asks.
“What do you mean, you ain’t coming home?” Aunt Charlie screams into my phone.
I’m gonna need a wet wipe and some hand sanitizer to get all her spit, cigarette ashes, and bacteria off my phone.
“I don’t care about no record deal, and I ain’t heard of nobody named Big D. I’m gonna send the police after your behind.”
I plop down in my mother’s beanbag chair to wait for my phone. I knew I shouldn’t have let Aunt Charlie use my phone to call Dreya. This might take all night.
“She hung up on me,” Aunt Charlie says with a look of surprise on her face.
“Can I have my phone back now?”
Aunt Charlie tosses the phone over to me. “What is she talking about—a record deal, Sunday? Is this legit? Has she signed anything yet?”
“Big D seems legit to me. Truth’s record is about to come out next month.”
“This is your fault, Sunday. All that singing group mess, and now my daughter is living with some man, talking about a record deal.”
“How is it my fault? I’m not living over some dude’s house. You trippin’, Aunt Charlie.”
I pull myself up from the beanbag chair and stomp all the way to my bedroom. Me storming off to my room is getting to be a regular thing.
I lie across my bed and open my backpack. Dreya might’ve quit school for her record deal, but I’ve still got homework. Ugh, calculus. This is the one subject I could’ve bypassed because, for real, how many entertainment lawyers have to know anything about derivatives and differential equations?
When I’m about halfway through the exercises, my phone rings. I hesitate before answering because it’s Romell’s ringtone. I don’t know if I feel like verbally sparring with him right now. And why does he even still have his own ringtone? I need to dead that, for real.
“What’s up, Romell?” I ask, wanting him to get right into the conversation.
“How you been, Sunday? You haven’t called or texted me in a minute.”
“We broke up, remember?”
“Yeah, I thought we were gonna get back together, though.”
Something about this conversation doesn’t sound right. First of all, we have never talked about getting back together. Second, Romell is never this nice. I can’t ever remember him just calling to ask how I’m doing. He does not roll like that.
“Romell, what’s up? I’m doing some homework, so could you hurry up and get to the point?”
“Why you gotta be like that?”
I let out a loud sigh. “What is it, Romell?”
“I just heard your cousin singing on the Internet,” he says.
“Seriously? What’s the name of the song?” I ask, hoping that it’s none of my stuff that’s leaked.
“She’s just singing the hook. It’s some new rapper dude. ‘What Ya Gonna Do,’ or something like that.”
“Wow, for real? Did you like the song?”
“It was fiyah!” Romell says. “Dreya’s ’bout to blow up.”
“How do you know it’s her?”
“Somebody posted the link on Facebook and said it was her.”
“What Web site is it on?”
“Mediatakeout.com.”
“Thanks. Lemme call you back, okay?”
After I press End on my phone, I boot up my slow, raggedy desktop computer and hope I can get a good Internet connection. While I’m waiting for it to come on, I dial Sam’s number.
“Hey, Sunday. I didn’t think you’d miss me this soon.”
I crack up laughing. “Sam, you are silly. I don’t miss you, boy.”
“Sure you don’t. What’s up?”
“This boy from school called and told me that he heard Dreya singing on the Internet.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You know and you didn’t tell me? That’s my work out there on the Internet being listened to for free!”
“Calm down, calm down. Big D leaked the track himself—it’s cool.”
Okay, now I’m confused.
“Why would Big D leak his own track?” I ask.
“Publicity. Nobody really knew who Truth was, outside of Atlanta and a few underground circuits in New York. Now teenagers all over the country are bobbing their heads to your hook, girl. You should be happy!”
“I should be happy?”
“Yeah, toughie. Your cousin’s life is about to change.”
Everybody keeps telling me about Dreya’s life changing. Well, mine has been changing, too, and not all for the better. How can I get excited about kids loving the track when nobody even knows that I wrote it?
Sam asks, “You okay, Sunday? You don’t sound pumped about all this.”
“I guess I’m still trying to get used to the idea of Dreya’s name being up in
lights.”
“I’ve got a feeling yours will be, too.”
“I don’t even care about all that. I just want to go to college like a normal teenager.”
Sam laughs out loud. “Normal? After Drama’s album comes out, our lives will never be normal again.”
10
Dreya decides to show up at school the day after the track leaks. Me and Bethany are standing next to my locker and watching Dreya’s Academy Award–worthy performance. She’s even carrying a leather backpack! I wonder what’s in there, because we all know it’s not books. Usually it’s clothes for when she spends the night over at her boyfriend’s house. But since she lives over at Big D’s now, that’s not necessary.
She struts up the hallway and leans against the lockers across from us as if she’s waiting for the paparazzi to come and the cameras to start flashing. She’s got the diva pose down pat, too. Utter hilarity. I wonder if she watched a bunch of Rihanna footage for her diva education.
My ex-boo, Romell, is the main one heading up the Dreya fan club. I kind of find that hard to believe, since he’s never been checking for Dreya before, but I guess a hot track can change a lot of things. In my eyes, his Dreya-jocking takes his swagger levels into the negative numbers.
Romell and a small crowd of people surround Dreya. Of course, Bethany and I want to hear what she’s gonna say, so we’ve got to join the crowd. I don’t like feeling like one of Dreya’s groupies, especially since Sam and I wrote all her songs.
“So, Dreya, you got a record deal?” Romell asks.
“My lawyers told me that I’m not allowed to talk about it,” she replies.
Bethany covers her mouth and chuckles. “What lawyers?” she whispers to me.
“Girl, I don’t know.”
“And does she even have the record deal yet?”
I shrug. “Last I heard, Big D was trying to make it happen. Maybe something’s changed since yesterday.”
“Do you think she’s gonna tell anyone that you wrote that hook?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “We’re talking about Dreya, Bethany. You and I both know she’s not giving me credit for anything.”
Why are people turned around looking at me and Bethany like we’re being rude? It’s not like Dreya’s saying anything important. She’s not a celebrity yet! And even if she does reach celeb status, it’s not going to make her mindless ramblings any smarter.
