Doing My Own Thing

by Nikki Carter

  “Um, my mother didn’t raise me to put my hands on women. I’m sorry about what I did to Dreya. Even though she started it and put her hands on me first, this is not the way I was raised, and I’m so sorry.”

  Aunt Charlie says nothing, but she gives Truth a cold glare. I guess she’s not buying it. My mother decides to step in.

  She says, “We didn’t raise Dreya to put her hands on a man or anybody else. So we’re also disappointed in her, just like we’re disappointed in you.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Truth says.

  “Maybe y’all don’t need to see one another anymore,” my mother continues, “if y’all can’t keep your hands off of one another. We don’t want to see things escalate or for anyone to get seriously injured. You or Dreya.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Y’all both coming into your own with the music. So we think it’s best if y’all put the relationship on hold indefinitely.”

  “But, ma’am, I really do love Dreya.”

  “If you love her,” my mom says, “you will have enough sense to get yourself some help and be mature the next time you try to be her boyfriend.”

  “Yeah, it’s on hold for good,” Aunt Charlie says. “You better be glad my sister is here and she won’t let me give you some of the same medicine you gave my daughter.”

  “No, Charlie. Violence is not the answer,” my mother replies. “Putting your hands on him is not the answer. That’s what got us to where we are now—violence. That’s not where we need to be right now. We need to get y’all to a place where y’all can be prosperous like God is calling you to be.”

  Uh-oh. My mom done brought God into the conversation. She’s about to lay hands on him and pray. I know it.

  “Come here, let me pray for you, boy,” my mom says. I knew it!

  Aw, man. You don’t mess with my mama and her praying! Oh my goodness. Truth is fixing to catch the Holy Ghost up in here.

  My mother lays her hands on Truth’s head and says a prayer for him. She whispers in his ear so that we can’t hear what she’s saying. And do you know this wannabe thug breaks down crying?

  Wait a minute. Dude is like for-real crying . . . boo-hoo crying on my mother’s shoulder. And she’s hugging him like he’s never gotten a hug in his entire life. I actually kind of think that might be true, because his mother is looking super uncomfortable right now. Maybe she’s never given him the love that he needs.

  “Truth, whenever you get the urge to put your hands on someone, I want you to remember the words I just prayed for you,” my mother says.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And Truth, remember, I love you, your mother loves you, and above all Jesus loves you. I believe you have a good heart and I believe you can change.”

  “I don’t believe it. If he puts his hand on you once, he’ll do it again.”

  My mother narrows her eyes into little slits in Aunt Charlie’s direction. “Most of the time, that is true, but I do believe that God can change anybody who wants it. Truth, baby, just let God work on your heart and take all that anger away. You just gotta give it to Him.”

  “All right, Ms. Tolliver. I’ma do that.”

  “Okay, baby.”

  My mother gives Truth’s mother a hug too. Maybe because she’s standing there with tears in her eyes, and my mom just kind of knows when people need a hug.

  I think she needs to turn around and hug Aunt Charlie too, because she’s still mean mugging Truth.

  “Stay away from my daughter,” Aunt Charlie says as Truth and his mother leave the house. “Stay away. From. My. Daughter.”

  9

  My nose crinkles into an irritated frown as Mystique holds up a two-piece bathing suit from her mother, Ms. Layla’s, summer collection. This thing is extra teeny. It looks like three Doritos held together with dental floss. I don’t like, and my mama definitely won’t like. Voting no.

  Dreya is here with me, supposedly for moral support, and because I trust her taste in clothes. Although we have different styles, she knows what I like, and will quickly veto something that looks insane. But I also asked her to come because she’s been in her apartment sulking ever since Truth broke up with her.

  Getting Dreya out of the apartment didn’t stop the sulking, though. She sits slumped in a chair with her air cast extended and crutches on the floor next to her.

  “You don’t think this is cute?” Mystique asks.

  “Maybe if I could see it, I’d think it was cute. I don’t think I’d be comfortable with my behind hanging out, and it most definitely will be in that suit.”

  Ms. Layla tosses her head back and cackles. For some reason, she sounds like the Joker off of the Batman movies. It scares me.

  “You should be happy your body is so beautiful,” Ms. Layla says when her laughing is done. “You won’t have that wonderful figure for long.”

  “I like my figure,” I say. “I just don’t want to show it to the entire world in my video. How about this?” I hold up a much more modest white tankini.

  Dreya bursts into laughter. “Girl, stop. That looks like a chubby-girl suit. You cannot wear that in your video.”

  “I did design that for girls with a little thicker physique than you,” Ms. Layla explains.

  Mystique grabs another bikini from the rack. This one has more material, but it’s still hot. It’s pleather, and the top is a halter with a zipper. The bottom is boy shorts. Hotness!

  “Does this work for you?” Mystique asks.

  “Yes. I likes. But why does it have to be white? I look good in gold or turquoise.”

  “That’s the theme of the video. You’re going to be in all white in every scene. And Dilly will be in different colors until the last scene, when he’s going to wear white too.”

  “Dilly is the love interest in Sunday’s video?” Dreya asks. “Wow, you’re really trying to make Sam mad.”

  “If he gets mad about a video shoot,” Mystique snaps, “then he’s not the boy for her. She’s going to have lots of shoots with lots of hot guys.”

  Dreya chuckles. “I wouldn’t exactly describe Dilly as a hot guy.”

  I think about this for a moment. Even though I’m not digging Dilly in a crush kind of way, his hotness is undeniable. Especially when he starts rapping. He’s got that pretty-boy steez on lock.

  “He’s not hot to you,” I say. “But I think a lot of girls will crush on Dilly when his album finally comes out.”

  Mystique says, “That’s exactly why I think you should play up the love-interest thing on the reality show! That will be hot.”

  I clear my throat and say, “Listen, Mystique, about the whole love-interest thing. I think it’ll be better for me to just be real. I don’t have a boyfriend, because I’m getting my grind on, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that,” Mystique agrees. “But I’m trying to help you sell records.”

  “Why can’t I sell them by being myself? Plus, Sam might not be my boyfriend, but he is my really good friend.”

  Dreya interjects, “And you like him too! Stop trying to act all hard, Sunday. You like him.”

  Wow! Dreya gets on my nerves, but I feel a little smile on my lips. Of course, she’s right, whether I admit it to Sam or not.

  “Okay, Sunday. Don’t play up the crush thing with Dilly. Epsilon Records will be disappointed, but I think I can convince them that you’re doing it for a good reason,” Mystique says.

  “I don’t know how that was gonna work anyway,” Dreya says. “Dilly is dating that backstabbing Bethany.”

  Mystique nods. “Yes, I was going to try to get him to put that on pause for the show. But he and Bethany are talking about doing a song together.”

  Dreya lets out a snort. “She’s is such a jock rider. She just couldn’t let me and Sunday be successful without trying to latch on. I can’t stand her.”

  Okay, I want to change the subject, because I haven’t exactly broken it to Dreya that I’m
working on Bethany’s music. I try to communicate to Mystique with my eyes that we should ixnay the Bethany conversation, but she’s still talking....

  “Actually, she’s got a nice song. I heard one of the tracks that Sunday did and it was hot. She’s got a raspy, soulful sound. You don’t expect it coming from her! It’s like you look at her and think you’re gonna get a Taylor Swift sound, and it’s more Alicia Keys.”

  Dreya narrows her eyes at me. “Sunday . . . for real? Why?”

  How can I even explain this now in a way that makes sense? For me to tell Dreya the truth, I’ll have to admit that I knew Bethany was messing around with Truth on the tour. And that, I think, will be an even bigger betrayal.

  “She asked. . . . I said yes. End of story,” I say curtly.

  Ms. Layla interrupts any additional commentary by Dreya by showing me two white sundresses—both long.

  “I think I’d like to see you in one of these at the end of the video,” Ms. Layla says. “You can wear your hair in a pretty spiral curl updo, with minimal makeup. You’ll be gorgeous.”

  I nod. “I’d wear either of these dresses.”

  Dreya says, “So, I’m trying to figure out how you came to be writing songs for Bethany behind my back. It’s not like y’all are friends, since she dated your ex-boyfriend.”

  “Give it a rest!” I reply. “It doesn’t matter how it came about. Even if me and Bethany aren’t really all that close anymore, we came up together, and the least I could do is write her a song or two.”

  Mystique laughs out loud. “You girls kill me with these loyalty rules! Why does it matter if you came up together? What does that have to do with anything?”

  “It means a lot,” Dreya says. “Don’t you have any home girls from back in the day? Wait . . . do you have any girlfriends at all? I only see you in the tabloids with your mama or Zillionaire.”

  “They’re all I need. Girlfriends get in the way. Most of them were always jealous and hated on my success. Had to cut all of the haters loose.”

  Dreya and I exchange glances. I don’t know what Dreya’s thinking, but I’m feeling like Mystique doesn’t really believe her own hype. She sounds kind of sad about not having any friends besides her mother and fiancé.

  Big D pulls up in front of Ms. Layla’s boutique so abruptly that his tires squeal as he hits the brakes. He jumps out of the car and jogs inside.

  “What’s going on, Darius?” Ms. Layla asks. “You drove up like a bank robber leaving the scene of the crime.”

  Big D takes big gulps of air, as he tries to catch his breath. “I need to talk to Sunday. Outside.”

  Now I’m alarmed. “What’s up? Why can’t you just say it in front of everybody?”

  “I can’t.” Big D shakes his head. “It won’t take long, baby girl. I promise.”

  I’ve never seen Big D look this twisted about anything. “All right.”

  I follow Big D out of Ms. Layla’s boutique. His body language is weird and nervous. He presses a button to unlock his SUV.

  “Hop in, Sunday.”

  I get in on the passenger side, while Big D gets in on his side. He slumps in his seat a little. It’s such a small movement that if I hadn’t been paying attention, I wouldn’t have seen it. But it was a slump, and it looked weary.

  “What in the world is going on, Big D? You look twisted, for real.”

  “Your father came to see me.”

  I can feel my face going into contortions. My father? The man I haven’t seen since my seventh-grade promotion ceremony? What in the world? How does he even know Big D? He doesn’t even know me really, but he knows my producer? Get the heck out of here.

  “My father? You talking about my biological father?”

  Big D nods. “Yeah, Jonah Christopher, your biological. He says that he needs to be in on the decision making for your career.”

  “Is he crazy? There’s no way he’s going to have anything to do with my career! How do you even know him?”

  “That’s the thing. I don’t know him. He knows Bryce and LaKeisha. He was in business with them on some things.”

  “What kinds of things?” I ask, already knowing the answer is something illegal.

  My father has been in and out of jail since I was born. I guess my mom just has a thing for men with that thug quality to them. Not me, though. I see my mother every day, by herself and lonely because of dealing with these dudes. My daddy and Carlos. Although, Carlos was supposed to be different. He was supposed to take care of my mom and me. Now he’s gone too.

  “They’ve got some real-estate thing going, where they buy foreclosed houses at a huge discount, and then resell them or rent them out. Then they take out a loan against the equity in the house and use the money for other investments.”

  “Is it on the up and up?” I ask.

  Big D shrugs and then drums his fingers on the steering wheel like he’s stalling for an answer. “They haven’t been arrested yet.”

  “No arrests have been made. Wow. Did you tell him to kick rocks?”

  “Sunday . . . I told him I’d set up a meeting with the two of you. He really wants to see you.”

  “Why would you do that, Big D? You could’ve asked me first.”

  “You don’t exactly say no when the person asking is carrying a gun.”

  My eyes stretch wide open in surprise. “Did he threaten you? OMG. I don’t believe this.”

  “He didn’t exactly threaten me. He just made it clear that he intended to meet with you whether I wanted it or not.”

  “This dude owes my mother thousands of dollars in back child support! He can’t be a part of my career. My mom is gonna freak out when she hears this.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t tell her,” Big D says.

  “Man, stop playing. I don’t keep important secrets anymore, remember? That was the agreement. I tell my mom anytime anything crazy is popping off.”

  “I wouldn’t necessarily classify this as crazy.”

  Let’s see. My dad, who I haven’t seen in more than five years, pops up and wants to manage my career. AND he’s kicking it with Bryce and LaKeisha, the ones responsible for my mother’s boyfriend getting shot.

  No. That’s not crazy. It’s not crazy at all.

  Blank. Stare.

  10

  “Mom, I’ve got something to tell you, and I think you should sit down.”

  My mother looks at me with narrowed eyes, and puts her hand on her hip. “Sunday, don’t play games with me. What’s going on? Are you pregnant?”

  “What! Where did that come from? Mom, for real. This is important, and no, I’m not pregnant. I don’t have a boyfriend and I’m not having sex.”

  My mother still gives me a suspicious stare-down as she sits on the couch in our living room. I had to wait all day until Aunt Charlie and Manny decided to go to the grocery store. It’s always funny when Aunt Charlie comes home from the grocery store. She shops like a two-year-old. There’s usually hot dogs, bologna, bread, cereal, milk, and soda. That’s all. Not a vegetable in sight. As a matter of fact, I don’t think Manny would know what a fruit or a vegetable was if he wasn’t living over here with us.

  I know, total sidebar. But I’m stalling here. Don’t really know how to tell my mother about my dad showing up. I don’t know how she’s gonna take it.

  “Well, what’s going on, Sunday? I’ve got laundry to finish up, girl! And then I’m going to the movies with your aunt this evening.”

  “Who is keeping Manny? I’ve got to go to the studio for a meeting.”

  “He’s going to have a sleepover with his big sister. A meeting about what?”

  I unleash a big sigh. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry. Go ahead.”

  “My father wants to manage my career.”

  There. I got it out. As crazy as it sounds, I’ve said it. And now, I’m watching my mother’s face contort into some sort of zombie face.

  “Your daddy? You talked to y
our daddy?”

  I shake my head. “He went to Big D, and told him he wants to be a part of the decision-making team on my career.”

  “I don’t believe this. How did Jonah even know to contact Big D?”

  “It has something to do with Bryce and LaKeisha. He’s in some kind of business with them, I guess.”

  My mom lets out a long sigh. “Yeah, I heard he was fooling with them the last time he got out of jail. I was just hoping that he wouldn’t come around us.”

  “Wait. You were hoping he wouldn’t come around? I mean, I know you don’t like him, but I haven’t seen him in a long time. Shoot, pretty soon I’m gonna forget what he looks like.”

  “Sunday . . . your daddy . . . girl . . . you know I’ve never talked bad to you about your daddy.”

  “No, you never have, but I know he goes back and forth to jail. That can’t be good.”

  “He did one good thing for me,” my mother says. “He gave me you. I should’ve known he was gonna show up once your music career took off.”

  “What should I tell him?”

  “Baby, I know you’re used to me having all the answers, but I don’t know what to say on this one. It’s your decision.”

  I swallow hard. “But do you think I should let him help with my career?”

  Long, long pause from my mom. I know that she doesn’t like to say anything bad about my father to me. I get that. She doesn’t want me to be jaded about men and all that. But I need her to help me on this one.

  “I haven’t seen your father for a long time, Sunday. Maybe he’s changed. I don’t know. You judge for yourself after you talk to him.”

  “Why does this all have to be happening right before my trip to Barbados? If this doesn’t turn out right, it might ruin my trip.”

  She says, “I know, honey. But you leave for Barbados in a couple of days, so maybe it will go well and you won’t have anything to worry about.”

  “That’s all you’re gonna say, Mom?”

  “That’s all I’ve got, Sunday. You let me know what you think, okay? We’ll talk about it later.”

  My mom gets up from the couch, walks over to me, and gives me a big hug. I know she’s got my back in this, even if she won’t give her opinion.