by Nikki Carter
“I just want you to know that it doesn’t mean anything, and you’re still the one I’m digging no matter what they put on the show.”
“The BET cameras can only catch things you actually do. Like there’s no way Truth and Bethany can try to say that something was taken out of context when they were hemmed up backstage.”
“That’s true, but on the video shoot, I have to pretend that I like Dilly. I just want you to know the real.”
“That’s real nice of you to do that, Sunday. I feel so special.”
Why the sarcasm? Why the side-eye glances? Does Sam not want this? When did Sam stop wanting to be my boyfriend? It must’ve been like thirty seconds ago, because I swear on the way down here he was trying to turn my invitation into a date.
“Sam, why are you tripping?” I ask.
“Because you keep playing games and I’m just super tired. You act like I’m supposed to get excited because you say you’re digging me, when I know you do, but not more than your cash money.”
“That’s not fair, Sam. I met you chasing my music career. Don’t act like you didn’t know that about me from day one.”
“I did know that about you, but I thought that at some point you’d put that cold chick to rest and be my girlfriend. But I’m the only one getting personal. The cold chick is all bidness, right?”
“I’m not all business.”
“Then why haven’t we gone on more than one real date since the tour? I felt like we really got close, especially when Dilly almost got kidnapped. But we get back home and have one date. I’m sick of sounding like a chump over you.”
“I don’t want to argue, Sam. . . .”
“Then let’s not argue. Let’s just stop going in circles.”
I swallow a huge mouthful of air. Not on purpose, but because I opened my mouth to speak and nothing came out.
Sam’s entire body seems to sigh. “Look, Sunday. I want us to go to Barbados to hang out, have a good time, kick it, and groove to some dance-hall music. But don’t make it seem like it means something. That carrot you keep dangling in front of my nose is rotten, and it’s got mold on it.”
“That’s gross, Sam.”
“Well, that’s all I’ve got right now. You and Dilly are the lyrical wonder twins. I don’t speak in rhymes.”
Sam stands up from our bench in front of the whale tank. He’s just turned the most tranquil and peaceful place in the world into a drama-filled hot mess.
“You ready to go? I’ve still got some packing to do,” Sam says.
I nod because I don’t know what other response to give. I wish I could say that I’m not ready to go, because I really am not. I still feel the need to have the last word in this conversation.
“I’m sorry, Sam. I didn’t mean to take you in circles.”
He nods, but his lips are in a tight grim-looking line. “Well, I’m walking in a straight line now.”
What does this even mean? Does it mean he’s walking away from me? I want us to walk together, but it sounds like he’s got a head start and plans on leaving me in the dust.
Everything’s personal.
14
Everyone meets up at Big D’s so that we can ride to the airport in limos. The BET cameras are here too, because this will begin their footage. Since I see how they like to flip stuff around, I’m going to be extra careful this time. They’re not going to catch me slipping this time around.
All of our bags are piled near the door, and seriously, for us to be going on a four-day trip, there is way too much baggage. Dreya has two big suitcases, a carry-on, and a trunk. I’ve only got two bags, but Mystique really takes the cake. She’s got three big suitcases, and two trunks.
I guess nobody had to tell Mystique to be ready for the cameras. She’s got a full face of makeup on, including fake mink eyelashes. She’s got a new lace-front wig too. Long, blond, and full of curls. She most definitely is picture perfect and ready for her close-up.
I don’t have on a stitch of makeup, and my hair is up in a ponytail. I see our makeup artist Regina, glaring at me from across the room, because she’s been trying to get me to sit down in the chair, but I won’t. I don’t want to be on the plane with my face spray-painted on. I hope the BET viewers like the natural look, because that’s what they’re getting.
I ask, “Mystique, what do you have in those trunks?”
“Shoes.”
“But we’re going to Barbados. . . . Isn’t there going to be mostly sand everywhere?”
Mystique smiles. “Sure, but I’ll probably go clubbing, and I have no idea what I’ll be in the mood to wear. Zac usually takes me dancing.”
“Where is Zac anyway? Is he going to fly down with us?”
“No,” Mystique replies. “He’s in London right now, doing a promotional tour with one of his artists. He’s going to meet us there on Saturday. Then, he and I are staying for an additional week after y’all leave.”
“Must be nice,” I say.
She nods and grins. “Yeah. We need a vacay. It’s the third anniversary of us getting together, so we’re going to celebrate big. I’m going to lie down for a little bit before we leave. I’m utterly fatigued.”
Mystique leaves the room with a little dramatic flourish. It seems like I’m the only one who didn’t come fully prepared for the cameras.
I scan the room to try and guess what everyone’s thinking. Bethany and Dilly are in one corner listening to one iPod. It’s like they’re joined at the wire or something. Sam is being his normal chill self, and Dreya . . . well Dreya is reading a magazine, but she keeps looking up like she’s waiting for something. Maybe she just feels some kind of way about Truth not coming with us, especially since they’re back together now.
I want to say something to Sam, but it’s like walking on eggshells with him right now. I wish he’d kept his thoughts to himself yesterday. Way to put a damper on our trip.
“What’s wrong with you?” Dreya asks as she drops her magazine at her side.
I watch the BET cameraman zoom in like he’s about to get that good-good. No sir. Not today!
“I’m cool, just trying to get my mind right for this video shoot. What was it like when you and Truth shot the video for ‘What You Gonna Do’?”
“Well, we weren’t on an island for our shoot. Just some abandoned warehouse. Nobody plopped down the big bucks for Truth’s video.”
“Okay . . . but what was it like filming the video? Did you have to do a lot of takes?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. Only a couple. The cameraman was only paid for a few hours so we pretty much had to be spot on.”
Dreya is on some other stuff, I see. I don’t know what she’s trying to prove by calling out Epsilon Records on BET. They have done right by her. She’s a new artist, so it’s not like they’re gonna be spending millions of dollars on her videos. Shoot, the only reason we’re going to Barbados is because of the reality show. Dreya knows this too, so her hateration is so unnecessary.
Dreya’s phone buzzes, and she walks outside to answer it. I plop down in one of Big D’s white leather chairs next to Shelly, who’s reading a book. She’s picture perfect too and wearing a white catsuit with a tiny jean half vest, and six-inch heels. Who wears that to the airport?
“Hey, Shelly. What are you reading?”
“A grown-folk book. Nothing you need to be concerned with.”
“Wow . . . okay. Have you been to Barbados before? Is the food good?”
Shelly laughs. “No. I’ve been to Jamaica and to the Bahamas. Not Barbados. What’s with all the questions?”
“I’m excited, I guess! I just want to go. I’ve never even been on a plane before.”
“Seriously?”
I nod. “I haven’t been anywhere, really. So this is gonna be fun.”
I’m trying to convince myself of this, even if I’ve got Sam looking a melancholy mess and Dreya seemingly hell-bent on causing friction.
Big D and Mystique come into the room, and Big
D is holding a big trash bag.
“I thought you were lying down,” I say to Mystique.
She replies, “I was, but this is much more exciting.”
“Guess what this is,” Big D says.
“I have no idea, Big D,” I reply.
“It’s fan mail. Epsilon Records forwarded this over this morning.”
Dreya looks up from her magazine. “Fan mail for us?”
“This bag is all Sunday’s. They’re going to send the rest this week. It’ll be here when we get back from Barbados.”
Mystique digs in and hands me a letter. “Read one!”
“Okay.” I snatch the letter open and read.
“Hi, Sunday. My name is Zoey and I love your music so much. You don’t know how much your single ‘Can U See Me’ has helped me in my life. I was feeling really sad because my boyfriend broke up with me on Facebook. I just logged in one day and his status said that he was single. I was totally devastated. But your song helped me to see that there’s more than one boy in the world and just because my boyfriend didn’t see me for who I am, somebody will. I hope you write me back! Best in all you do! Love, Zoey.”
Dreya gives one single hand clap. “Oh, that is so cute and precious. You’ve got little teenybopper fans.”
“You smell like a hater right now,” Mystique says.
Dreya laughs out loud. “You smell played out.”
Mystique steps to Dreya. “Yeah, I heard what you said about me on the radio yesterday. You better be glad I like Sunday or you wouldn’t have a record deal right now.”
Dreya looks Mystique up and down. “You must be used to scaring everyone around you. It doesn’t work on me, honey. You should really fall back right now.”
The look on the BET producer’s face is so irritating to me right now. He looks like a cat who just lucked up on an abandoned tuna-fish sandwich.
I see that Dreya is determined to make herself the star of my reality show.
“I don’t have to scare anyone,” Mystique replies. “My track record speaks for itself. You can talk to me when you’re at the top. Matter of fact, talk to me when you’re even halfway to the top. Right now, you’re nothing but a one-hit wonder.”
Bethany, who has removed her earbuds to listen to this, says, “Oooo, she told you!”
“Shut up, wannabe,” Dreya says.
“Wanna be who? You? Girl, please. Nobody wants to be you. I’ve got my own sound, and it’s a lot better than that screeching you do!”
Wow, Bethany is tripping! BET said that they wanted to keep this show positive, and then they want to go and cut the monkey. Let’s get ready to rumble.
“You have the sound that Sunday gave you,” Dreya says with a laugh. “So, I guess that means you want to be Sunday.”
Mystique interjects, “Now is good a time as any, I guess, to announce that I just signed Bethany to Mystical Sounds. Sunday and Sam wrote her some slamming music, and I’m impressed. So, Drama . . . you do need to fall back.”
My eyes widen as I make eye contact with Sam. Neither of us knew that this was in the works with Mystique. Not that I mind, but Mystique was kind of down on Bethany before. Now all of a sudden she’s signing her to a deal.
It’s whatever though, as long as I’m getting paid for those songs.
Sam says, “The limo bus is here.”
Everyone piles into the bus, except Mystique. Her personal driver is taking her to the airport in Zac’s Maybach. I guess she’s too special to ride with us chickens.
When I notice Dreya frozen in place, instead of heading to the bus, I say, “Dreya, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m cool. I’m just trying to figure out why everyone keeps helping that tramp Bethany. Mystique didn’t even like her before, but all because you wrote her some songs, now she’s a hot property.”
Dreya says that she’s cool, but she doesn’t sound cool. She sounds mad as the place the devil calls home.
“Did you forget that Bethany has a great voice? That’s why we were all singing together, Dreya. She’s got that husky contralto, and she kind of sounds like Toni Braxton and Norah Jones all wrapped into one.”
“She might have a good voice, but she doesn’t have any stage presence. She’s just an average white chick. Ain’t like she’s got Kim Kardashian’s looks or anything. She’s more like Britney Spears on a bad day.”
See, this is why Dreya will never be on top. She can’t focus on her own stuff because she’s so busy hating on the next chick.
“Why does it matter to you if Bethany gets a record deal? She doesn’t sing anything like what you sing. Y’all will have completely different fan bases.”
Dreya gives me an indignant glare. An “Are you serious?” mean mug.
“Why would I want her to be successful?” Dreya asks. “She lived in my apartment and hooked up with my boyfriend.”
“But he’s supposed to be your ex-boyfriend anyway. So what does that matter?”
“Because you, my mom, or Auntie Shawn don’t tell me what to do. Truth is my current and gonna be my forever, boyfriend.”
“Okay, okay. But can we please get in the limo bus before we miss our flight?”
“Yeah, but know this. I will do whatever I can to make Bethany fail. That is a promise.”
No doubt, I believe her, but Dreya better be careful. Now that Mystique’s signed Bethany to a record deal, Bethany belongs to Mystique. And trying to bring Bethany down will mean putting a dent in Mystique’s wallet.
Somehow . . . I don’t think Dreya will come out on top in a battle with Mystique. And what’s more, I don’t want to be stuck in the middle of it all.
15
Oh heck no. I do not even believe this mess. But I cannot flip out the way I want to, because our BET camera crew is steady filming and waiting for a reaction.
We’re at our gate about to board our flight to Barbados, and guess who runs up to us and into Dreya’s arms?
If you guessed Truth . . . you win. Although, I don’t know what you win. I can’t even think of a prize right now, because I’m so mad.
“Epsilon Records is not paying for him to be on this trip,” Mystique complains. “He is an Epsilon artist, but he is not on the budget for this.”
“Simmer down, Ma,” Truth says. “I’m paying my own way. Ain’t no way I’m sending my baby to Barbados where some island men can behold her beauty and try to hook up with her.”
“I ain’t goin’ nowhere, Daddy,” Dreya says.
Daddy! OMG! I am so mad right now, I could choke. Not only is Aunt Charlie going to break her foot off in my butt (even though I had nothing to do with Truth coming), but now BET is going to be mad that this nearly convicted felon is a part of the show they wanted to keep positive.
Big D says, “Man . . . I thought we talked about this.”
“We did talk about it. You told me Epsilon wasn’t paying for me and I said cool. End of conversation. Why you act like I don’t have my own money?”
“Where are you staying on the island?” Sam asks.
“I got a suite for me and my boo at the Almond Resort, where y’all are staying. She told me Sunday was putting my queen up in a tiny room.”
Okay, now I’m beyond mad. I’m furious. Why do they keep blaming me for stuff that is totally out of my control?
“I didn’t pick the rooms, the travel coordinator at Epsilon Records did,” I reply.
Truth says, “Same thing, but it’s all good because I rectified that situation.”
“Yeah, my Aunt Charlie is gonna rectify your situation when she finds out about this.”
Truth laughs out loud. “Your auntie doesn’t scare me. I took an anger-management class last weekend. I’m all cured.”
“You took one class and you’re cured?” I ask.
“Sunday, stop,” Dreya says. “He’s cool, okay. Stop bringing up the past. I’ve forgiven him for everything, so why can’t everyone else just move on?”
“Yeah, Sunday, I’m cool,” Truth says. Then he
cocks his head to one side and asks, “Did you forget to comb your hair today, Sunday? Didn’t you know you were gonna be on TV?”
One hand goes self-consciously to my ponytail, as I mumble, “Shut up, Truth.”
Then Truth pulls Dreya directly in front of the camera so that he can kiss her. I so want to puke right now.
Dilly, who’s been eerily quiet up until now, pulls me by the shirtsleeve down the airport concourse and toward the Dunkin’ Donuts, which I had been expertly avoiding up until now. There’s no way I’m going to get on that plane without a glazed donut now.
“Sunday, I don’t feel comfortable with him here, and you’re the only one that can make him disappear,” Dilly says.
“How can I make him disappear?” I ask. “If Big D can’t make him go away, I know you don’t think he’s gonna listen to me.”
Dilly narrows his eyes. “Look at her. This is what I’m talking about.”
I guess Bethany thinks no one is paying any attention to her staring Truth down. After an extra-long moment, she looks away with a hurt and pouty expression on her face.
“Maybe she’s just mad because he’s here,” I say.
“Or maybe she’s still digging him. I’ve been thinking that the only reason she stopped messing with him is because you caught her.”
“There may be some logic to that, Dilly, but I think she really likes you now.”
He folds his arms and leans on the wall. “I don’t know, Sunday. What if she only got with me because she didn’t have anybody else? Maybe she’s just an industry chick.”
I bite my lip and chew on this theory for a minute. It is true that Bethany has, in the past, been a one-hundred-percent groupie chick. But that logic doesn’t hold any water in this situation because Dilly hasn’t even come up yet. He’s still on the come up.
“But Dilly, she’s got a record deal now. If she didn’t really like you, she wouldn’t be with you. She doesn’t need you to make it in the industry. She’s already on.”
Dilly looks relieved, as if he hadn’t thought of this small fact. “Thanks, Sunday. I needed that pep talk.”
“No problem, dude. Anytime.”
“So what about you and Sam? He’s not looking like a happy camper right now. Did y’all have a fight?”
