Doing My Own Thing

by Nikki Carter

  I guess since I offered Dilly relationship advice, he thinks it’s okay to get all up in my Kool-Aid and he doesn’t even know the flavor (yeah, I know that’s old school, but it fit). Sam does look twisted: slouched down in an airport chair, iPod on with earbuds in, and rocking back and forth to a beat that no one else can hear.

  “Sam and I are fine. He’s just getting his game face on,” I explain.

  But Sam and I are not fine, and I keep trying to think of a way to get us there. I dismiss Dilly and order two glazed doughnuts from Dunkin’ Donuts.

  Once I have the tasty treats in my hand, I bustle past the canoodling Trauma (my nickname for Truth + Drama) and plop down next to Sam. He keeps bobbing his head, but turns to look at me. Without cracking a smile or anything, he looks forward again, never missing a beat.

  I tap him on the arm. “Sam!”

  Slowly, he removes his earbuds. He takes a deep breath, exhales it, and then finally turns to me again. “Yeah, Sunday?”

  “I thought you might want one.” I hand him the Dunkin’ Donuts bag.

  He looks down at it as if it’s some kind of poison and then hands it back to me. “I’m cool. Thanks anyway.”

  “Well, I’ll just stay here and keep you company then, if you don’t mind.”

  Sam chuckles. “Don’t you have some gold coins to count, Scrooge McSunday?”

  “Cute. And no, I just want to sit here and sweat you.”

  Now Sam’s chuckle turns into a full-fledged laugh. “Stop playing, Sunday. You don’t sweat anybody, unless they smell like new dollar bills.”

  “That is my favorite cologne, Sam. I’m glad you recognize. But, I also enjoy the Burberry you’re rocking right now.”

  “Is this reality TV?” Sam asks. “Because it feels so scripted. You’re trying too hard, Sunday.”

  I nod and swallow back the sarcastic answer that I want to give. Because one, I kinda deserve it, and two, I’m not ready for Sam to walk the straight line up outta my life.

  “Sam, do you think I didn’t hear what you said yesterday?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. . . .”

  “Well, I did. I get it. The carrot is old and moldy, and the circles are played out. Got it.”

  Sam lifts one eyebrow. “So, what is this?”

  “This is me trying to holla at you.”

  “Is it for the cameras or is it for real?” Sam whispers.

  I whisper back. “I don’t do anything for the cameras. Forget them cameras. I’m only thinking about you right now.”

  Sam’s caramel-colored cheeks redden. “I want to believe you, but . . .”

  “But what?”

  “But, I’ve gotten my hopes up before, and I’ve been the one looking foolish.”

  A tired sigh comes from my body. “I know, Sam. Can you just trust me this time?”

  Sam shakes his head. “I wish I could, Sunday, but I can’t.”

  I sit back in the chair and take a bite of the doughnut that Sam wouldn’t accept. He puts his earbuds back in, leans forward with his elbows on his knees, and starts bobbing his head again.

  Have I really given Sam the run-around so many times that he can’t trust me at all?

  I think back on the first time Sam and I were in the studio and how we vibed from the very beginning. But maybe that’s not enough. Maybe we met too soon—like maybe ten years from now would’ve been better.

  Because it seems like now, there have been too many feelings hurt. Too many egos have been bruised.

  A voice comes over the loudspeaker. “Now boarding American Airlines flight nine seven one to Miami, Florida. We are now boarding first-class passengers, and passengers with small children.”

  I stand to my feet and grab my carry-on bag. I’m flying first class with Mystique, Big D, and Shelly, but everyone else, including Dreya, is flying coach.

  “Where are you going?” Dreya asks. “You traveling with a small child or something?”

  “Ha ha ha, Dreya. You know what it is. Don’t front.”

  Her face turns dark. “This is some mess.”

  “Don’t worry about it, babe,” Truth says. “You know what we’ve got to do.”

  She nods. “You’re right, baby. I’m sticking to the plan.”

  Plan? Oh boy, this should be good. I just can’t wait to see what they come up with!

  If that sounded sarcastic, it was entirely on purpose.

  16

  A nudge in the ribs from Mystique awakens me from a very deep and satisfying sleep. Well, as deep and satisfying as one can get on an airplane. I don’t think my first flight should’ve been first class. Because these big leather seats have ruined me for those sardine seats in coach. Note to self: Always request first-class flights.

  “Why are you waking me up?” A string of drool goes from my hand to the side of my face.

  “Eww . . .” Mystique says. “Look out the window.”

  I glance out the window and gasp at the sight of almost endless clear blue water. “It’s beautiful,” I say.

  “You see that little speck of green?” Mystique asks.

  “Yeah, what’s that?”

  “That’s Barbados.”

  My eyes widen. “That little speck of green is the entire island?”

  “Yes. It’ll look bigger as we come in for landing.”

  I laugh out loud. “I hope so, because right now, it doesn’t even look like this plane will fit on the island.”

  It does indeed fit, and less than an hour later, we’re flying close to the island, and I can see blue water lapping against white sand. It’s the most beautiful and breathtaking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

  Finally, we touch down at the Grantley Adams International Airport. From the outside I can tell that it’s small. Like a hundred of this airport could fit in Hartsfield-Jackson International back home in the A.

  As we go through customs, I notice lots of dark smiling faces. I’ve never seen this many black people working in one place. Some of them running the show, and others are clearly the worker bees.

  I whisper to Mystique as I’m cleared in customs, “Why do they keep smiling at me?”

  “You are a celebrity! A lot of these pretty black boys want to meet a pretty American girl. Sam better keep close tabs on you.”

  I roll my eyes. “Yeah right. Sam isn’t checking for me right now. He said I had him going in circles.”

  “You did. But that’s what girls do. Sam’s going to have to realize that. Girls who are worth having are worth going in circles for.”

  Something about Mystique’s logic is flawed, but I can’t put my finger on what it is. Oh, wait, yes, I can! She sounds crazy!

  I try to ignore the pretty Bajan girl grinning in Sam’s face. She’s supermodel tall, with skin the color of charcoal briquettes. Her hair is in an intricate cornrow pattern to the back, and it looks like she bought her airport uniform two sizes too little.

  She says something that must be uproariously funny to Sam, because he throws his head back and laughs. I want to know what she said. I want to storm over and ask him right now. I take one step in their direction, and Mystique grabs my arm.

  “Don’t do it. He’s flirting with that girl on purpose. He’s trying to make you jealous.”

  “It’s working,” I reply.

  Mystique shakes her head. “No, Sunday. You can’t let him know that it’s getting to you. Stay aloof and disconnected if you want him back.”

  This I don’t understand. How does staying aloof and disconnected work to get anyone back? That seems like it would have the opposite effect. But what do I know? I’m just stupid me who drove away the best crush ever.

  It takes Big D and Truth an additional amount of time to get through customs. I guess the airport crew must’ve heard about Truth’s arrest.

  After everyone is done, we head for the two stretch limos waiting for us in the ground transportation area.

  “Aren’t these nice?” Mystique asks me as everyone makes a mad dash for one or the
other.

  “They are! Did you have something to do with this?”

  “Zac paid for them. He said that he wanted me and the Epsilon artists to show up to our resort in style.”

  “That’s what’s up.”

  I decide to go in the same limo that Sam chose, and Mystique goes with me. I wonder if this counts as staying aloof and disconnected. I don’t ask Mystique, because I’m sure that I won’t want to hear her answer.

  Big D, Shelly, Dilly, and Bethany are all in here too, so I guess Truth and Dreya rode with the BET crew and Regina, the makeup artist. A little grin erupts on my face when I imagine Dreya being angry about riding with “the help.” Whatever, though. She should just be glad she’s in Barbados!

  The limos take off from the beautiful yet small airport and head toward our tropical island paradise. We were told that the resort is fifteen minutes away from the airport. And that’s all we were told.

  No one told me to expect the hustle and bustle of the cramped streets. Our limos seemed gargantuan trying to maneuver through the busy marketplace. On both sides of the street are people selling . . . everything! There are little wooden statues and bowls, paintings, clothes, fruit, flowers, and so much more.

  “Can we get out?” I ask no one in particular.

  “You’ll have plenty of time to shop later,” Mystique says. “We’ve got a video to shoot, remember?”

  “Right. It’s so beautiful here that I keep forgetting we’re here to work.”

  “We’ll have time to play too,” Big D says.

  The limo driver says, “Make sure you get to De Gap. De Reggae Lounge is good, good, good!”

  “De Gap?” I ask.

  “Yah, girl. St. Lawrence Gap. De Gap.”

  I nod with some understanding. I’ve read up on this little island, because who knows when I’m going to be back. St. Lawrence Gap is where all the nightlife happens.

  “Zac took me to the Reggae Lounge the last time we were here. It was a hot spot!”

  “Shut yuh mout. You go day?” The driver asks.

  Mystique giggles and responds, “I stan day all night long. The nusic was good good.”

  “What did y’all just say?” Sam asks, suddenly interested in the conversation. Previously, he was looking out of the limo window.

  “He said, ‘Shut your mouth! You went there?’ and then I said, ‘I stayed there all night long. The music was good!’ ”

  “You a real Bajan, aren’t you?” Shelly asks.

  “I love it here,” Mystique replies. “They’ll speak in English for you at the resort, Sunday. I see you looking scared.”

  “Not scared, just wishing I had studied more on the dialect.”

  “Is that where we’re staying?” Shelly asks as we pull into the drive for the Almond Casuarina Beach Resort.

  Big D replies, “Yes. And we’re going to shoot the video right on the beach.”

  Check-in is a breeze since Epsilon Records has paid for everything in full up front. I have a one-bedroom ocean-view suite and so do Big D and Shelly. Sam and Dilly are roommates, and Bethany is bunking with Regina, our makeup artist, in rooms with a garden view.

  Since their rooms are not quite ready (we got in early), Bethany, Sam, and Dilly come to my room to change into our bathing suits, so we can hit the beach for a little while. Dilly and I have to start makeup and hair for my video shoot in a few hours, because the first scene is a night shoot on the beach. One of the BET cameramen follows us. I know the filming is part of it, but his presence is somewhat annoying.

  The bellhop opens the door to my room and I have to gasp with awe. I don’t think I’ve ever stayed anywhere as nice as this! The sitting room—yes, sitting room—is decked out with tan and wicker furniture, and there is a patio with a table and chairs.

  “Can we open that door?” I ask the bellhop.

  “Yes, but be careful of de tree frogs. Dey might come in and sing fuh yuh.”

  I laugh out loud. “Tree frogs! Oh my goodness.”

  “Maybe you can open it when you get ready to go out there, and then close it behind you,” Sam says. “I’ve seen you around insects—I don’t think that would be a good look for the cameras to catch you running from a frog.”

  I smile over at Sam. He seems to be in a better mood than he was at the airport. I don’t know if it’s for the BET cameras or if it’s the faint coconut scent in the island air. I mean, how could you not feel good with the breeze from the Caribbean Sea caressing your face? Poetic much? I know. . . . I can’t help it. This place makes me want to be lyrical.

  The bellhop gives a little bow as he backs out of the room. I run to my purse for a tip. My mother told me this before I left—“Everybody who touches your bags will want some money.”

  “Your room is banging!” Dilly says. “I hope ours is this nice.”

  Sam laughs out loud. “I’m sure it’ll be nice, but it won’t be this big.”

  Suddenly a little tired, I sprawl onto the comfortable sofa in my room. “Bethany, I didn’t get to congratulate you on your record deal with Mystique. Is she planning on using any of me and Sam’s music on your album?”

  “I think so, but she also wants to use some other writers so that I have a different sound from you and Dreya.”

  “That makes sense, but I heard the finished copies of the tracks you did with me and Sam’s songs. You sound really good.”

  “Thank you. And thanks for the congratulations too. I didn’t know if you’d be happy about me signing on with Mystique too.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be happy?” I ask. “I wasn’t writing songs for you so that you wouldn’t get a record deal.”

  “It’s just that some people say that they want to help you, but then they just end up using you in the process.”

  She gets really quiet after saying this, which makes me think she’s referring to Truth. I could’ve told her that he wouldn’t help her get a record deal. I mean, really, how would he be able to do that with Dreya breathing down his neck. Truth and Dreya are completely obsessed with one another, so he would’ve never been able to keep his promises to Bethany.

  “Well, some people are not me! I do what I say I’m gonna do.”

  Bethany plops down next to me on the couch. “This room is nice! And you’re staying in here all by your lonesome. Are you sure you don’t want a roommate?”

  I respond by lifting one eyebrow and smirking. On the surface, Bethany seems to be a different person from the one who hooked up with Romell, my ex-boyfriend, tried to hook up with Sam, and hooked up with Dreya’s current boyfriend, Truth. But, her track record is way too bad for me to let her back in the friend circle that easily, even if I do want her to have a recording career.

  Still, with Sam acting sometimey, I don’t know if I really have a friend here in Barbados. Mystique doesn’t count because she doesn’t know how to let her hair down until Zac comes around. And I sure can’t count Dreya, not with Truth in the mix.

  “Let’s get dressed, y’all. Mystique will be rounding me and Dilly up in a little bit, and I read in the brochure that they have snorkeling and kayaking.”

  “You trying to do all that?” Sam asks.

  “One or the other right now, and then the rest after we get done shooting tomorrow.”

  Dilly smiles as he makes a dash toward the bedroom. “Guys get dressed first! Y’all take way too long.”

  I laugh out loud. Has this dude met me? I’m so not the primping and fussing girl that would take all day to get ready for the beach. He’s got me confused with Dreya.

  When it’s me and Bethany’s turn to get dressed in the bedroom, I take advantage of the fact that I have her alone.

  “Bethany, are you okay with Truth being here?”

  She takes a long pause before responding. “I’m not gonna lie, it really shocked me that he showed up. He knows that Epsilon doesn’t want him here, or they would’ve paid for it.”

  “Yeah, I’m tripping because he and Dreya are not even supposed to be back togeth
er. You know he badly sprained her ankle, right?”

  Bethany’s eyes get huge. “No, I didn’t know that he did that. I thought they were so in love.”

  “I don’t know what to call it, but it isn’t love. I just want to make sure that you aren’t still digging him. Dilly might get kind of twisted.”

  “I don’t like him anymore. He was just playing me anyway. I wish I’d never fallen for his games.”

  “I’m just checking, because this reality show is supposed to be drama free. They’ll probably just edit out all the stuff they don’t want to show.”

  Bethany sighs as she checks out her reflection in the mirror. I know she can tell that her bikini is like two sizes too small, but I think she likes the effect of her butt cheeks hanging out all over the place. My mom would choke the life out of me if I was on TV looking like that.

  In less than fifteen minutes, we emerge from the bedroom, ready for the beach. Sam and Dilly both are wearing long trunks and flip-flops. Both of them are ripped in the abdominal area. Six-packs all over the place. I guess musicians work out too.

  I’m wearing a cute tankini with boy shorts. It’s pink and green on top and white on the bottom. And both boys are appreciating Bethany’s too small bikini. She starts putting that bodacious backside on display.

  “Y’all look hot!” Dilly exclaims. “We might have to fight some Bajan dudes over them, Sam.”

  Sam chuckles. “Sunday is her own woman! If she wants to holla at a Bajan dude, who am I to stop her?”

  I watch Dilly and Bethany exchange shocked glances. Sam gets on my nerves. I just roll my eyes at him and storm out of my suite. Oh well to the BET cameras getting all this on film. I’m too mad to worry about that right now.

  As soon as I see the beach, my anger evaporates. I just can’t stay angry in the face of so much beauty. I run across the white sand, leaving my friends in the dust.

  When I get to the edge of the water, I don’t stop, I just run right in! It’s high noon, the sun is beaming down, and the water is warm!

  “Dang, Sunday!” Sam gasps when he finally catches up to me. “You’re like a mermaid or something! Just running to the water like it’s home.”