Time to Shine

by Nikki Carter

  “Y’all want some of this cake?” Shelly asks. Her thick Southern accent tells me that she’s a native Georgia peach just like me.

  “I’ll pass,” Dreya says. “The last thing I need is cake.”

  “Your body is perfect. You can eat what you want,” Big D says.

  Dreya shakes her head. “No. Evan told me that my skin is dull when I don’t eat right. When I get off the plane in New York, I want to be glowing.”

  Glowing? Really? I’ve never seen Dreya quite so taken with a guy like she is with Evan. I think she, like Shelly, turns a blind eye and a deaf ear to dirt he might be doing. This is how rich guys get over, I guess, because girls will stay with them in spite of foolishness, just so they can get iced up with diamonds and wear designer clothes.

  “When does your flight leave?” Sam asks. “Are we going back on the same flight?”

  “I’m leaving next Friday,” Dreya says.

  “Oh, naw, then. I’m out tomorrow morning,” Sam says.

  “You let your man be alone that long?” Shelly asks as she sets her tray with the uneaten cake slices on the table.

  “Me and my man are both grown,” Dreya replies. “I’m not stressing what he does when I’m not there, just like he’s not stressing what I do. That’s called grown and sexy.”

  I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Okay, moving right along. Here’s what we came up with so far. Come on, Sam. Play the music.”

  Sam moves slowly, like he doesn’t like being bossed by me. After a long and deliberate pause, he starts to play.

  I sing, “You checking up on me/You checking up on me/Who do you think you are?/You don’t own me/You don’t know me/I’m a star, baby/Nobody checks up on me.”

  Dreya squeals with delight as we finish the song. “That’s hot! I love it. When can I record it?”

  “We have to write the second verse, and the bridge,” I say. “But it’ll be next week.”

  “Why do we have to wait until next week? You and Sam were always able to bust out a song in an hour or so. What’s up?” Dreya asks.

  I’m not even going to respond to this. Dreya knows exactly what’s up between me and Sam. Everyone in our camp knows. She’s just being messy right now. Sam takes off his baseball cap, scratches the top of his head, and replaces it. I know what this gesture means. He’s trying to avoid answering the question too. It’s amazing how much I picked up of Sam’s individual tics from dating him just that little short time.

  “Sunday, can I talk to you in private for a minute?” Dreya asks. Then she looks at Sam, Shelly, and Big D. “Can we have a second?”

  Big D frowns. “Am I being kicked out of my own studio?”

  “Just for a minute,” Dreya says. “I really, really need to talk to my cousin.”

  Okay, what is Dreya on? My cousin? I haven’t heard her refer to me that way since we were little. She doesn’t even introduce me as her cousin. She’s always like, “This is Sunday.”

  Sam pulls his hat low on his head and stands from the keyboard. “Sunday, get at me before I leave, even if we have to finish this song over the phone.”

  He doesn’t wait for my response, but goes upstairs two steps at a time. Shelly sets her plate of pound cake down on the table and follows behind Sam. Big D is a lot slower in getting up the stairs. I’m starting to be concerned about him. All that weight he’s carrying cannot be good.

  When they are safely upstairs with the door to the basement closed, Dreya says, “Sunday, I’ve got something to say to you. And it’s gonna be hard, but I have to do it.”

  “Okay.”

  “I am sorry for what I did to you. I’m sorry I went to Epsilon Records and tried to get you dropped from your deal.”

  This is a shock! An apology from Dreya? Am I being punk’d?

  “Why did you do it? I still don’t understand why.”

  “Sunday, don’t you see? You are a better singer than me! You write songs. You’re prettier than me! I just wanted, for once, to be better than you . . . to have something that belongs to me.”

  “Wow. I don’t even know what to say.”

  “But I don’t feel the same way anymore. I know that there is room for both of us.”

  I am skeptical of this entire conversation. This is so unlike Dreya that I think it has to be coming from someone else.

  “Did Evan tell you to apologize?” I ask.

  Dreya shakes her head. “No, but he did tell me I was wrong to hate on you. I thought he’d be on my side, but he wasn’t. He thinks family is everything.”

  “So it took Evan to tell you everything my mom has been saying to you since we were little?”

  Dreya looks at the floor and shrugs. When she raises her head there are tears in her eyes. “Sunday, do you know how jealous I’ve been of you our entire lives?”

  “What?”

  “You had the good mother. Auntie Shawn works hard and y’all always had someplace to stay. Me and Manny never knew where we were gonna live, or even if we’d have dinner.”

  I bite my lip and sadly think about Dreya’s life. Aunt Charlie was always in kickin’-it mode. She partied hard, even when she needed to be there for her kids. My mom always had to bail her out and make sure my cousins had a roof over their heads. It always irritated me when they lived with us, because I didn’t have my own space. I never once thought about how they felt having to live with us.

  “Dreya, my mother would’ve never let y’all go without.”

  “I know, but I wanted her to be my mother. I wished like crazy that Auntie Shawn would just adopt me. My mom just wanted to have fun, and she still does. That gets old.”

  I inhale a deep breath and then release it. “So, I guess I have to forgive you, huh?”

  Dreya bursts into laughter. “I mean, it would probably be the right thing to do. I am your only girl cousin.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Wow, Sunday. I see why Sam can’t get back with you. You are hardcore.”

  I chuckle. “No, Sam can’t get back with me because he’s scum. But, I’m done thinking about forgiving you. I forgive you, girl.”

  “You do?”

  I nod and give her a small hug. “That’s how Tollivers roll.”

  “And you know this!” Dreya says with one hand in the air. “So now that we have that out of the way, what are you wearing to the Grammys?”

  “I don’t even know. Haven’t had time to think about it.” This I can answer honestly, because it is the truth.

  “I’ll have Evan send a designer to the Spelman campus. You need to look good representing Reign Records.”

  “No, ma’am. I don’t even think so. I will go to the mall and find something. I’m not buying any thousand-dollar gowns.”

  Dreya laughs. “I don’t pay for anything anymore! The designers want us to wear their stuff to the awards shows. As long as you remember to say their name on the red carpet. Trust me, I know how stingy you are with your money. I wouldn’t even suggest it if it wasn’t free.”

  “Oh, okay. Text me a time and date then, and it’s on.”

  “Okay.”

  I pick up my backpack and sling it over my shoulder. “I’ve got to go and write this paper, Dreya. For real.”

  “Did you ever think of hiring someone to do that for you?”

  I look at her like she’s lost her mind. “What? My homework? No. That’s called cheating.”

  “Oh, come on! It’s just a homework assignment. You’re going to take the exams, right? It’s like when we used to work together on our assignments. You could just have a study buddy . . . who writes papers.”

  “Girl, let me get away from you before I change my mind about forgiving you.”

  Dreya laughs out loud. “I’m just trying to help you out!”

  “You’re trying to make sure I have time to work on your album.”

  “That too, but you are definitely stressed to the limit. I don’t want to see you burn out, cuzzo.”

  “Let me be the one to worry
about my stress level, okay? I’m straight.”

  “You’re saying that now. But if you keep writing hit songs, you won’t need a law degree or a degree in anything for that matter. You could just live life, and live it up.”

  “I’m out, Dreya.” I take the stairs like Sam, two at a time.

  I think I’m done trying to convince everyone about my choices for my life. I want to enjoy college, and not just get a degree. I want to do music that I feel deep down in my soul. And, I want to have study dates with cute guys.

  I just hope that I can have it all without losing myself in the process.

  8

  I just got my paper back from composition class. Another C. I slump down in my chair, totally feeling dejected.

  Gia pokes me in the side. “What’s wrong?”

  “I got a C on my paper.”

  “Oh.”

  I watch Gia try to stealthily slip her paper in her binder without me seeing the gigantic A+ on top of it. I’m so not used to being average. I’ve always been stellar in everything I do, so I can’t get with these middle-of-the-road grades.

  Professor Due gives us yet another writing assignment based on a selection from a Toni Morrison novel called A Mercy. I have got to get an A on this one, for real.

  After class is dismissed, Gia and I go over to meet Piper for lunch at the Manley Student Center. Mostly, we eat off campus, but this has got to be a quick lunch for me, because I have a stylist meeting me in my dorm with a boatload of clothes for the Grammys.

  Piper is already here waiting for us. She smiles at us as we sit down, but I can’t bring myself to match her chip-perosity. I’m too bummed about my grade.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Piper asks.

  When I don’t reply, Gia says, “She got a bad grade on her paper.”

  “It wasn’t that bad. It was a C,” I say.

  “Exactly,” Gia says. “It wasn’t that bad. Professor Due rocks, but she has high standards.”

  “You got an A, though. . . .”

  “I got an A, because I don’t have to go to the studio every other day, and I can actually do my homework. You’re trying to do too much,” Gia says.

  “Not you too! Everyone keeps saying that to me. I can go to school and do music. It doesn’t have to be one or the other.”

  Piper says, “Maybe you should just drop your class load some.”

  “No. I want to graduate with y’all. I’m not going to be here for six years trying to finish.”

  “Maybe, you just need to get more organized. Have you thought about hiring an assistant?” Gia asks.

  “You want the job?” I ask.

  “Uh, no! I am your friend, so that’s not gonna work. Piper either. We’re too tight. I was thinking my homeboy Kevin.”

  “Does he need the money or something?” I ask, unsure of how I feel about this idea, but not totally rejecting it.

  “He could definitely use it. Kevin is here on full scholarship, and his grandparents are barely giving him enough to live on. If it wasn’t for that on-campus meal card, he’d be starving to death, but that’s not why I recommended him.”

  “Well, why did you say him instead of me?” Piper asks. “Because I would so make a great assistant.”

  “Kevin is ridiculously organized, and no boyfriend you have would ever worry about him trying to holla at you, because he would never do that.”

  “But Kevin is cute though,” I say. “If Sam and I were still dating, he wouldn’t be feeling that at all.”

  “You and Sam are history, right?” Piper asks. “We don’t care what he would think.”

  Gia high-fives Piper across the table. “Okay!”

  I would join in with their celebration, but I’m not ecstatic about Sam being the past, especially when I have to see him all the time. I let out a long and tired sigh.

  Gia touches my arm lightly. “Don’t feel bad, girl. You aren’t the only one having boyfriend issues.”

  “You too?” My eyebrows lift in shock. Gia and Ricky are like the epitome of teenage love.

  “Ricky wants to break up. He says that it’s too hard staying chaste and being in a relationship.” Gia sounds sad, but not angry.

  “Chaste?” Piper asks. “So, you guys haven’t . . . ?”

  “No. We’re both virgins,” Gia says. “We’re saving ourselves for marriage.”

  Piper takes a long swig of her soda. “Whoa.”

  “I’m a virgin too,” I say.

  “Are you serious?” Piper says. “Now, y’all making me feel like a skank.”

  I throw a French fry at her. “Pretty much.”

  “Whatever!” Piper says.

  I turn to Gia and give her a hug, even though I’m not a hugger. She looks so sad that I make an exception.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  She nods. “I am. It’s just that I’m afraid that while we’re not officially together that he might find someone else.”

  “If he does, then he wasn’t the one,” Piper says. “You just have to know that.”

  I rub Gia’s back as a few tears drop from her eyes. She doesn’t go into a full-fledged cry. I don’t think that’s Gia’s style.

  “At least you have your cousin Hope on campus with him to give us the scoop,” Piper says.

  This makes us all burst into laughter and dries Gia’s tears right up. I wish I could trust Dreya to give me the scoop on what Sam is doing in NYC. It would help me get over him if I knew Sam had moved on.

  “Y’all want to help me pick out my Grammy outfit?” I ask. “It might be fun.”

  “Negative,” Gia says. “I’ve got a research paper to do.”

  “Me either. I’m going to kick it with a guy I met when I went to sign up for a class at Morehouse.”

  “Is he cute?” Gia asks.

  “No, girl. He’s hot. He looks like a nineteen-year-old Idris Elba! He’s tall, and dark, and has an incredible body.”

  “I’ma need you to not sound that excited!” I say. “You sound like you’re about to melt into a little puddle on the floor. What’s his name?”

  “James, but everyone calls him L.J. He is so perfectly perfect. I’m so glad I met him. I thought I was going to stay boyfriendless.”

  “Maybe I need to get out more,” I say, “because there seem to be hotties everywhere, and I’m totally boyfriend free.”

  Gia and Piper both laugh. “DeShawn would so be pouting right now if he heard you say that,” Gia says.

  “He’s not my boyfriend, but he’s definitely a hottie.”

  Piper says, “I heard him talking about going to the Grammys with you. He’s so pumped.”

  “He is, isn’t he? That’s the effect I have on the poor boy. I hope he’s able to contain his excitement.”

  Gia says, “Are y’all ready for our Black History Month performance? We’ve only got two more rehearsals. How are y’all feeling about it?”

  Piper and I look at each other and then back at Gia. “You want to go first?” I ask.

  “No, you,” Piper says.

  I clear my throat. “Gia, honey . . . I don’t think I want to do this dance anymore. You told us that a lot of people would join us, but it’s just the four of us. I’m not much of a dancer. I was gonna hide in the back of everybody else.”

  “I want to do it,” Piper says, “but I think people will look at me strange, because I’m white.”

  “I cannot believe y’all,” Gia says. “But I should’ve known that y’all would flake out on me.”

  “What about Meagan?” I ask. “Isn’t she still doing it?”

  “She quit after the last practice. Sent me a text message,” Gia says.

  I put my arm around Gia’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Gia.”

  She shrugs me off. “I just wish y’all had told me before. Now, I’ve got to look all crazy in front of our professor, because I promised this dance, and now it’s not gonna happen. What happened to sisterhood, huh?”

  I let out a huge sigh. “Okay, dang. I’ll
do it.”

  “Well, I’ll have to change a few things if it’s just going to be the two of us.” Gia hugs me around my neck.

  Piper groans. “Why’d you have to go there about sisterhood? I’ll do it too.”

  Gia takes one of her arms and wraps it around Piper’s neck and pulls us into a three person hug. “Yay. I knew y’all wouldn’t let me down. I’m going to make us some beautiful skirts. All you need to get is a black leotard and tights.”

  I shake my head. How in the world did this happen? I was supposed to be getting out of this African dance thing. I just know it’s going to be on YouTube, and I’m gonna be looking a straight-up mess.

  “Okay then, sisters. I have to go and look at dresses for the Grammys,” I say as I stand from the table.

  “But you didn’t eat anything,” Piper says.

  “I know. I’ll get something later. That C totally ruined my appetite. Do me a favor, though. Ask L.J. if he has any friends. I think I feel like hanging out tonight.”

  “Did you read A Mercy yet?” Gia asks. “You should probably get an early start, since you’ve got the Grammys and everything.”

  “Listen here, fun police. I need a break.”

  Piper grins. “I’ll ask him. We can go out clubbing or something. Don’t hate on fun, Gia.”

  Gia shakes her head. “Well, whatever. I’m on scholarship, so I have to get A’s. You slackers can do what you want, as long as you are in the place on Thursday, and ready to dance.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Call me, Piper. Gia, I’ll see you later.”

  I rush over to my dorm to meet the celebrity stylist who’s going to hopefully have me looking like an A-list star for the Grammy awards. To my dismay, Dreya is standing outside my dorm with the stylist.

  “Girl, I know you didn’t have us waiting,” Dreya says as she looks at her watch.

  I ignore Dreya and extend my hand in a greeting to the stylist. “I’m sorry for the delay. I had class earlier. Sunday Tolliver, pleased to meet you.”

  “I am Anjelica, and I am also happy to meet you.”