by Nikki Carter
“And you show up on the red carpet with the dude from your video. Looks like you played him.”
“Exactly. I so want to call up Jamie Foster Brown and do an interview with Sister 2 Sister magazine. She always has the real story.”
“What would you say about your breakup? Would you put him out there like that? Would you give Jamie the whole scoop?”
“Good question. And I don’t know the answer. It would depend on the day, I guess. Like right now, I would so put him on blast. But tomorrow, I might feel differently.”
DeShawn nods his head thoughtfully. “So does he still have a chance? Like you’re off him right now, but tomorrow you might feel differently?”
I feel DeShawn heading down a path where he’s going to end up getting his feelings hurt.
“Man . . . I don’t like being played. That won’t change tomorrow, or the day after that.”
“Okay, I hear you.”
The limo driver pulls up in front of the restaurant and lets us out. I’d heard that if you came to this restaurant during their busy times that you have to stand in line. Luckily it’s near midnight, so there’s not much traffic.
DeShawn says to the limo driver, “Wait here. We should be about an hour.”
“You want me to bring you some takeout?” I ask.
The limo driver smiles. “Yes, I would. The fried chicken breast, greens, macaroni and cheese, and candied yams.”
“You about to eat all that this late at night?” I ask.
The limo driver nods. “I sure am!”
“That’s what’s up!” I give him a fist bump on the way into the restaurant.
After we’ve been seated and placed our orders, DeShawn stares at me and chuckles.
“What is so funny?” I ask.
“You don’t see how cool you are, Sunday. I don’t know any other Grammy-award-winning R and B divas that would bring the limo driver dinner.”
I laugh out loud. “You don’t know any other Grammy-award-winning R and B divas at all!”
“Not true! I know Mystique, and she definitely wouldn’t take the limo driver’s order. She wouldn’t care whether he ate or not.”
I consider this and decide that I agree with DeShawn. Not only would Mystique not care about getting the driver food, but she’d want to know what nerve he had getting hungry on the job. She’d be mad if she heard his stomach growl. It would probably wreck her flow.
“Well, I guess that’s just who I am. My mom says that everyone is important and that God is no respecter of persons. That’s like her favorite scripture.”
DeShawn says, “I agree with your mother.”
“So what’s your major, DeShawn? What are you going to do when we graduate from college?”
He shrugs. “I’m pursuing a dual major in political science and journalism. I’m thinking I can be one of those analysts on CNN.”
“Wow. I had no idea.”
“What, did you think I wanted to be an actor or something?”
I cover my mouth to stifle my laugh. “Yeah, I kinda did. I thought you were going to go from videos to movies and then make your home in Hollywood.”
“You sound like you’ve got my career all planned out!”
“Okay, but I was totally and incredibly wrong. You want to be a news correspondent, not star in Tyler Perry movies!”
We burst into laughter that doesn’t die easily. When one of us tries to stop, the other renews the flurry of giggles. We’re still cracking up when our food finally arrives, but as soon as that crispy golden fried chicken and yummy thin and perfect waffle are in front of me, all laughter ceases.
“Are you going to eat all of that?” DeShawn asks.
I nod while trying to manage a huge mouthful of food. “I’m gonna dang sure try,” I say after I swallow.
“That’s just greedy.”
“Have you tasted this? It’ll give you a case of food lust that you wouldn’t believe.”
I grab DeShawn’s fork and put a bit of waffle and chicken on it. Then I feed him the yummy morsel. He closes his eyes and moans.
“That was delicious,” DeShawn says. “Do you want some of my macaroni and cheese? My greens are good too.”
I don’t wait for DeShawn to ask me again before digging into his plate and scooping up a forkful of food. It doesn’t make any sense how delicious this is! I didn’t expect it to come close to the Busy Bee Café, but they are certainly equals in my mind. Now I have East Coast and West Coast locations to indulge my greediness.
A pre-teenage girl has walked up to our table, and stands there with a notepad and pen in her hand. “Can I have your autograph?” she asks with a smile.
“She’s eating,” DeShawn says. “She’ll do it before she leaves.”
I narrow my eyes at DeShawn and take the girl’s notepad. “Of course, I will give you an autograph. Did you watch the Grammys?”
The girl nods and grins. “I did! Congratulations on your award. You should’ve won the Best New Artist one too.”
“Everybody keeps saying that! But I’m happy with the one I got. What’s your name?”
“Aaliyah.”
“Spelled like the singer?”
“Yes. She was my mom’s favorite.”
“My mom’s too!”
I sign Aaliyah’s notepad and then hand it back to her. “There you go.”
“Thank you so much! Can I ask you a question?”
I nod. “Sure!”
“Who is this guy? Is he your bodyguard or something? Isn’t Sam your boyfriend?”
DeShawn and I burst into laughter. “He is my bodyguard for the night, but mostly he’s my friend,” I say.
“Well, all of my friends love you and Sam! We watched the reality show where y’all fell in love. Will you tell him that Aaliyah from Los Angeles said hi?”
“I sure will. Thank you so much for your support.”
“We love you, Sunday!” Aaliyah says, and all of her friends wave from their table.
“Love you more!”
Aaliyah walks or rather floats back across the room to her group of friends. DeShawn stares at me with a curious look on his face.
“What?” I ask.
“You didn’t have to sign that right then. Next time you may not feel like it, and then people will say you don’t appreciate your fans,” DeShawn says.
“I do appreciate my fans, so that won’t happen. If they want to line up around the block asking me to sign stuff, I’ll do it. It’s because of them that I’m a millionaire.”
“Okay. Well, just make sure you don’t have an off day. It’ll be all over the blogs the very next day.”
“I’m sick of worrying about the Internet bloggers.”
“They are a blessing and a curse. They can help blow you up and destroy you at the same time. I guess that’s why you need to go out with friends that sometimes double as bodyguards.”
“Did that bother you?” I ask. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. You are watching out for me today.”
“And I’d do it every day if you paid me. I’ll be your bodyguard.”
I scrunch my nose into a frown. “I don’t think you’re scary enough. Or big enough. I think I need a three-hundred-pound ex-NFL player or something.”
DeShawn laughs. “I am not just a football jock. I’m a wrestler and I have black belts in jujitsu, kung fu, and karate. I can fight.”
“Okay . . . you’ll do for now. But just know that I’m looking to get a big dude on my squad. Some crazy guy tried to push up on me with his demo at the House of Blues in Atlanta. Sam saved me, but Sam is a one-punch kind of guy. If dude hadn’t hit the floor, Sam might’ve been in trouble.”
DeShawn lifts an eyebrow and juts his chin out defensively. “Sam still punching dudes over you?”
“Well, yeah. The guy was all on me, grabbing me and stuff. I’m glad he was there.”
“I think he still wants to be with you, Sunday. I think he won’t give up until he has you back.”
I shake my h
ead. “Nah, he knows that it’s over. Anything else he feels is just leftover from when we were kicking it. There’s no chance of us getting back together.”
“That’s what you say, but I don’t think Sam agrees.”
I shrug and take another bite of food before responding. “He doesn’t have to agree in order for it to be true.”
“I guess it doesn’t matter what he thinks or believes, as long as he’s not in my way when I make my move.”
This makes me giggle. “Your move? Oh, boy! Will you do me a favor and warn me when this move is on the way?”
“I won’t know ahead of time! But just know that when it comes it’ll be perfect. It’ll be the best move you ever had made on you.”
Now my giggles change into snorts. DeShawn is hilarious! “You are the man, then! As a matter of fact, this move sounds dangerous. I hope I survive it.”
“You got jokes, I see.”
I try to make my face serious. I furrow my eyebrows and make my lips into a straight line. “I am being serious right now.”
“Then why do you look like you’re on the verge of cracking up?”
Since DeShawn easily sees through my façade, I just go ahead and laugh. “I’m sorry. I am feeling really silly tonight.”
“Well, I like you silly, so it’s all good.”
He reaches across the table, covers my hand with his, and squeezes. My first instinct is to snatch my hand away, because it feels weird that he’s not Sam. But the sincerity of his smile makes me change my mind.
I mean, even if I’m not ready for a new boyfriend, will it hurt anything to enjoy the attention of a really, really hot boy? No matter what your answer or any grown person’s answer is, I’m gonna go with no—it won’t hurt a dang thing.
13
I’ve got to finish this paper. I don’t care what’s going on with anyone, I’ve put this off long enough. I do not want to hear a lecture from my professor about priorities and about deciding what’s important. I know what’s important, but my first Grammy win was incredible!
Earbuds in. Laptop up. A Mercy here for reference. Pillows propped up on my bed. Today, I will complete this thing.
Why is Gia tapping me on my shoulder? Big, gigantic, internal sigh.
I snatch out the earbuds. “Yes? What?”
“Okay, don’t get all fly with me, Grammy-award-winning Sunday Tolliver. I need to tell you something.”
I roll my eyes. “How many Grammy references are you going to make?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’ll keep saying Grammy until I am no longer irritated that you took DeShawn instead of me.”
I chuckle. “Um . . . I needed someone who could wear a tuxedo.”
“Whatever, Grammy winner.”
“What did you want to tell me? I’ve got to finish this paper this week. Three days until it’s due.”
“How much have you written?”
“A paragraph.”
“One paragraph on a five-page paper? That is so not a Grammy-worthy performance.”
I kick my feet out in front of me and widen my eyes. “What do you want?”
Gia sighs and gets up from my bed. “Since the Grammy-award-winning Sunday Tolliver can’t be bothered with her friends at the present, I guess I will go wandering around campus looking for someone to talk to.”
My phone lights up with a text from Dreya. I’m outside your dorm. Let me in.
I give up! Will they leave me alone for just a few minutes? Just long enough for me to write my second paragraph on this essay?
I snatch out the earbuds once again and jump off the bed. I am to the door, just as the first knock lands.
“Who is that?” Gia asks.
“My cousin.”
“Like don’t we have security?”
“Somehow, she bypasses it every time,” I say. “I think she’s got a fan on the security crew.”
I open the door, and Dreya is standing there with her hand on her hip. “What took you so long?”
I crack up laughing and step to the side so that she can walk in. “Why are you here, Dreya? I’ve seen more of you since you moved to New York City than when you lived here.”
“Whatever. I’m here with Evan. He’s got business. He’s trying to sign one of Toni Braxton’s sisters to a solo deal.”
“Well, as you can see, I was studying, so make it snappy.” I motion to the pile of papers and laptop on my bed.
Dreya crosses the room and plops down on the floor in front of my bed. “So, I overheard a conversation that I shouldn’t have heard. Now, I don’t know what to do.”
“Was it Sam?” I ask.
Dreya frowns and shakes her head. “Okay, why would I be twisted over a conversation that lame had? No, it wasn’t Sam. It was Evan and he was on a conference call with all of the heads at Epsilon Records.”
“Ooh! What did you hear?” I ask. The homework can wait. Anything that went on in this conversation could provide useful information.
“Don’t sound so excited. It’s not good news. Epsilon Records is thinking of dropping me from my record deal.”
“What? Why? You sold well with your debut, and now that you’ve dropped Truth and hooked up with Evan you’re basically drama free.”
Okay, that is a bit of a stretch. Dreya is never drama free. She thrives on foolishness and creates it wherever she goes.
“I think Mystique is pulling the strings to get me dropped. She’s mad about her hubby having a little child support check, and she thinks that I invited that chickenhead to her wedding reception. She’s trying to destroy me.”
“Mystique would never do that,” Gia says.
Dreya slowly turns toward Gia with a stank look on her face. “Okay, who invited you to this conversation?”
“I don’t need to be invited if it’s taking place in my room.”
“Get your girl,” Dreya says. “She don’t know me.”
Gia says, “I can hear you! You can speak directly to me.”
“Can you tell her she’s not on my level, so I’ll only speak to her through you?” Dreya says to me.
“Stop it, Dreya!” I say. “Gia, can Dreya and I please have a moment?”
“You’re trying to kick me out of my own room, Sunday?”
Gia looks all kinds of angry. I definitely didn’t mean to upset her, but I want to get Dreya out of here as soon as possible so I can finish my paper. Dreya’s not leaving until she has her say about her Mystique conspiracy—and she’s not having her say while she’s arguing with Gia.
“I’m not trying to kick you out. I would never do that. I just want to hear Dreya out really quickly so she can be on her way and I can get back to my paper.”
Gia shakes her head. “I’m gonna step out for a minute, and I’m doing it for you, Sunday. Not because your cousin came up in our room trying to regulate.”
“Girl, bye. Ain’t nobody heard that stupid speech but you.”
Gia walks out of the room and slams the door behind her. Then she opens the door and slams it again.
For a long moment I don’t say anything. I use the pause to choose my words carefully.
“Dreya. If Mystique is trying to get you dropped from your record deal, don’t you think you somewhat deserve it for what you did to me?”
“Sunday, I was desperate. I didn’t think they’d really drop you. I just wanted them to know how serious I was about my career. The stuff with Truth could’ve cost me everything.”
“I hear what you’re saying, but you’ll understand if I don’t want to get in this. It sounds like you need to go and make a truce with Mystique.”
“Truce! Whatever. If I find out that heffa tried to get me dropped from the label, we are taking it to the mattresses. It’s gonna be war.”
I purse my lips together and shake my head. “It sounds like you already have your mind made up. So, I don’t know how to help you.”
“You can write me some banging songs, Sunday. I mean, every song has to be a number-one hit. We need to tr
ash half the songs we’ve already done.”
She says this like writing hit songs is the easiest thing ever. You can have all the right things—a great beat, perfect hook, and meaningful lyrics, and it still might not connect with people. And it has to connect in order to be a hit.
“Trash half the songs? Dreya, your record is set to drop in the summer. They’re gonna want a listening party soon, and Epsilon will probably put out a single right after Bethany’s record drops. We don’t have time to trash half of those songs.”
“So you want me to have a half-hot record.”
“I want your record to be hot. I get paid if you sell a lot of records, even if you are shady as what. So, know that I’m going to give you the best that I got on this.”
Dreya picks up a book from my bed, flips it over in her hands, and drops it on the bed. “How are you gonna give me the best? You’re always rushing these days. Rushing to class, rushing to do some homework, rushing out on a date with your new boyfriend.”
“I’m living my life. I’m doing what you do. I’m doing me.”
“See, you don’t even care if I get dropped from my record deal or not.”
She’s right. I don’t care. I am a songwriter, so I can work with any hot artist Epsilon records signs. Even if it’s Dreya’s replacement.
But even if I don’t care, my mom does. She’d want me to do this. She’d want me to help my raggedy cousin keep her record deal, because in her mind, that’s what family would do. Luckily for Dreya, my mom means the world to me, and I don’t want her to think she didn’t raise me right.
“Look, Dreya, get Sam on the phone. Tell him to be here this weekend, starting on Friday. We lock ourselves in the studio until we have a hot record.”
“And what about your homework?”
“I’ll get it done. You just make sure Sam shows up, because that’s the only way this is gonna happen in time.”
“And who’s gonna keep you two from killing each other?” Dreya asks.
“Hmmm . . . I think you better pray about that.”
“Sunday, can I tell you something and you not get mad at me?”
See, I don’t like when people ask me questions like this. The only reason why a person would preface a big reveal with a question like this is because it’s going to make me mad.
