Time to Shine

by Nikki Carter

  “What if she smells bad?” Gia asks.

  “What if she snores and farts in her sleep?” I can barely get my question out without giggling.

  Piper pinches both of us. “You two are not kind. If I get a roommate like that I’m going to move in with y’all.”

  “It’s like you already live with us anyway,” I say. “You’re at our dorm every day and you eat all of the food in my mini-refrigerator. Speaking of which, did you eat my macaroni and cheese? I was looking forward to smashing that.”

  “Um, no! I don’t like your noodles and lard. I would never eat that,” Piper says.

  Gia raises one finger in the air. “I’m sorry. That was me. I was hungry, and my pizza was nasty.”

  “Greedy is your middle name. Gia Greedy Stokes. That’s your name,” I say.

  “Hold up, hold up, hold up,” Piper says. “I remember Sunday said she was moving us into an apartment next year. Do we have to wait? Can’t we move off campus now?”

  I shrug. “I guess so. I haven’t been condo shopping, though. I’ve been putting it off.”

  “We need somewhere with a pool,” Gia says. “And a game room. And an office.”

  “All that?” I ask.

  “And a Jacuzzi?” Piper asks.

  “You two are out of control, but it might be fun to go house shopping. I’ve hardly spent any of my money.”

  “Are you serious?” Gia asks. “Well, why don’t we go to the mall?”

  “I’m broke, so shopping won’t be much fun for me,” Piper says.

  “Well, I’m between blessings myself, but we gotta do something other than sit around here,” Gia says.

  “Between blessings?” Piper asks. “That’s church speak for . . . ?”

  “Broke. It is church speak for broke,” I say with a laugh. “Let’s go. I’ll buy y’all an outfit.”

  Just as we start down the stairs, DeShawn and Kevin are coming up.

  “Sunday! You haven’t been checking your texts,” Kevin says in an irritated tone.

  Okay, he is definitely on one hundred right now, and I need him to bring it on down to at least two.

  “Kevin, what are you tripping on?” I ask.

  “Did you forget that you have a photo shoot for Vibe magazine with the entire Reign Records crew? It starts in two hours, but you have to get down to the aquarium for hair and makeup.”

  “The aquarium? Is the entire Reign Records crew gonna be there or just the artists?”

  Kevin scrolls through his messages. “Um . . . Evan, Big D, and Sam are going to be there too.”

  Shoot, shoot, shoot. I do not want to go anywhere near the aquarium with Sam. That is the place where we had our first date, and our first kiss. That will bring up too many hurtful memories.

  “I guess we’re going to have to postpone our shopping trip, y’all. I’ve got to go to work.”

  “Are you ready to go?” DeShawn asks.

  “Yes, but why are you going? Kevin is my assistant.”

  DeShawn gives me an annoyed pout. “I’m your bodyguard, or did you forget about the guy that tried to take you out at House of Blues?”

  “I didn’t forget about him. Come on then.”

  My decision to let DeShawn come with me to the photo shoot has more to do with me being uncomfortable around Sam at the aquarium than the fear of any overzealous aspiring artists. I hope that if Sam sees me come in with DeShawn then maybe he’ll assume we’re together and not try to push up on me.

  When I walk into the aquarium with my “entourage” everyone else is already here.

  Dilly runs up to me and gives me a bear hug. “What’s going on, stranger? You haven’t called a brotha or nothing!”

  “I’ve been super busy, Dilly-Dill.”

  “I know, but I still miss you.”

  Bethany waves at me, but it doesn’t look enthusiastic or friendly. In fact, her facial expression is totally blank even though there’s a small smile on her lips. She looks like she’s in a trance.

  “She just took a Xanax,” Dilly says. “She said photo shoots stress her out.”

  “A Xanax? Who gave it to her?” I don’t know why I think Evan is her drug supplier, but I do.

  “She pulled it out of her purse. It was in a prescription bottle.”

  “Hmmm . . . not good.”

  Dilly shrugs. “Maybe she really is stressed out.”

  “Yeah, the music industry is kind of harsh,” Kevin says.

  I wouldn’t say that the industry is being very harsh to Bethany. Her record debuted at number one, and her video of the single she did with Dilly is in heavy rotation on MTV and BET. Her next single is the collaboration I wrote for me, Bethany, and Dreya. Evan thinks it’ll be a number-one hit. She should be feeling really good right now.

  “Come on,” Kevin says. “You need to go to hair and makeup.”

  “I’m so mad that he is such a good assistant,” DeShawn says. “How do you know she needs to go to hair and makeup, fool?”

  Kevin laughs. “She’s here for a photo shoot. Duh!”

  I scan the room and take in what everyone else is wearing. The theme, I’m guessing, is royalty. Everyone has on something red, purple, or white. I don’t see Sam, so he must not be here yet. Anjelica, Evan’s stylist from New York, is running back and forth with fabric swatches and shoes in her hands.

  Anjelica runs up to me and says, “I have the perfect dress for you, sweetie! Tell the hairstylist that I said to give you a curly updo!”

  I don’t even have time to nod my response, before Kevin is ushering me over to the stylist’s chair. This time the hairstylist is a guy. He’s a total hottie with his baggy pants, fitted sweater, and Timberland boots. He’s got incredible swag.

  He motions toward the chair. “Sunday, I’m Ron, and I’m pleased to be doing your hair for this photo shoot. Do you know what you’re wearing?”

  “Not exactly, but Anjelica said that my hair should be in a curly updo.”

  Ron nods. “Gotcha. You are gonna be sexy as what when I’m done. But let’s get this gel catastrophe washed out of your head.”

  As Ron leads me away, Kevin says, “Do you need me to do anything else?”

  “No. Thanks, Kev. You’re awesome.”

  I follow Ron to the sink in the back of our staging area. Then, I see him. Sam is in the back of the ballroom with his arm around a girl who looks like the ultimate groupie. Her tube dress barely covers her massive breasts and thick legs. When she sees me, she smiles and turns to give me a view of her backside—also ridiculously disproportioned to her tiny waist. Sam gazes over at me and gives me a head nod.

  I swallow hard to keep myself from vomiting all over the place. I thought I could handle seeing Sam with someone else, but my stomach is turning cartwheels.

  “I’m sorry that this isn’t exactly five star, Sunday,” Ron says. “But this is the best I could do.”

  I take a seat in the tiny chair in front of the sink and reply, “Most of the time, I wash my hair in the shower, so this is okay with me.”

  As I lean back in the chair and allow Ron to scrub all of the gel and dirt from my hair, I squeeze my eyes shut—not to keep out the shampoo, but to hold in the tears. I don’t want anyone to see them, especially Sam and his Jessica Rabbit doll.

  I knew that Sam would move on. He’s a guy, and guys do that. They don’t stay sad about a girl for long before moving on to the next one. But how could he say that I am his muse, and then show up here with another girl? I don’t think he meant that at all. Those were only words, because he wanted to get back together with me.

  Ron makes quick work of my product-filled hair and wraps it with a warm towel. “That feels good,” I say.

  “I microwave them. Makes it seem a little classier for you rich folk.”

  “I’m not rich. Not yet.”

  Ron bites his bottom lip and looks me up and down. “Really? You sold a bunch of records. If you ever need a hairstylist to go on the road with you, let me know. I’m available.”<
br />
  Somehow I don’t think his “I’m available” has anything to do with styling my hair. He’s looking at me like how the wolf licked his chops at Little Red Riding Hood.

  “I’m not planning any tours right now, but give me your card, and I’ll make sure to call you if I do.”

  “That’s what’s up. Come on, and let me finish making you beautiful.”

  “Sunday!” Sam calls from across the room. “I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

  I act as if I don’t hear Sam and speed up my steps toward Ron’s styling chair. I think Ron can tell what I’m doing, because he starts laughing.

  “We don’t have to hurry, Sunday. We’ve got another hour before we start shooting,” Ron says.

  Sam catches up to us as I plop down into the chair and throw the cape over my body.

  “Oh, hey, Sam,” I say nonchalantly as if I’m just now noticing him.

  Sam says, “Sunday, this is my new friend Phoebe. Phoebe, this is Sunday Tolliver.”

  Phoebe gives me a huge smile. “Sunday, I’m such a huge fan of yours. I would love to make you a piece of jewelry. Can I?”

  “Jewelry?” I ask.

  Sam says, “Pheobe makes custom jewelry out of crystals, diamonds, platinum, and gold. Look at this ring she made me.”

  Sam holds out his hand to show me the diamond encrusted S on his right hand. It’s big and gaudy—totally different from the style Sam used to have. He’s gone to New York and let Zac and Evan turn him into a true hip-hop baller.

  “Uh . . . this isn’t really my style,” I say.

  Phoebe giggles. “I wouldn’t make you something like this, silly! I’d make you something tiny and feminine. How about I make you a prototype with cubic zirconium and silver? If you like it then I can do the real thing.”

  “Uh, I guess that would be okay.”

  “Great! I’m going to go out to the car and get my portfolio. Maybe you’ll see something in there that you want.”

  Phoebe runs, or jiggles out of the ballroom, capturing the attention of Ron and Sam. Ron even drops the comb on the floor. Guys are disgusting.

  “Is she your new girlfriend?” I ask Sam.

  He nods. “Yeah. She’s really nice.”

  I don’t know if I expected him to lie or make up some excuse, but I did not think he’d say she was his girlfriend.

  “Good for you.”

  Sam lifts an eyebrow and gives me a strange look. I would add something else, but Ron is pulling a hot blow dryer through my thick hair. I can just feel my hair strands being damaged. I’m gonna start rocking wigs at these things.

  “You’re cool with it?” Sam asks. “I thought you’d be mad.”

  Ron turns off the blow dryer and I clear my throat. “No. I was mad when you lied to me about Rielle. I was mad about you making out with a random chick at the club. You’re not my man anymore, so why should I be angry about you dating someone?”

  Sam places a finger on my chin and tips my face up. “Nah, not angry, but sad maybe.”

  “Boy, please, you need to stop feeling yourself. Can’t you see that I brought DeShawn with me? We both brought our new boos.”

  “So you are dating DeShawn. I wondered when you were going to come clean about that.”

  “I don’t answer to you, so it’s whatever.” It’s hard to keep a straight face because Ron is furiously sticking pins into my hair to pin it up.

  “Hey, Sam, you’re already dressed for the shoot,” Ron says. “Can you please have this conversation with Sunday after I get her all glammed up?”

  Sam nods and saunters off toward Big D, Evan, and the rest of the crew.

  “You are not believable at all, Sunday,” Ron says. “But, I don’t think Sam is being real either. I don’t think he’s with Phoebe.”

  “Really? Why do you say that?”

  Ewww. Did I really just sound all eager and pressed like that?

  “Well, I happen to know Phoebe from around the way, and Sam isn’t really her type. He’s not rich enough.”

  “Well, Sam isn’t poor.”

  “The last man Phoebe dated was a Persian sheik.”

  “A for-real sheik?”

  “Yep. He’s the one who launched her jewelry company. She’s still dealing with him sometimes, but he’s married, so it’s on the low-low.”

  I roll my eyes and poke out my lips. “If it’s so on the low how do you know about it?”

  “Hairstylists get all the gossip. It’s like people sit in my chair and all of a sudden get diarrhea of the mouth.”

  “Well, then I have nothing else to say.”

  Ron laughs out loud. “Don’t tell me anything else then, even though I helped you out. You still digging Sam, and I just let you know the door is still open.”

  “Now, that’s where you’re wrong. I don’t want to get back with him, but I was feeling some kind of way about him having a new girlfriend.”

  “What’s wrong with your cousin?” Ron pulls my head up and points over at Dreya, who runs to a garbage can in the corner and falls to her knees.

  “Is she throwing up?”

  I jump out of the chair with my hair half finished and run over to Dreya.

  Anjelica yells at me. “Sunday! Let me tend to her. You need to get your hair finished, so we can start.”

  “Yeah,” Evan says. “She’ll be okay. She just partied a little too hard last night.”

  I cut my eyes at him as I help Dreya to her feet. I motion across the room to Kevin and he rushes over.

  “What do you need?” Kevin asks.

  “Can you get her some water? She’s not feeling well.”

  Dreya wipes her mouth with a napkin and whispers, “I don’t have a hangover.”

  “Then what’s wrong with you?”

  She mouths the words, You know.

  Oh my goodness. She just told me about this whole getting pregnant thing last week. Had she already done it?

  “I’m okay, y’all. Sunday, I’m gonna rinse my mouth out while you get your hair done.”

  Big D has a concerned look on his face, and then he frowns in Evan’s direction. Big D was never for Dreya going to live with Evan in New York City. And it didn’t even make sense anyway, because they are back in Atlanta every other week. I wonder if Evan is charging all these plane tickets against Dreya’s royalties.

  I trudge back over to the chair to finish getting glamor-fied. After Ron finishes my hair (which has enough bobby pins to set off a metal detector), the makeup artist, a girl named KiKi, sprays foundation and bronzer on my face.

  “Let that dry for a few minutes,” KiKi says.

  Anjelica brings me a white tube dress and red heels. The dress is over-the-top sexy, and not my style, but for some reason I feel like looking hot.

  When I squeeze myself into the tube dress, I realize how little it actually is. It makes me look like I have long legs and I kind of wish I had a robe or long coat. From the way Sam and DeShawn’s eyes bulge out, I’m guessing the desired effect was achieved.

  DeShawn whistles. “You look smokin’ hot, Sunday!”

  The photographer, a guy named Jacinto, starts moving people around in poses as I run over to the randomly placed furniture. The first pose has Big D in a big purple armchair with a crown and a cane looking like Notorious B.I.G.’s twin.

  “Girls, surround Big D. Make it seem like you want to call him big daddy,” Jacinto says.

  Dreya scrunches her nose. “Um, but we don’t want to call him that, so I’m sure I’m gonna look really fake on this picture.”

  This makes me burst into laughter, and Bethany crack a half-smile. Her former self would’ve been laughing too, but this overly medicated person obviously doesn’t have too many emotional outbursts.

  Jacinto takes a few shots while we’re getting ready, and then a few once we’re posed. Then, all of the guys pose together. Sam and Dilly stand back to back, and Evan and Big D sit in side by side thrones.

  “Try not to look like y’all are in prison,”
Jacinto says. “Can I have some softer facial expressions? I know y’all are hip hop and everything, but just don’t give me criminal.”

  Jacinto’s commentary is hilarious, and so on point, because I was totally thinking that they looked like one of those photos people take with their family members in prison. Especially Dilly and Sam with that back-to-back thing.

  “Now, I want Sunday and Drama together. I want Sunday to wear a crown and give me all that bubbly happiness she always brings, and Drama, you give her the side-eye whatever kind of look.”

  Dreya frowns. “Everyone always wants me to play the hater role. I don’t hate on Sunday.”

  Jacinto pauses and taps the side of his camera. “Just this once, I will accept feedback. Switch. Sunday, you play the hater in this one.”

  I smile, and hand Dreya the crown. I give so much attitude in my poses that Jacinto actually squeals. He’s loving it.

  “See, I told y’all Sunday was just a big ol’ hater!” Dreya says. “Look how well she does this.”

  “It’s called acting,” Big D says, “and Sunday is good at it. I think I’m going to have you audition for a few roles.”

  “I want to get the Reign Records Romances,” Jacinto says. “So, I’m going to pair Sam and Sunday, Evan and Drama and Bethany and Dilly.”

  “But Bethany and I aren’t together at all,” Dilly protests.

  “Sam and I are broken up,” I say, “so I don’t think that counts as a romance either.”

  Jacinto taps his camera again. “Bethany and Dilly will stand in a ‘baby, baby, please’ type of pose.”

  “What?” Dilly asks.

  “Get down on one knee and gaze up at her like you’re begging. Bethany, I want you to look indifferent. You don’t care about what he’s saying.”

  Well, that’s going to be easy for Bethany. She looks like she doesn’t care about anything at all right now. Dilly is fuming, but he plays along anyway.

  “Now, Dreya, I want you to sit in Evan’s lap, looking toward the ceiling with your back arched and one leg kicked up. Evan, you stare at her with longing in your eyes.”

  Evan laughs out loud. “She should be staring at my pocket with longing in her eyes.”

  “Are you saying I’m with you for your money?” Dreya asks.