by Nikki Carter
“Give me the Pappadeaux feast!” I say. “With an extra piece of catfish. Thank you!”
The waiter smiles at me and says, “I’ll put those orders right in for you. Would you like a basket of bread while you wait?”
Mystique says, “No. Just bring us our salads. We’ll have vinaigrette dressing.”
I laugh out loud. “She’ll have vinaigrette! I’ll have ranch. And bring the bread too, with extra butter.”
When the waiter walks away, Mystique says, “Shoop. Shoop.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“That’s the sound of your booty as it drags on the floor.”
I bust out laughing. “Don’t hate on my high metabolism.”
“Whatever. You’re just gonna give the bloggers yet another story to write about you! Sunday Tolliver gets gastric bypass! It’ll be right behind the other stories. Team Sam or Team DeShawn, who should get it? And Sunday Tolliver’s bestie has an accident in the VIP!”
I shake my head. “That was messed up they put that in the blogs.”
“Girl, please. They are trying to get that click rate up. Your girl shoulda been more careful. You never let someone hand you a drink.”
“Right. Sam slipped up like that too.”
Mystique smiles. “That’s the story he told you.”
“It’s not the truth?” I ask.
She takes a sip of her water before responding. “I’d just be careful about believing his stories. He’s really convincing, you know. But, I’m Team DeShawn, so I’m probably biased.”
“So why are you Team DeShawn? You don’t know him that well. What makes you pick him over Sam?”
“DeShawn is more your speed. He’s not industry, so you know, he’s gonna be able to show you another side of life that doesn’t have to do with music.”
“But Sam can understand everything that comes with the music. He gets me.”
“Do you really want your man to be in the business?”
I give Mystique a crazy look. “Your man is in the business. Everybody calls y’all a power couple.”
Then, it hits me. She doesn’t want me with Sam, because we would be too powerful together. The industry’s next “it” couple. And really, we’d be bigger than her and Zac. Zac is a good producer, but he’s nowhere near as good as Sam. Mystique isn’t a songwriter either. But Sam and I would have it all. We’d have songwriting, producing, and me as an artist. We’d be unstoppable.
“You have no idea what I’ve had to go through with Zac,” Mystique says. “That scene at the wedding was the tip of the iceberg with the groupies. I’d rather have a regular guy with a normal job. Not some dude who gets panties thrown at him.”
That’s what her mouth says. But there was nothing stopping her from finding someone regular. Nothing at all.
“So are you saying you’re not happy with Zac?” I ask.
“No, I’m not saying that. I just think it could be different for you. You could have what I don’t have.”
“What’s that?”
“Security. You won’t have to worry about where your man is, and what he’s doing. Sam’s already proven that he can’t be trusted. Him hooking up with that girl at the club should’ve been enough for you, but it wasn’t.”
I’m about to lay it all on the line now. “I heard you set that little encounter up. Is that true?”
“Who told you that, Sam?”
“I’ve heard it from multiple sources.”
I watch Mystique’s face go into thinking mode. She’s probably wondering how much I know, or what proof I have. I’m giving her nothing to go on with my expression. I’ve got the straight poker face on. The fact that it’s taking her this long to answer gives me all the proof I need.
“It’s not what you think, Sunday. I was testing him.”
This chick sounds absolutely bananas. “What do you mean, you were testing him?”
“I was trying to see whether or not he was worthy of you. If he fell for bait, then he wasn’t worthy. If he stood strong, then he was the one for you. It’s simple really.”
“How would you like me to test your man? Let’s see how Zac fares with some ecstasy in his system and a half-naked groupie in his lap. Let’s see if he passes.”
Mystique shakes her head. “I already know he’s a cheater. Zac and Sam are two peas in a pod. Why do you want the same drama that I have? I am trying to help you.”
I stand up to leave. I cannot look at this girl another second. “Don’t do me any more favors, Mystique. I’ll decide who I want to be with. You don’t get to control me.”
I storm out of the restaurant looking furious, and of course there’s a paparazzo right outside the door. Mystique can’t leave home without one, and apparently he followed us here.
“Hey, Sunday! How are you doing?” he asks.
“I’m good.”
“What’s the matter?” he asks. “You and Mystique have an argument?”
I roll my eyes at him. “How about this beautiful spring weather?” I ask.
He laughs out loud. “Okay, I see you don’t want to talk about that. So, do you have anything to say to your fans? Who’s winning? Is it Team DeShawn or Team Sam?”
“It’s Team Sunday all day every day.”
I rush past the paparazzo as he continues to snap pictures of me going to my car. I hope I swing my legs in correctly, or they’ll have pictures of my crotch online in the morning. That’s the worst part of this job. The cameras in my face, waiting to capture every emotion and every private moment.
I speed away from the restaurant and from Mystique’s friendship. She says that she’s trying to protect me from Sam, but I don’t believe her. I think that she is watching out for her throne. Guarding it.
That little girl Latia better be careful not to shine too hard, because if her light gets too bright Mystique is gonna try to stamp it out. She won’t get a chance to put my light out, though, because I’m done with her mentoring. She can choose to look at me as competition if she wants, but I choose to view her just as she is. An aging star on the way to supernova. Soon she’ll be nothing but a black space in time, swallowing up everyone around her.
And I’ll still be shining brightly.
20
Sam ended his visit early when he and Zac got a request to do some quick tracks for another Epsilon artist. He flew out to NYC this morning, along with Zac and Mystique on a private jet.
Evan and Dreya are gone too, on their own private jet. I wonder why they don’t all just chip in and fly together. Then, they wouldn’t have to spend so much money. They might not all make it there in one piece, but at least they would’ve saved thousands of dollars.
Almost as soon as they left town, I received a phone call from Lawrence Cohen. He was still in Atlanta after making an appearance at Big D’s party. He wants to meet with me for lunch at Astrid’s, a trendy, hip new restaurant in Buckhead, to discuss my future.
I know what this is, and I have no idea if I’m ready to have the conversation.
Lawrence beats me to the restaurant. I see his platinum-blond hair as soon as I step through the door.
This place is extra fabulous. They have valet parking only and there’s a dress code. I’m glad I had enough sense to wear something nice.
The hostess looks me up and down as if I don’t belong here. Guess they don’t have too many college kids come here for lunch, and she looks a little old for music videos and reality shows. Now that I think about it, it’s kind of refreshing not being recognized. There aren’t too many places in Atlanta where I can go incognito, so I’m happy to have found this place.
“May I help you?” the hostess asks.
“My party is already here,” I say and I nod over in Lawrence’s direction.
“You’re meeting Mr. Cohen?” she asks with disbelief in her tone.
“Yes.”
“Right this way then, ma’am.”
Oh, so now I’m a ma’am. I like the sound of that. It sounds like respect.
As we approach the table, Lawrence stands and smiles like a true Southern gentleman even though he’s from New York. He gives me a hug when I get to the table.
“You look beautiful, Sunday!”
I laugh out loud. He’s laying it on a little thick. I put on a nice blouse and a straight black skirt. And I combed my hair up into a neat bun. I absolutely look presentable, but not at all beautiful.
“Thanks, Lawrence. You look nice too.”
Lawrence stares me down as he holds the chair out for me to sit, and he doesn’t take his eyes off me until he sits down on his side of the table. I thought this lunch meeting was about the label, but he’s looking at me like he wants to eat me for lunch. Maybe I should’ve brought Sam along.
“So what do you think of the tracks on Dilly’s CD?” Lawrence asks.
“I think they’re tight. He is talented though, so I’m not surprised. I’m just happy his career is not falling by the wayside.”
“I know. His brother came to me and convinced me to hook up with Big D. I’m glad they did.”
“I’m surprised y’all didn’t ask me to do a feature.”
Actually, I’m more than surprised. My feelings are somewhat hurt, especially since I helped put Dilly on the map and all.
“Well, we wanted Evan to warm up to the idea of Big D’s label before we started asking the Reign Records artists to start doing appearances on our projects.”
“Nothing in my contract would keep me from helping my friend on his record.”
Lawrence’s smile beams. “I’m glad to hear you say that, Sunday.”
Uh-oh. That feels like a setup for something.
“Is Evan your friend?” Lawrence asks.
I knew he was leading up to something! I take a long pause to consider the question. Evan’s position on my friend list is questionable. I’m not sure if I can say that and actually mean it. He is a family member though, so I’ll just roll with that.
“Are you going to ask me to do something that a friend would consider betrayal?”
The waitress comes to our table and Lawrence grins at her. She returns his grin with every flirtatious gaze. He must be known in here to be a man of long dough.
“Would you like your usual, Mr. Cohen?”
“No, sweetie. I think it might be a little early for my Grey Goose and cranberry juice. How about a cup of hot tea?”
“And what would you like, miss?”
“The same with extra sugar and honey, please.”
After jotting down our orders, the girl drops her pen on the floor in front of our table. Lawrence reaches for it, but she stops him.
“I’ll get it, Mr. Cohen,” she says.
Then, instead of picking up the pen like a lady would, she bends over at the waist, giving Lawrence a full view of her behind and even a peek at her thong. Thirsty much?
Lawrence laughs as soon as she’s out of earshot.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, about to crack up myself.
“She’s been trying that for the last six months. Every time I visit she drops that pen.”
I shrug. “Butterfingers?”
Lawrence throws his head back and laughs even harder. “Yeah, I guess. She wants a baller, so you know. . . .”
“Ugh. You gonna give her some play?”
“Nah. She’s not poised enough for me. She uses cheap shampoo and she bites her nails.”
“Okay, so the nails are obvious, but how in the heck do you know she uses cheap shampoo?”
“Her hair is dull and stringy, not to mention she’s got split ends.”
“Dang! You saw all that?”
“Some guys like body parts. I like hair. Yours is very nice and healthy by the way.”
I don’t want to burst Lawrence’s bubble, but I use whatever shampoo they have at the dollar store down the street from campus. I’ll just go ahead and let him think he’s a hair expert!
Lawrence leans forward in his seat and looks me directly in the eye. “I’m sure you already know why we’re here.”
“I suspect it has something to do with this rumor that you’re going to offer me a deal with Epsilon if I leave Reign Records.”
Lawrence nods. “The rumor mill is correct for once. What do you think about that?”
“Well, I think if y’all have beef with Evan, that y’all shouldn’t involve the rest of us. Why do we have to choose?”
“It’s not about beef with Evan. He’s gone against the wishes of the label owners, and they are done with his impertinence. Reign Records is done whether you all decide to stay or not. I’m giving you an opportunity to get something out of this. If you switch over now there will be incentives that won’t be available if you wait for Reign Records to fold on its own.”
“What kinds of incentives?”
“Signing bonus. Bigger marketing budget with your next release, and we’ll pick up the tab for some stuff that usually comes out of your check, like studio sessions, road trips, etc.”
“If Bethany and I leave Reign, then what happens to my cousin? I’d like to get some incentives for her.”
Lawrence shakes his head. “Do you really think Evan is going to let his wife stay with Epsilon when we’re giving him the boot? Plus, she’s not Epsilon material. We want artists who are attractive to sponsors. She’s too hood.”
“And Truth? What’s attractive to sponsors about him?”
“Have you noticed that he’s completely changed his image? Do you think that Drama would do the same? Do you think she’d become more like you if we asked her to? And if she did become more like you, why would we need her? She’d be a less talented version of you, and she doesn’t have the crossover appeal that Bethany has.”
I try to gauge Lawrence’s face for anything that might be personal against Dreya, but I can’t see anything that looks vindictive. He seems all business when it comes to her, as if he has no choice but to make the decision he made.
“And you’re sure that this has nothing to do with Mystique being threatened by Dreya?”
Lawrence chuckles. “I won’t lie to you, Sunday. That has a lot to do with it. Mystique makes us more money than any of our artists. We’d be fools not to keep her happy, especially when it is concerning someone that means very little to the label right now.”
“What if Mystique decides she wants me gone? Or Bethany? You’re just going to keep dropping artists because she’s insecure?”
“We’ve got plans to make you and Bethany big earners just like Mystique. She knows that, and she knows how far her influence goes. She knows that we still cut the checks at the end of the day.”
So Epsilon is only willing to get rid of Dreya because they don’t really want her anyway. Hmmm . . . I see that Mystique’s influence has limits. I wonder if she knows this. If not, she sure as heck won’t learn it from me.
“How long do I have to make a decision?” I ask.
“You’re still not sure?”
“Not sure about leaving my cousin out in the cold when she’s trying to promote her record? No, I’m not sure about that.”
“I’m making you this offer now, Sunday, because I like you, but I can’t promise that it’ll be here a few months from now when everything starts to unravel.”
So first the offer, then the threat. Looks like Lawrence is the good cop and the bad cop in this situation.
“Why don’t we just enjoy lunch today? I will let you know my decision.”
Unfortunately for Lawrence, I don’t suffer from insecurity like Mystique. I know my worth, and I am not going to let them force me to make a decision I might regret. I may very well leave Reign Records, but it’s going to be because Evan has completely lost his mind.
“You’re a tough cookie,” Lawrence says as our waitress comes back with our drinks.
I reply with a smile. “That’s funny. Big D used to say that to me all the time when we first started out.”
“Well, he was right. I wish I knew myself as well when I was your age. I’d p
robably have my own company by now instead of trying to run my father’s.”
“You’re doing a good job, Lawrence. You’ve got the biggest star in pop music on your label.”
Lawrence’s lips spread into a smile. “Not yet. But I’m working on it.”
I smile back. Lawrence sure knows what to say to a girl. Sounds like we need to start a new battle. Team Lawrence versus Team Evan. And team Lawrence has a big head start.
21
“Come on, DeShawn, let’s go running,” I say as I stretch out in my newly purchased sweats and sneakers.
DeShawn sits on the couch, looking completely unmotivated. He looks at me suspiciously, and shakes his head. “You do not want to go running. What’s going on with you?”
“I can’t want to go exercise with my friend? You like running, so I’m gonna go running.”
“You couldn’t even get to the corner without your chest exploding. What do you really want?”
I put my hands on my hips and pout. DeShawn has been sulking around the house ever since Sam became an Internet sensation. I’m sure he’s seen the video, but we haven’t talked about it. I’m sure someone in the house mentioned how tight me and Sam were at Big D’s party, and well . . . Sam was cooking breakfast at my house.
DeShawn already knows what it is, but I don’t think he really wants to have the conversation.
“Okay, I’m busted,” I say. “I don’t really want to run, but I do want to talk to you for a minute.”
He chuckles. “Really? You do? Whatever could you want to talk about?”
“Come on, DeShawn. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”
“It’s hard for you? Wow. It’s a lot harder for me than it is for you, I think.”
I take a seat next to DeShawn and he moves over to make sure we don’t touch. Ouch. That hurts, but I guess I understand.
“DeShawn, you know when you give a person an ultimatum . . .”
“Yeah, I know. If I had to put it to you like that then it was a huge possibility you weren’t going to choose me.”
“It has nothing to do with you. You are an incredible person. If I had met you first, I would’ve never even looked at Sam.”
