Not A Good Look (15 page)

M
y stomach does flip-flops as I sit in the living room with my mother, Big D, and Sam. I didn't get much sleep last night, wondering how all this was gonna go down. I even got up and made my mom orange, mint, and honey tea, and biscuits out of the can to butter her up. The record deal needs to happen now, if I want to go to college and graduate debt free.

My mom reads through the thick stack of papers with a serious expression on her face. My leg won't stop bouncing up and down. This whole thing depends on whether or not she signs the contract.

When I told my mom that Mystique wanted to pay me and Sam $50,000 for our song, and promised royalties on the back end, she had to sit down. She didn't believe it at first. I'm still not sure if she believes it.

Shoot! I don't even know if I believe it.

“Is this what you really want, Sunday?” she finally asks.

I nod. “Mom, you know I love music…”

“Yes, I know, but you've been talking about college for so long, and now this?”

“I'm still going to college.”

“Ms. Tolliver, if I might explain,” Big D says. “Mystique has agreed to Sunday recording her album right here in Atlanta. She can attend class during the week and record on the weekends.”

“When will she do her homework, study for exams, go to parties?” my mother asks.

Since when did she care if I went to parties?

“Mom, just look at it like I'm working my way through school. I can do this!”

“And this Mystique is reputable?” she asks Big D.

“She's the real deal, Ms. Tolliver. I wouldn't be so excited about this if she wasn't. She heard Sunday's voice and was completely mesmerized.”

“And when will she promote the record? I know that's important, too, right?”

“Ms. Tolliver, you are asking all the right questions! You're a natural stage mom.”

My mother laughs out loud. “Well, I just want to make sure no one takes advantage of my daughter, and if she decides to do this, I want her to be successful. She's way too talented to be a one-hit wonder.”

“You're right,” Big D says. “She'll be much bigger than that. But to answer your question about promotion, she'll be going on tour this summer with Dreya on the Truth and Drama tour. She'll open the show.”

“But her album won't be finished by then, will it?”

“Maybe not, but we'll have a few singles ready, and it'll get her name out there.”

My mom cocks her head to the side as if she's deep in thought. “So she'll get to promote her records during the summer and go to school during the rest of the year?”

“That's the plan!” Big D says.

Aunt Charlie, who's been sitting on the couch the whole time listening to the conversation, gets a twisted expression on her face.

“I don't hear you sounding this crunk when you talking about Drama's career,” she says to Big D.

“Drama is going to be a success, too, Ms. Tolliver.”

“Yeah, you better make sure you don't forget it. She's the one who got y'all here. Sunday wouldn't be gettin' any holler if it wasn't for my baby.”

“Actually, Ms. Tolliver,” Big D says, “we have Sunday to thank for a lot of this. We've worked together as a team, and Sunday doesn't owe Drama anything.”

Dreya comes up the hallway looking crustier than a mug, wrapped in a comforter, with her spiky hair mashed on one side. There's a trail of spit going across the side of her face, and her smudged eyeliner is making her look like a raccoon. And…she looks like her breath stinks.

“Did I hear you say that Sunday was opening for me and Truth on the summer tour?” Dreya asks in a husky, scratchy-sounding voice.

“Yes, you did.”

“How can she do that when she doesn't even have a record deal? I don't want her on my tour. It's the Truth and Drama tour.”

Big D frowns. “You don't get to make that decision, Drama. Epsilon Records along with their sponsors are doing this tour. Mystique wants Sunday on it, and what Mystique wants she gets.”

“Mystique?” Dreya asks. “What does she have to do with anything? How does she know Sunday? It sounds like y'all been doing stuff behind my back.”

“You're tripping!” I say. “Why do you think I need to tell you about my opportunities? I don't answer to you.”

“You're supposed to be my assistant, not my competition,” Dreya whines.

Big D says, “Listen. There's room enough for the both of you. Y'all sounds are completely different. Sunday's got that neo-soul vibe, and you're all hip-hop / pop. Actually, y'all complement one another.”

“Well, I don't want Epsilon Records to sign her. She needs to get a record deal somewhere else,” Dreya growls.

“Sorry, hon. Mystique picked her out personally to be the first artist on her label, Mystical Sounds. You don't have more pull than Mystique,” Big D says.

Dreya turns her frown toward me. “You couldn't let me have this one thing, could you? You had to find a way to come up off of my come-up. I hate you!”

She storms out of the room, leaving a trail of hot, stanky breath behind her. It's whatever, though.

“What were we talking about before we were rudely interrupted?” I ask. “I'm ready to finalize this, Mom. What do you think?”

“I think I don't know about you being a celebrity in college. That's gonna make it really hard for you to figure out who wants to be your real friend and who just wants to be with you for the fame.”

“I'm not worried about that, Mom. I'm a good judge of character,” I reply.

My mother gives me a motherly smile. “You've got it all figured out, don't you?”

“Not everything, but I've thought about it, yeah.”

My mother sighs. “Well, I guess since your college fund is gone, and that's my fault, I'm not going to stand in your way on this. But I want them to have a chaperone on tour.”

Big D laughs. “A chaperone? They haven't done that since the seventies.”

“Those are my rules,” my mom says. “If you can't make that happen, I'm not signing this.”

“Okay, okay. A chaperone. I'll make it happen. Got anyone in mind?”

“No, but I'd like for it to be an older woman.”

I cover my mouth to quiet my laugh at the frustrated look on Big D's face. My mother's making him jump through hoops to get this deal signed. I already know she's gonna sign it, but he's still working hard.

“Okay, Ms. Tolliver. I can do that. Can you please sign the papers before I go into cardiac arrest?”

“Sure, I'll sign it now.”

As I watch my mother sign her name in her big, curly handwriting, I feel the butterflies start all over again. It's really going to happen! I'm a recording artist.

The only thing that makes me feel a little bit irritated is Dreya's reaction to this. I can't believe that she wouldn't be happy for me. I was happy for her! I even wrote her some hot songs to make her stuff successful. Why would she be like that toward me?

I guess blood ain't thicker than benjamins.

“O
h, my God! It's Drama!”

The worst thing that has happened since the tour and the appearance on
106 & Park
is the screaming. The constant screaming of girls who used to mean mug in the hallway and now either want my autograph or want to be my friend because I'm Dreya's cousin.

I try to navigate through the majority of the ninth grade (the freshmen are the worst for some reason) to get to my locker. I've got much classwork to make up because of the few days I took off to do the tour.

“Back away from Drama!” Bethany says. “She's got to get to class.”

I laugh quietly inside at Bethany's brand-new bodyguard duties. Yeah, I didn't actually laugh out loud. It wasn't amusing enough for all that. All laughter took place on the inside.

What's even funnier is how the kids back up like Bethany has some pepper spray or a water hose. They don't even fall back like that when the security guards bring the pain.

“Before I go to class, I'll sign two autographs, but you have to show me that you have Truth's single downloaded to your iPod or phone,” Dreya says, totally not ready to trade in her adoring fans for class.

Fifty kids start waving cell phones and iPods, trying to get her attention, and she grabs the closest two. Once she's checked their gadgets for the song, she signs a little slip of paper and the back of a notebook. A few flashes come from digital cameras, which aren't even allowed in school. Where is a hall monitor when you need one?

I would feel like a hater on the inside if I didn't know that Dreya doesn't want me to blow up, too. She doesn't want me to have adoring fans, tours, or autograph signings. So it doesn't matter that she's getting on my nerves right now. It is what it is.

Just when I thought I couldn't be any more disgusted by this entire scene, Romell slides up behind Bethany the bouncer and kisses her on the neck. He's still got a bandage on his head from his concussion, but I guess the head injury hasn't bothered his mack game.

“How does it feel to have a celebrity for a cousin?” Katrina, a freshman, asks.

I shrug. “I don't know. My cousin isn't really a celebrity yet.”

Katrina frowns. “You should just be happy for her. I saw you on
106 & Park,
too. You wouldn't have been on TV if it wasn't for her.”

I want to stand on top of some lockers and scream at the top of my lungs,
The only reason Dreya has a record deal is because of a song I wrote!!!!!!

Would that be terrible if I did that? Would it make me seem like even more of a hater? I don't know, but her groupies are getting out of control.

Instead of having a hollering tirade I say to Katrina, “You're right. I am happy for Dreya. I think she's really going to go far.”

Katrina's frown turns upside down. “That's more like it! I knew you weren't a hater.”

I roll my eyes as she prances away over to Dreya's adoring groupie circle. The first bell rings to signal that we have two minutes left to get to class, and the crowd starts to disperse and head in different directions.

I rush into honors English and take a seat next to Margit. She snatches up her high ponytail and straightens it. I smile, because this is Margit's signal that she's about to tell me something.

“You just missed it, Sunday. Mrs. Silo just walked Brandon down to the office. He cursed at her and said he wasn't doing any more essays this semester.”

“What? He's crazy. He does know this is honors English, right? Essays are like mandatory.”

“I know, right? But he got Ds on his last couple papers. If he gets another bad grade, he's gonna be off the basketball team.”

“He's gonna be off if he keeps calling teachers cuss words.”

Margit squints and her eyes turn into tiny slits. She flings her long brown hair to one side and leans over to my desk. “I saw you on
106 & Park!
Yay. Is your cousin gonna be a huge star?”

“Not you, too, Margit!”

Can I just have one friend that isn't caught up in this Drama mess?

“You know I really don't listen to rap, but that song is kinda hot! You and Bethany looked good, too, though.”

“Thank you.”

“Y'all still can't hang with my girl Taylor Swift, though,” Margit says with a smile.

“Okay. I'll take that under advisement.”

“You're such a nerd, Sunday,” Margit says with a giggle.

“So are you! You are sitting next to me in honors English, right?”

“Yeah, I guess. Oh, I got my acceptance letter to Alabama State. My dad is going to be so happy. He played football there.”

My eyes light up. “Congratulations! I'm going to Spelman; got my early acceptance letter, too.”

“Spelman? I don't know if I could survive no boys on campus.”

“There are boys all over the place. The Morehouse men are right across the way.”

“I guess. I heard Romell is going to Georgia Tech.”

“I don't care about him. I'm going to prom with a guy over at DSA.”

“Dish! You haven't told me about any new boyfriend prospects. Is he hot?”

“He's kinda hot, but he's more sweet than anything. And he's talented.”

Margit frowns. “So he's not cute, huh?”

“Yes! But he's got that kind of cute that grows on you.”

Margit nods. “Gotcha. Starts out kinda ug, but turns on swagger later.”

“Yeah,” I chuckle. “Something like that.”

“Well, that's cool. Am I gonna get to meet him? You haven't been hanging out much lately.”

“You'll get to meet him at prom.”

“How do you know you'll still be digging him then?”

I shrug. “I hope I am, or then I'll be hunting for a prom date in the tuba section of the marching band.”

Margit scrunches her nose. “No, thank you. At least pick a drummer or trumpet player. The tuba boys are always extra large.”

“They have to be big to hold up all that metal!”

“No, no, and no. I don't like this mental picture. Hurry and draw me another one.”

“Ha, girl. Whatever. Here comes Mrs. Silo.”

Wouldn't it be cool if you could just erase situations like you can erase a mental picture? If I could, I'd erase Bethany and Romell flossing in my face. I'd erase Carlos getting shot, and I'd erase Dreya all up out of my come-up.

Yeah, someone needs to invent this mess eraser! Pronto!

“C
ongratulations, Sunday. You stay surprising everybody,” Truth says as we chill in the lounge at the studio.

“What you surprised about?” I ask.

“That record deal with Mystique. We on tour and you and Sam having little creep-move meetings with Big D.”

“It wasn't a creep move. We wrote a song for her and Big D set up the meeting.”

“Well, y'all didn't tell anybody it was going down,” Truth says.

I'm trying to figure out what I hear in his tone. Is he mad, jealous, or what? His face is smiling, but his eyes are definitely doing something else.

“The record deal was totally unexpected. Sam and I were just trying to sell her this song we wrote for her.”

“It's cool, hustla. You came up.”

“Thanks. Your girlfriend isn't happy, though.”

“She'll get over it. Shoot, we can all eat.”

I give Truth a fist bump. “I'm saying! There's enough room for everybody.”

“Y'all don't even do the same kind of music, so I can't believe she hatin' like that.”

“She's tripping for real. She tried to tell Big D that she didn't want me on the tour.”

“He told me. I got on her about that. You always supposed to have love for your fam when they come up. I don't know what's wrong with her.”

Dreya and Big D walk into the room, so Truth and I end our conversation. But not before Dreya caught the tail end.

“You don't know what's wrong with who?” Dreya asks.

Truth laughs. “G'on 'head girl, with all that drama. I ain't in the mood.”

Big D holds his hands up. “Time out, y'all. I got some good news about the tour.”

Dreya plops down on the couch next to Truth. “The tour that Sunday is crashing?”

“No,” Big D says, “the tour that Epsilon Records invited her to join. Stop tripping, girl.”

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes at me and flips me the bird. Wow.

“After the crowd went crazy for y'all on
106 & Park,
BET decided to do a reality show on y'all tour. They're sending a camera crew with y'all to every city.”

Truth jumps up and hugs Big D. “That's what's up!”

“Wow! That's hot,” I say. “We're gonna be hood stars, like
Tiny & Toya
and
The Real Housewives.
”

Dreya laughs. “You wish you had it going on like Tiny and Toya.”

“I'm good, my family's good, mmm-hmm,” I say in my Tiny voice.

Everybody laughs, including Dreya.

“This is hot, especially for you, Sunday, since you'll be in college next fall and can't really do a lot of promo work. They're gonna show reruns of the show all summer, so by the time your album comes out, you'll be a household name.”

“We hope,” I say.

“Well, it'll happen as long as y'all don't do nothing crazy on tour like get arrested,” Big D says.

“So that means I probably shouldn't let my boys roll with us on tour, right?” Truth asks.

“Naw! Your boys have got to roll. Just make sure them cats ain't riding dirty,” Big D replies.

Dreya says, “I don't like those reality shows. It's like they try to paint a picture of a person that's not for real. Like I can't believe NeNe on
Real Housewives
is really that full of drama.”

“They can only put it on TV if you do it,” I say. “So don't act like your usual hating self on the road, and you should be cool.”

“Shut up, Sunday.”

“Speaking of painting pictures, I think y'all need to capitalize off that love triangle stuff that the blogs started,” Big D says.

“What do you mean?” Dreya asks.

“I mean y'all know what's up, so it won't hurt nobody if y'all play that up a bit. Let them think something is really going on.”

Dreya holds up one hand. “I don't even think so. I don't want anybody thinking that my man would want
her
. That's not even believable anyway.”

“I think it would be funny,” Truth says. “It would definitely have people talking.”

“You would want us to do it,” Dreya hisses at Truth. “So everybody could think you're some kind of player or something. I don't think so.”

“Is anybody gonna ask me what I think?” Sam asks, appearing upstairs from his music lab.

“Why somebody gotta ask you?” Dreya asks. “This doesn't have anything to do with you. You aren't Sunday's boyfriend! As far as I'm concerned, you don't even really have to go on this tour. One less person on the payroll.”

“Sunday, you ain't got nothing to say?” Sam asks.

I throw up a hand. “Wait a minute. Y'all don't even need to argue about that, because I'm not doing it. I'm not down with deception. I believe reality should be exactly that—real.”

Big D shrugs. “Give it some thought. Y'all got months before it even goes down.”

Seriously, Big D? Did you not hear anything we just said?

I don't need to give it any more thought. There is no way anyone would believe I wanted to hook up with Truth. They'd be calling our little show all kinds of fake.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Big D says. “Sunday, tell your mother that Epsilon Records hired a chaperone. It's Mystique's mother—the fashion designer, Ms. Layla. She does all of Mystique's tour outfits, and this could help her launch her fashion line.”

I'm speechless. No, really. I'm utterly speechless.

“I hope she doesn't think I'm wearing any of that tacky stuff,” Dreya says. “You'll never catch me in a sequined anything.”

“What about you, Sunday?” Big D asks.

“I am not an enemy to sequins, but I would not consider myself their friend.”

Truth bursts into laughter. “Don't even look at me.”

“Well,
somebody
is going to be wearing Ms. Layla's costumes. We'll figure all that out later.”

This tour / reality show sounds like it's going to be a fiasco. Love triangles, sequins, and hateration galore. I'm so excited!

“My girl Bethany's going, right?” Dreya asks.

Her girl? Bethany's moved up in status from her personal slave to her girl? That's too funny.

“I guess she can come,” Big D says, “but are you sure she's your girl? I remember not too long ago, y'all was about to bug right here in the studio.”

“That makes for good reality TV,” Truth replies. “If they start fighting we can just throw some baby oil on them, and they'll look like video vixens in a rap video.”

I shake my head, while Sam cracks up laughing. And of course Big D is standing up here pondering the possibilities.

“Bethany and I will not be fighting. I know she's got my back,” Dreya says.

Okay, now I'm cracking up, too. I guess they're besties now because they have a common enemy—me.

But it's only a matter of time before Dreya finds out about who's really her enemy, and who's doin' her boyfriend.