Time to Shine (20 page)

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Authors: Nikki Carter

BOOK: Time to Shine
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22
M
y mother's heels click sharply as she walks through my new house. She's going with me to sign the closing papers today, but this is her first time seeing the space at all. I have purposely kept her from the house, because I don't want to hear her complaints.
“This house is twenty years old. Did you get it inspected?” My mom says after walking through the downstairs rooms.
“I did get an inspection, Mom. Actually, my Realtor suggested that I get two, so I did.”
“I don't suppose I can get you to change your mind, huh? You are determined to be a landlady to your ragtag group of friends.”
“Why you gotta talk about my friends?” I ask.
My mother ignores my question and ascends the stairs. I know that her issue is not with my friends. She actually happens to like them.
“Where are the boys going to be?”
“They'll be in the rooms down the hall to the right.”
She clears her throat. “Do I need to have another sex talk with you?”
This makes me burst into laughter. “No, Mom.”
“I don't want y'all getting impregnated at high rates in this house.”
“Mom, we are not getting pregnant! More than half of us are virgins.”
“Are you in that half?” she says over the staircase.
“None of your business.”
My mother stops in her tracks, spins on one heel and starts back down the stairs. “What did you say to me?”
“I was kidding! Yes, Mom. I'm one of the virgins!”
“I don't know what to believe with Dreya walking around with a gut full of human.”
“I'm not Dreya, Mom.”
The doorbell rings, and I run over to answer it. It's Big D and Sam. They're here to look at the space in my mother-in-law suite that I'm converting to a studio. I want to get started working on that as soon as possible.
“Hey, y'all,” I say as I swing the door open.
“Sunday, this place is incredible,” Sam says. “Congratulations.”
“It is, isn't it?” I say with a smile.
Big D gives me his signature bear hug and spins me around. “Baby girl, I'm so proud of you. You're moving your crew in too, like a baby Zillionaire or something.”
“What crew? Your homegirls from campus?”
“Yeah, and the guys too.”
“What guys?” Sam asks, his voice taking on a protective tone.
I ignore his tone. “Ricky, Kevin, DeShawn. They're paying me rent.”
“Does your mother know about this?” Sam asks.
My mom pokes her head out from one of the bedrooms. “Yes, her mother knows about this. It's her house. I can't tell her who to move in.”
“Is he sharing a bedroom with you?” Sam asks.
“Uh! Get some business, Sam! You are not here to interrogate me about my living arrangements. You're here to tell me how to build my recording studio.”
I lead a chuckling Big D and a fuming Sam through the back screen doors, past my pool oasis and into the small cottage where I plan on making the rest of my music.
Sam surveys the space by walking back and forth and counting paces on the floor. He knocks on the walls, measures the biggest room, and then gazes down at the hardwood floors.
“It's perfect for a studio,” Sam mutters. “But why do you want a recording studio anyway? What's wrong with the lab?”
“Yeah, what's wrong with my spot?” Big D asks. “You about to leave us? Go out on your own?”
“No, not at all, but I want to start producing my own tracks.”
Sam folds his arms across his chest and leans on the wall. “You want to be a producer, a songwriter, and a singer. Dang, girl! Can somebody else eat?”
“Yeah, but this is also part of my business plan. I'm going to be selling studio time too.”
“Oh, she's a mogul in the making, Big D. Watch out, she's coming for you and Evan,” Sam says.
“Can you please put your hateration in check, Sam? Or are you still mad that DeShawn might see me in my underwear?”
“You think I care if you're going to be a sugar mama to some broke model?”
My mouth drops open. “A sugar mama? You are out of line, Sam.”
“No. You are! I've done everything possible to get you back, and you won't even hear me out.”
“Sam . . .” Big D says.
“No, Big D, let him talk! He thinks he can do whatever he wants with whomever he wants, and that I'll just forgive it all.”
“The rumors of my exploits have been greatly exaggerated!”
I shake my head and laugh. “It's not the rumors that broke us up, Sam. It was your lies. How often do you see Rielle, huh? Do you hang out with her every time you're in town? Do you take her on shopping sprees?”
“When are you going to get off of that, Sunday?”
“Never! I'm never going to get off of that. Don't you see? I've moved on. You should too.”
Sam pulls . . . no, snatches me into his arms and crushes his lips down on mine. I roughly push him away.
“Does that feel like I've moved on, Sunday? All I think about is you. I don't even go out anymore. All I do is work, because I can't stop thinking about you. I've got a thousand tracks I'll never use, because you're not going to write the songs to them!”
“I see you have a lot of regrets, Sam, but how do I know you won't do this again?”
Sam takes my hand, gently this time. “Stop
thinking
so much! It's not about what you know! It's about what you feel.”
“Sorry, Sam. I can't put myself in that situation again. I just can't.” I let go of Sam's hand and take several steps backward, widening the gap of space between us.
Big D kisses me on the forehead and says, “Come on, Sam. We need to go. Sunday, you have a beautiful house. I'm proud of you, girl. We'll let ourselves out.”
“Sunday, please . . .”
I can't deal with Sam pleading with me. “Sam, let me go! Let us go!”
Sam's eyes look glossy, but no tears fall. His face bears a grim expression as he follows Big D out of my cottage.
Breaking up is hard enough, but when it's like this, it's impossible. Every time I see Sam it's like we break up all over again. The feelings and emotions are the same, and it feels as raw as it did the first time we said good-bye.
I step out of the cottage and call out. “Sam!”
He turns with a hopeful look on his face. This stabs me in the heart. “Yes?”
“Don't come here again. Stay away from me. We can't get over each other if we keep dealing with each other.”
“You're not over me yet?” Sam asks, and even still the hope is there.
“I don't know if I'm over you, Sam. It doesn't mean that I want us to get back together, though, because I don't.”
I hear these words come out of my mouth, and for once, I am convinced they are true. I don't want to go back with Sam. Trust is no longer a part of that situation.
“What are we going to do about Drama's record?” Sam asks.
“We're almost done with it anyway.”
Sam nods and storms off, with Big D behind him. And why am I crying again, like the very first time Sam hurt me?
Yeah. Breaking up is the hardest thing ever. Especially when only one person wants to walk away.
23
I
've got to admit when Evan asked me to meet with him I was a little suspicious. Okay, I was a lot suspicious, but with good reason. I've not really had a good track record with Dreya's men. Her last real boyfriend tried to push up on me and got knocked out by Sam, so when Evan reached out to me for an alone meeting, at dinner no less, it made me wonder.
I'm sitting across the table from Evan at Justin's Restaurant trying to read his mind. He looks on edge, so I've got some nervous anticipation of whatever whammy he's going to drop. The look on his face tells me he's got something on his mind.
“I bet you're wondering why I invited you here.”
“Not really,” I lie. “I think you heard Dreya's record and you want to congratulate me on another hit.”
Evan chuckles. “Sunday, I love your confidence.”
“Thanks, Evan, but something tells me you're not here to shower me with compliments.”
“I'm here to ask a favor of you.”
I knew his true purpose would emerge. “Okay. Out with it.”
“Will you do a summer tour with Drama? With her being pregnant, she's going to have to promote her new record well in advance of the release date. We're putting out a single at the beginning of March.”
“Dang, that's in a few weeks.”
“Exactly.”
I groan. I had imagined summer, on the beach in Florida. Hanging with my friends, dancing, partying, and drinking non-alcoholic beverages. Maybe watching a movie or two and pigging out on fried chicken, pizza, and cheese fries. You know, a real break. Touring is hard work, and I've been working enough for ten people. I need some rest!
“There's a rumor going around that Epsilon Records is dropping Dreya from the label, so why would they put money behind her to fund a tour?”
Evan's eyes widen as if he's surprised that I have this information. I expect him to ask me to reveal my source, which I will refuse to do.
“They aren't putting the money up. I am.”
This is an interesting turn of events. I didn't expect Evan to have Dreya's back like this. From what she told me it seemed like Evan was almost in on the whole getting-her-dropped-from-Epsilon thing; now he's taking on an out-of-pocket tour.
Evan continues, “I see the confusion on your face, so let me explain. Even though Epsilon is pulling out of Drama's future, I still believe she has what it takes to be a star. If I have to release her independently, I will.”
“And the marriage? Is that for real or is that a publicity stunt?”
Evan pauses for a long time before responding. “It's not a stunt. Is she the love of my life? Nah, probably not, but she's carrying my child, and that means something to me.”
“And if she sells a lot of records, pictures from the wedding and photos of your royal baby . . . ?”
“It's all good. Money in the bank. If it doesn't work out between us, we can go our separate ways. No harm, no foul.”
I don't know about the no harm, no foul part. Who knows how that's going to affect her if they end up divorced? He's making it sound like some kind of business proposition and she's thinking it's a fairy tale. Her knight in shining armor is wearing money green, 'cause that's all he seems to care about.
“Even if I did say yes to a tour, I don't really have anything to promote. I haven't even started working on my next record.”
“Well, Bethany would go with you as well. You all could sing the collaborations off your records and do some new material or old. I really don't care. I just want you all billed on the flyers.”
“What about Dilly?”
“He's not ready yet. You three are already legitimate stars. If there's anyone that I may drop from the Reign label it's Dilly. I trust that you won't say anything about that.”
Ugh! I can't stand when people drop secrets on me without warning. Dilly is my friend, and apparently, I'm still his prom date. Now that I know that his career is in danger, should I suggest he start applying to colleges?
“I won't say anything.”
“The tour would be mostly on the East Coast. We're going to do a contest for those who purchase a download of her single at the concerts. They'll be able to win an autographed concert T-shirt and some other stuff that won't cost us anything.”
“So this is about driving the sales for Dreya's single.”
“For the most part.”
“What's in it for me?”
“You'll get paid a percentage of ticket sales. You are the top-billed artist on the tour, so you'll get ten percent of the sales, Dreya will get five percent and Bethany will receive two and a half percent.”
A wide grin spreads across my face. “You sure know the way to my heart, don't you?”
“Yep, it's through your pocket.”
“I'm a homeowner now, so I could use all the extra money I can get.”
Evan smiles. “I heard. Congratulations! I hope that my fiancée and I are invited to the housewarming party.”
“You sure are. I'm registered at Macy's, so make sure you bring something nice.”
“Sunday . . . can I ask you a question?”
I take a sip of my soda and reply, “Sure, but I won't promise to answer.”
“Do you trust me yet?”
That is a question with a very complex answer. If he's asking about music and the industry, I'd have to say that my trust of him is growing, but not yet confirmed. If he's talking about with Dreya's heart, I'm going to have to say a big fat no.
“How about you don't give me a reason not to trust you? Then I think we'll be okay.”
“You're one tough cookie, Sunday.”
I give him another smile. “I have been called much worse.”
Suddenly, Evan narrows his eyes and glares across the restaurant. He makes a quick hand motion to Leo, who's sitting at the next table. The big, brawny dude jumps up and moves across the restaurant so quickly that he reminds me of a mountain lion.
Leo stops in front of a table full of garden-variety groupie chicks. He snatches the cell phone from the one in the middle, presses some buttons, and then hands it back to her.
“Hey, that's my personal property!” the girl screams loud enough for half of the restaurant to hear her.
Leo says something back to her, but he says it quietly, and the girl gets up and follows him to our table. Leo sits back down, relaxed now, but ready to pounce again if the command is given. I need a bodyguard like him.
The girl stands in front of Evan with her legs akimbo and her hands on her very curvy hips. “What do you want with me, Evan?”
“If you had wanted to take a picture of me, all you had to do was ask, Tina.”
She sneers at him and then me. “I didn't just want a picture of you. I wanted a picture of you with your . . . let me think . . . side piece.”
Evan shakes his head. “Sunday, meet Tina, all-around evil chick and main blogger and photographer for Black-CelebrityGossip. com.”
She extends her hand. After a very long pause, I shake it, but it is not a friendly handshake at all. This girl prints lies about me on the regular, so I can't say that I have any love for her.
“Pleased to meet you,” Tina says.
“Likewise,” I say through clenched teeth.
Tina laughs out loud. “I don't believe you. You need more people.”
“I'm not an actress, I'm a singer,” I reply.
“You are saucy! You should be a blogger. We'd love to have a celebrity insider correspondent.”
“If you published the truth, maybe we could have that conversation.”
Tina steps back a couple of times like a boxer being punched. “Ouch, Sunday! Can't we all eat? We tell the gossip we hear, and if our informant doesn't get it all the way accurate, we
always
issue a retraction.”
“Girl, bye.” For a split second I think about demanding a retraction to that foolish story they wrote about me cheating, but I decide it's not worth it. Everyone on campus knows it's not true and obviously I've not been kicked out of school.
“Evan, you should tell your artists that they should play nice with the Internet bloggers. We can make you, sweetie, and when we don't want to play with you anymore, we can and will break you.”
Leo rises from his seat in a menacing manner, but Evan gives him a hand signal and he sits back down.
“That's right, call off your muscle,” Tina says. “Especially if you don't want me to report your apparent business meeting as a romantic tryst with the first cousin of your future bride.”
“You wouldn't,” Evan hisses.
“I would. I'm not on your payroll, so I eat where I can.”
Evan shakes his head. “I called you over here, because I am looking for a blogger to leak some exclusive content for me.”
Tina pulls up a chair from another table and sits. “Tell me more.”
“I've got some of Drama's tracks that we're not using on the album. They're good, but we just went a different direction.”
“What's the catch?” Tina asks.
“It has to be a streaming link, no downloads.”
She nods. “Okay. I can do that. Do you mind if we embellish a bit on how we came by the tracks?”
“As long as you don't try to make anyone in our camp look bad.”
Tina giggles, “I've got a much better idea than that.”
“All right then, bet. My assistant will make sure that you get what you need.”
“Good doing business with you, Evan. You're the best. Sunday, it was so nice meeting you. I wish it had been on better terms.”
I just give her a gangsta-like head nod. I refuse to acknowledge this bottom feeder as someone legitimate. In my book, her type is the lowest of low.
Evan gazes across the table at me, with a slight grin on his face. “Tell me Sunday, do you
still
trust me?”
This time I don't reply. This behavior with Tina and her grimy blog is beyond questionable. But maybe this is just the seedy side of the music business that I never see. I think of all the leaked tracks that bloggers magically discover and wonder if it's all a setup.
And if it's all a setup then who is holding all the cards?

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