Time to Shine (4 page)

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Authors: Nikki Carter

BOOK: Time to Shine
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I laugh out loud. “Okay, boo. You might end up being the first black James Bond or something.”
“I like the way you said that.”
“What?”
“Okay, boo,” DeShawn says. “You called me boo. I can roll with that.”
“I didn't mean it like
that
, DeShawn! I just . . . well . . . never mind. Nothing I say is going to convince you that I don't want you to be my boo.”
“You're right, Sunday. Because you do want me to be your boo. You just don't know it yet.”
DeShawn spins me around and wraps his arms around me from behind. I must admit I'm enjoying this attention, but it's really not fair because most of my pleasure comes from the fact that Sam is about to lose his mind. Good.
“How long are you planning to keep me out?” DeShawn asks. “I have to get in at a respectable time, you know. I'm a student.”
“We can leave now, if you want. I think they're just gonna eat some cake and call it a night.”
Just when I think this wedding is going to be a peaceful affair and all love, hugs, kisses and bunnies, the drama hits the fan.
“Who in the world is that?” DeShawn asks.
The
who
he's referring to is a totally random chick who just stepped into the reception dressed like a video vixen-slash-stripper. She's got on a silver halter half top that bares her belly button and a pair of nearly sheer leggings. Does she realize that it is wintertime outside? I'm surprised she doesn't have an icicle hanging off her belly button. Her body is enough to make all of the men in the room catch their breath. Even DeShawn squeezes my hand a little tighter as if he has no control over it.
The scene-stealing chick has with her a little boy, about two or three years old. The second question after who is she, is how did she get into this reception, 'cause I dang sure can tell from the looks on Mystique's and Zac's faces that she was not on the invite list.
It's almost like time stops as she strides across the room with wide open steps, practically dragging the baby, who is trying to take twenty steps to one of hers. Zac's jaw drops when the girl stops directly in front of him and Mystique, who are walking around to all of the guest tables thanking people for coming. Everyone and everything is silent. You can hear a pin drop in the room. The DJ even stops spinning his record.
“Why wouldn't you want your son to be at your wedding, Zac?” the girl bellows at the top of her lungs.
It's clear now the answer to question number one. This chick must be the alleged baby mama whose existence actually made Zac pop the question to Mystique. I take one side-eyed glance at my cousin, and the satisfied smirk on her face gives me the answer to question number two. She may not have let the girl in ('cause she hasn't left her seat), but she must've given the girl the wedding reception venue.
Mystique's face contorts into an evil snarl. It actually scares me a little bit, even though it's not directed toward me.
“Get her out of here, Zac. Right now.”
The girl laughs in Mystique's face. “You don't have to get me out of here! I will leave willingly. I just thought that Zac would want his son to be a part of his big day. You can't erase him, Zac. And you can't erase me. But as long as you keep sending me those checks, you don't have to worry about me being too much of a problem.”
The girl turns to leave, but does not take the boy's hand.
“Aren't you forgetting someone, Nya?” Zac asks.
“Nope. You can arrange for a sitter when you go on your honeymoon, but I think it's time for Zac Jr. to spend some quality time with his daddy.”
“You c-can't just do this!” Mystique protests.
Nya ignores Mystique and the little boy as he starts to whimper. She strides right out of the reception hall as disruptively as she came in.
The poor little boy is in full-fledged scream mode. “Mommy! Mommy!”
All those years of taking care of my little cousin Manny has given me a bit of experience in the diffusing of tears in little boys. I let DeShawn go and run to the little tot and scoop him up in my arms.
“Hey, little man!” I say as his screams turn back to whimpers. “This is a party for your daddy! You like parties?”
The little boy nods.
“Well, this is a big ol' party too! They have all kinds of cookies and cakes over there on that table. You want to get some?”
“Cake?” he asks, his tears almost forgotten.
“Yep! As much as you can eat.”
I glance over at Zac and Mystique and mouth,
I got this
. I take little baby Zac over to the table and let him fill up a plate of every goodie imaginable. Then, I take him to the table where Zac and Mystique's mothers are sitting.
Zac's mother, Ellie, reaches out to the Zac Jr. “Come sit on granny's lap, baby.”
A huge smile bursts onto the boy's face. He definitely recognizes his grandmother, although he doesn't seem too familiar with his daddy. He scrambles onto Ellie's lap and takes bites out of each of his desserts.
Zac signals to the DJ to start the music back up, and the party resumes as if the interruption had never occurred. I take DeShawn by the hand and walk over to Dreya and Evan's table, the Reign Records table.
I sit down in an empty seat next to Dreya. She snickers like she already knows what I'm going to say.
“That was foul,” I whisper in her ear.
She shrugs. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”
“That little scene. I know you had something to do with that.”
Dreya laughs and runs her hand lovingly down Evan's arm. “Sunday, I wish I had coordinated that. That chick was the most entertaining part of this bougie, boring wedding reception.”
“Sunday, I know you don't think Dreya would do something like that to a label mate,” Evan says. “That would just be in poor taste.”
I roll my eyes at Evan because his words are saying one thing, but the glint in his eye tells me he and Dreya were probably in cahoots on this thing.
Bethany, who is sitting in the next seat, taps my arm. “Hey, girl. I didn't get a chance to speak to you earlier. You look really pretty as a bridesmaid.”
“Thank you. You look good too. You ready to get back in the studio?”
She grins. “Of course. You?”
“Maybe. Gotta figure out how to navigate around Sam, but other than that I'm ready.”
DeShawn leans over and takes my hand. “I can help you navigate around Sam. Like right now, I can take you right up out of here, and we can have our own after-party back at your dorm.”
“I am ready to go, DeShawn, but don't think something is gonna pop off. This ain't prom night or nothing. You can eat ice cream and brownies with me and my girls if you want.”
DeShawn smirks. “If that's all I can get for now, I'll take it. But pretty soon, you'll want me. You won't be able to help yourself.”
This makes me laugh out loud. “Boy, if you don't take me home . . .”
“What? What's gonna happen, Sunday Tolliver? Nothing. And you know why? 'Cause you like me.”
DeShawn winks at me and holds his arm out for me to grab, and he walks me right up out of Mystique and Zac's celebrity nightmare of a wedding. After this bananas day, I can't wait to get back to the calm peacefulness of my dorm at Spelman and my homegirls Gia and Piper.
3
“S
o the wedding was bonkers?” Piper asks as she tries on a pair of my boots. They don't suit her.
We're in Gia's and my dorm, getting ready to go to a Gamma Phi Gamma party. It's the first sorority party of the semester, and since both Piper and Meagan are determined to be Gamma girls, Gia and I have no choice but to get dragged to all of their parties.
“Yeah, I'm glad the whole wedding thing is over. Mystique is a stepmama though. I think Zac's baby mama left their son with them.”
“That is sooo what happened on that Tina Turner movie,” Gia says as she looks at her asymmetrical afro in the mirror. “Remember? Tina had to raise Ike's kids just like they were her own.”
“That's too much drama,” Piper says. “If that's what being rich and famous is all about, I'll pass.”
“Thanks a lot,” I reply. “Since I'm on the road to riches and fame, I hope my journey is not like Mystique's.”
Gia giggles and pulls on a snug wool skirt. “You've already got stuff popping off with you, girl. DeShawn was your date, and you were in the wedding party with Sam. I just knew we were gonna get a YouTube sensation out of that situation right there.”
“Sam knows what it is, plus me and DeShawn are not even all like that.”
Piper says, “You are not all like that toward DeShawn, but he's definitely getting gone over you.”
I groan and throw myself onto my bed and a pile of clothes. “I'm so not feeling that at all. I need a break from boys. Sam has messed it up for their gender right now.”
“Who could ever get tired of boys?” Piper asks.
Before Gia or I can answer her question, there's a knock on the door. We already know that it's Meagan, because she texted us to say she was on her way. When Gia opens the door, Meagan steps in with a huge smile on her face.
“How do I look, y'all?”
Meagan is wearing head-to-toe turquoise and white, the Gamma Phi Gamma colors. She's got on a turquoise half jacket, white shimmery tank, and turquoise skinny jeans. She finishes the ensemble with silver boots.
Piper's eyes widen. “Aren't they gonna be mad if you wear their colors and you haven't crossed?”
“I am legacy,” Meagan says. “For me, crossing over is a formality.”
Gia lifts an eyebrow and says, “Usually, I don't agree with Piper, but this time I think you should change. Remember there are those two chicks in the sorority who already aren't feeling you. You don't want to make anybody mad.”
Meagan looks as if she's considering Gia's advice. “Maybe you're right. I don't want to start any mess. It's a new year so maybe they'll let bygones be bygones.”
“We'll wait for you while you go and change,” I say. “But hurry up. The party started an hour ago. I like fashionably late, but dang.”
As Meagan dashes out of the room to go and change her outfit, Gia uses this as an opportunity to beef up her accessories.
“If you add one more bangle, you're gonna sound like a set of wind chimes walking up in there,” Piper says.
“I like to jingle when I walk,” Gia says with a laugh. “I sound musical, like Jill Scott or somebody.”
“Wow” is the only response I can muster. It's hard to have a comeback for some of Gia's witticisms.
“Hey, y'all, I was thinking of picking up a couple of classes at Morehouse this semester,” Piper says. “I'm thinking it will be a good way to meet guys.”
Gia giggles, “So do it, but don't tell Meagan. She'll do it with you.”
“I know.”
“Oh, I know what I forgot to tell y'all about,” Gia says in an excited tone.
“What?” I ask. I don't like the sound of the excitement. She's too amped.
“Well, you know we're having a Martin Luther King Jr. Day celebration over in the Sisters Chapel, right?” Gia asks.
I nod. “Of course. The guest speaker this year graduated from Spelman in the sixties. I bet she marched with Dr. King.”
“Right,” Gia says. “So we've been asked . . . well, I've been asked to choreograph an expression of dance for the program. I thought we'd do a theatrical interpretation of ‘Ride On, King Jesus.' ”
I give Gia a big, blank, wide-eyed stare, trying to figure out what this has to do with me.
Piper asks, “So, you need us to help you with it?”
“I'd love for y'all to be in it. Sunday, if you do it, I know I'll get more participation from the girls on campus.”
“Why does no one believe or understand me when I say that dancing is not my thing?” I ask.
“I know, I know, but I have an idea for you,” Gia says. “I want you to start off singing the song solo, and then the gospel choir will join in with you. You won't have to dance at all. The dancers will do all that.”
“Am I going to get to dance?” Piper asks.
“You may audition for me,” Gia says. “This is going to have a lot of African dance techniques. If you don't know the moves already, it'll be hard for me to get you up to speed.”
Piper rolls her eyes, jumps up from the bed, and gives us a thirty-second rendition of some African-inspired dance. If it wasn't for her pale skin, light eyes, and pointy nose, I would swear that girl was brought up on the coast of Ghana the way she swiveled her hips and swung those arms back and forth.
She's a bit out of breath when she gets done, but she says, “You mean
those
techniques?”
Gia and I burst into laughter. “All right, girl,” Gia says. “You been watching a lot of
National Geographic
, Janet Jackson videos, or something, because that was on point!”
“My last foster mother's church had a praise dance group. We did those moves on a song called ‘Anthem of Praise.' ”
“Well, you are in, girl. I like the way you move,” Gia says.
Finally, Meagan reappears in less controversial wide-leg jeans, cream turtleneck and hunter-green belted vest. This outfit is a lot more conservative, and frankly more Meagan's style.
“So, style jury, am I going to start any fights with this one?” Meagan asks.
I shake my head. “Nope. You look really sophisticated. Definitely Gamma Phi Gamma material.”
“So let's roll out. I'm driving, right? And the party is at the Gamma house?”
Gia nods. “Yep. Let's be out!”
As we leave our dorm, we notice quite a few girls filing out as well, probably most of them going to the Gamma Phi Gamma party. It is the most elite sorority on campus and most of the girls who want to join any sisterhood want it to be Gamma Phi Gamma.
The Gamma girls are strict too. If they invite you to their rush activities, they expect you to make the choice immediately to go the Gamma Phi Gamma route. If a girl seems indecisive or lets another one of the sororities court her too, she can pretty much forget crossing over as a Gamma Phi Gamma girl.
Technically, they're not allowed to pledge anyone or do any hazing activities, but there is an underground pledge process that takes place. The girls who are accepted based on the intake application alone are classified as “paper” and not given the same respect as the ones who go through the pledge process.
All of this information is completely useless to me, since I have absolutely no intention of pledging or joining any sorority. But since Piper and Meagan are Gamma fanatics, I have no choice but to hear the ins and outs of getting into Gamma Phi Gamma.
The party is definitely already jumping when we arrive. Ironically, the DJ is spinning my cut “Can U See Me” when we walk into the party, as if on cue. Although the music is bumping, there aren't many people dancing. There are clumps of girls and guys talking and laughing and a few couples grinding in corners—not exactly dancing.
DeShawn waves at me from across the room, and I give him a three-finger wave in return. For some reason, he seems to think that this means “come here,” because he makes his way through the crowded room to where we are.
He hugs me and lifts me off the floor as he does so. “Hey, girl. I feel like I haven't seen you in forever.”
I laugh. “I just saw you at Mystique's wedding.”
“Too long, too long. You could call me or text me or something,” DeShawn fusses.
Gia starts clearing her throat violently. DeShawn asks, “Gia you okay?”
“Yeah,” she says, “I'm just kind of
thirsty
. You know what that feels like, right?”
DeShawn rolls his eyes. “Thirsty doesn't describe me in the least. I just like what I like.”
“Anyway!” Gia says. “I see my homeboy Kevin. Where's Ricky? He said he was probably gonna come through.”
DeShawn shrugs. “I left him on campus. He might not have had a ride. Maybe you should go and call him.”
“Anything to get rid of me, huh?” Gia asks.
DeShawn nods and smiles. “Unh-huh! Now go and find your man.”
“You doing all right?” DeShawn asks as Gia rushes away, furiously pressing numbers on her cell phone.
“I am cool. Yeah, pretty cool.”
“Good, because I have a question to ask you.”
I feel my stomach flip. “Okay . . .”
“Did you invite me to Mystique's wedding because you really wanted me as a date, or did you just invite me to make Sam jealous?”
“I . . . uh . . . um . . . well . . .”
Thank God for Meagan and her total disregard of conversation etiquette when she has something important to say. I have absolutely no idea how to answer DeShawn's question and not sound like a jerk, so I am so happy that Meagan nearly knocks DeShawn over to get to me. The truth is, I invited him to the wedding so that I wouldn't have to deal with Sam's trying to get me back.
“What's wrong?” I ask her.
“Wrong? Nothing's wrong! Nothing at all.”
“Then why the dramatic entrance?” DeShawn asks.
Meagan looks DeShawn up and down like he's the one who interrupted. Then she dismisses him with a wave of her hand. Rude, but the hilarious look on DeShawn's face is totally worth it.
“I have found him, Sunday. My husband, my Chi Kappa Psi man. My Morehouse soul mate.”
“And you know this already?”
“I do, I do. He introduced himself, and he summers down the road from my family in the Hamptons. He's going to study medicine, he's deliciously fine, and he asked me out on a date. I could just pass out right now!”
“Well, what's this Romeo's name?” I ask with a little giggle. It's hard not to be tickled seeing Meagan like this. Her pin-straight hair is whipping all around as she jerks her head on that pencil-thin frame.
“His name is Linden. And I think I'm in love.”
“You can't know you're in love that fast,” DeShawn protests as if he is a part of the conversation.
“Does this guy know who I am?” Meagan asks.
I shake my head. “Apparently not.”
Meagan is the girl with the plan. She already knows the end of her story. By the time she turns thirty, she's going to be married to a doctor from Gamma Phi Gamma's brother fraternity, Chi Kappa Psi, be mother of two kids, and own a four-bedroom house and a little dog.
Sometimes I envy her a little bit. It seems like the only thing that I'm sure of right now is that I'm going to finish college and keep pushing forward with my music. As for love . . . that has temporarily eluded me.
And I think that if it comes again, it certainly won't be planned. It's almost one-hundred-percent sure to catch me by surprise.

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