Time to Shine (7 page)
Authors: Nikki Carter
I spin on one heel and skip back to the dorm. Yeah, I actually am skipping. I do believe this might be my favorite day of this week.
And it's all because of DeShawn and his
fine
self.
fine
self.
7
U
gh! This is the worst day I've had all week, and it's all because of Sam's irritating, cheating, weed-smoking behind.
gh! This is the worst day I've had all week, and it's all because of Sam's irritating, cheating, weed-smoking behind.
We're in the lab, Big D's studio, the place where Sam and I have come up with most of our songwriting magic. Big D is here too, I guess to act as a referee, and to make sure that I don't scratch Sam's eyeballs out. But even Big D in all his cuddly warmth, can't make me and Sam get along. We've been snapping at each other all morning, and I'm ready to go. There are other things I can do today besides get fussed at by my ex-boyfriend.
After a third time of me singing the same line, Sam says, “Come on, Sunday, let's get this melody down. You've sung it differently each time. How can I decide how to do a track if you keep singing it different?”
Sam's tone is really getting on my nerves. “You are on level ten right now, Sam. You need to bring it down a notch.”
“You act like we've got all the time in the world to finish these songs. All you're writing on this one is a hook anyway. Dreya is rapping on this song.”
I stand to my feet. “Big D, I'm sorry. I thought I could do this, but I can't.”
“What you trippin' on?” Sam asks. “Oh, you can't work with me now?”
Part of me wonders how Sam is okay with this situation. Is he not the least bit upset that we aren't together? Maybe I really didn't mean all that much to him to begin with. With all the lies he's told, and games he's played, that's probably the case.
Sam's phone buzzes on the edge of his keyboard. He flips it over and hops off the bench.
“I gotta take this. Be right back.”
“Who is that? Your new chick?” I ask the question before I can stop myself. I sound so jealous right now, and that is not even the case.
Sam rolls his eyes. “No. It's Zac. But what do you care anyway? I heard you're gonna be boo'ed up at the Grammys.”
I roll my eyes back at Sam, ease down into my seat, and cross my arms over my chest in a huff. I'm feeling a mixture of embarrassment and fury. Big D gives me a long, concerned, fatherly gaze.
“Boo'ed up?” Big D asks. “With who? You were just with Sam at the American Music Awards. What message do you think it will send to show up with a new guy?”
“The message that Sam and I are absolutely not an item. I'm going with DeShawn.”
“Model dude from the video? I bet that was Mystique's idea.”
I nod. “Yeah, it was, but I happen to like DeShawn so it's all good.”
“Watch Mystique,” Big D says. “I feel that she doesn't want you and Sam together for selfish reasons.”
“Like what? What does our relationship or lack thereof have to do with her?”
“You and Sam are a team. A darn great team. You are nominated for a Grammy on your very first project for Song of the Year. No matter how much Mystique claims to be on your side, you are a threat to her. Don't diss her or cut her loose, but don't ever forget.”
Everyone keeps telling me not to trust Mystique, but the only ones that keep hurting me are the ones close to my heart. Sam's betrayal stings more than Mystique's possible jealousy at our rapid rise to fame. And my cousin Dreya tried to get me dropped from my record deal, yet I'm in the studio writing hits for her project. It sounds like there are lots of people I shouldn't trust and Mystique is the least of these.
“Me and Sam not being together has nothing to do with Mystique. He's a liar, and he played me. Plus, it wouldn't benefit Mystique for us to not be a songwriting team. We wrote a hit record for her too, remember?”
Big D shakes his head wearily. “Listen, I don't know for sure if she's out to get you. I'm just saying watch your back.”
“I thought you had my back, Big D? What's up with that?”
He gives me that slow and infectious smile that makes the women forget that he weighs over three hundred pounds. “I always have your back, baby girl. Me and your mama are probably the only ones you can trust.”
Sam comes back into the room and sits down on the keyboard bench. He's frowning now, but I can't bring myself to ask why.
“Since you can't seem to get the song right,” Sam says, “why don't we work on our Grammy acceptance speech?”
I scrunch my nose into a grimace. I don't know why it didn't occur to me that I would have to walk up and receive the award with Sam. Song of the Year is an award for the songwriter, not the artist, so this is another moment that we'd share.
“If we win, we should just give our own separate acceptance speeches. You have different people to thank, and I mean we are two separate people.”
Sam nods slowly. “Okay. By the way, I'm taking my mom to the Grammys.”
“Okay . . .”
“So who are you going with?” Sam asks, but his question sounds like an accusation or a demand. He's straight-up tripping.
I look Big D straight in the eye and ask, “Who does this dude think he's talking to?”
Big D bursts into laughter. His entire body jiggles when he laughs, and his face lights up too. He loves a good joke, and I know Sam has got to be joking coming at me like that.
Sam now seems irritated by the laughter, and there's a reddish undertone to his caramel-colored skin, indicating a bit of embarrassment.
“You know what? I don't even care who you're going with. It ain't with me, so whatever,” Sam says. He starts banging out chords on the keyboard like he's lost his ever-loving mind.
“Oh, calm down! I'm going with my friend DeShawn. He's not my boyfriend, so you can stop tripping.”
“I saw how that dude was all on you in that video. We weren't even broken up yet. Why you talking about me playing you? It looks like you were doing some playing too,” Sam says.
Okay, now I'm about to be on anger and fury level ten. I know he's not about to sit up here and accuse me of being unfaithful. Not when I was the one who was holding on to us for dear life.
“Don't do that, Sam. Do not do that.”
“Don't do what? Don't throw your past dirt up in your face? Why not? That's how you do me. I can't live anything down.”
“Oh my goodness! You kicked it with someone behind my back, took her virginity, and then bought her a computer! Not to mention the girl you slobbered down in the club. I haven't done anything to you, Sam.”
Dreya picks this moment to bounce down the stairs and into the lab. “Ugh. Can y'all stop fighting and finish my songs?”
“I'm in agreement with Drama,” Big D says. “Let's take this one song at a time. Can y'all agree to bury the hatchet for the rest of the day?”
Sam and I both tentatively nod. I don't know if I have a hatchet. It's more like a sword. But I do want to get back to my dorm. Today is the last day of the weekend, and I've got a paper to finish up for my composition class.
“Let me hear what y'all been working on,” Dreya demands.
“Hold up,” Big D says as his currently on-again girlfriend Shelly descends the stairs daintily carrying a tray with glasses of lemonade and slices of cake. Shelly is like the hood Martha Stewart. She's always baking or cooking something. How she does it in five-inch heels, acrylic nails, and ten pounds of hair weave, I'll never understand. She smiles at Big D like he's the only one in the room. I could never be like her. Big D plays her for sideline chicks all the time. They get into arguments, she storms out, and he begs her to come back. She always does. That is crazy to me.
“Y'all want some of this cake?” Shelly asks. Her thick Southern accent tells me that she's a native Georgia peach just like me.
“I'll pass,” Dreya says. “The last thing I need is cake.”
“Your body is perfect. You can eat what you want,” Big D says.
Dreya shakes her head. “No. Evan told me that my skin is dull when I don't eat right. When I get off the plane in New York, I want to be glowing.”
Glowing? Really? I've never seen Dreya quite so taken with a guy like she is with Evan. I think she, like Shelly, turns a blind eye and a deaf ear to dirt he might be doing. This is how rich guys get over, I guess, because girls will stay with them in spite of foolishness, just so they can get iced up with diamonds and wear designer clothes.
“When does your flight leave?” Sam asks. “Are we going back on the same flight?”
“I'm leaving next Friday,” Dreya says.
“Oh, naw, then. I'm out tomorrow morning,” Sam says.
“You let your man be alone that long?” Shelly asks as she sets her tray with the uneaten cake slices on the table.
“Me and my man are both grown,” Dreya replies. “I'm not stressing what he does when I'm not there, just like he's not stressing what I do. That's called grown and sexy.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Okay, moving right along. Here's what we came up with so far. Come on, Sam. Play the music.”
Sam moves slowly, like he doesn't like being bossed by me. After a long and deliberate pause, he starts to play.
I sing, “You checking up on me/You checking up on me/Who do you think you are?/You don't own me/You don't know me/I'm a star, baby/Nobody checks up on me.”
Dreya squeals with delight as we finish the song. “That's hot! I love it. When can I record it?”
“We have to write the second verse, and the bridge,” I say. “But it'll be next week.”
“Why do we have to wait until next week? You and Sam were always able to bust out a song in an hour or so. What's up?” Dreya asks.
I'm not even going to respond to this. Dreya knows exactly what's up between me and Sam. Everyone in our camp knows. She's just being messy right now. Sam takes off his baseball cap, scratches the top of his head, and replaces it. I know what this gesture means. He's trying to avoid answering the question too. It's amazing how much I picked up of Sam's individual tics from dating him just that little short time.
“Sunday, can I talk to you in private for a minute?” Dreya asks. Then she looks at Sam, Shelly, and Big D. “Can we have a second?”
Big D frowns. “Am I being kicked out of my own studio?”
“Just for a minute,” Dreya says. “I really, really need to talk to my cousin.”
Okay, what is Dreya on?
My cousin?
I haven't heard her refer to me that way since we were little. She doesn't even introduce me as her cousin. She's always like, “This is Sunday.”
My cousin?
I haven't heard her refer to me that way since we were little. She doesn't even introduce me as her cousin. She's always like, “This is Sunday.”
Sam pulls his hat low on his head and stands from the keyboard. “Sunday, get at me before I leave, even if we have to finish this song over the phone.”
He doesn't wait for my response, but goes upstairs two steps at a time. Shelly sets her plate of pound cake down on the table and follows behind Sam. Big D is a lot slower in getting up the stairs. I'm starting to be concerned about him. All that weight he's carrying cannot be good.
When they are safely upstairs with the door to the basement closed, Dreya says, “Sunday, I've got something to say to you. And it's gonna be hard, but I have to do it.”
“Okay.”
“I am sorry for what I did to you. I'm sorry I went to Epsilon Records and tried to get you dropped from your deal.”
This is a shock! An apology from Dreya? Am I being punk'd?
“Why did you do it? I still don't understand why.”
“Sunday, don't you see? You are a better singer than me! You write songs. You're prettier than me! I just wanted, for once, to be better than you . . . to have something that belongs to me.”
“Wow. I don't even know what to say.”
“But I don't feel the same way anymore. I know that there is room for both of us.”
I am skeptical of this entire conversation. This is so unlike Dreya that I think it has to be coming from someone else.
“Did Evan tell you to apologize?” I ask.
Dreya shakes her head. “No, but he did tell me I was wrong to hate on you. I thought he'd be on my side, but he wasn't. He thinks family is everything.”
“So it took Evan to tell you everything my mom has been saying to you since we were little?”
Dreya looks at the floor and shrugs. When she raises her head there are tears in her eyes. “Sunday, do you know how jealous I've been of you our entire lives?”
“What?”
“You had the good mother. Auntie Shawn works hard and y'all always had someplace to stay. Me and Manny never knew where we were gonna live, or even if we'd have dinner.”
I bite my lip and sadly think about Dreya's life. Aunt Charlie was always in kickin'-it mode. She partied hard, even when she needed to be there for her kids. My mom always had to bail her out and make sure my cousins had a roof over their heads. It always irritated me when they lived with us, because I didn't have my own space. I never once thought about how they felt having to live with us.
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