On the Flip Side (16 page)

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Authors: Nikki Carter

BOOK: On the Flip Side
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“Nope,” I reply. “We're going to ... where are we going, Meagan?”
“Club Pyramids.”
I roll my eyes. I should've known they were going to pick Club Pyramids. It's one of the hottest clubs in the A that allow minors to come in.
“You don't like Club Pyramids?” Meagan asks. “It's a really fly spot.”
“It's owned by Dilly's brother, Bryce. We don't have really great history. Actually, he's somebody I try to avoid at all costs.”
“Would it make you more comfortable if Ricky and I came with y'all?” DeShawn asks.
“You don't have to do that, DeShawn... .”
“It's cool. I want to.”
The way he says this ... takes me back to the uncomfortable place with him. He says these things that taken by themselves, as just words, are totally non-flirtatious. But while he speaks, he gazes into my eyes with a look of concern on his face—as if he's my boyfriend.
I just don't know what to do about him.
“Okay, then. I think Gia wants Ricky with her anyway so that will work out great.”
“So, don't leave for your party bus without telling us, okay?”
I nod and DeShawn takes his swag back to the dance floor, to whip it out on some unsuspecting girl, who will just melt in his hands from the power of his suave-i-tay. Not!
“You and DeShawn looked really good out there,” Meagan says. “Almost like a boyfriend and girlfriend.”
“Don't start. I'm dating Sam.”
“I think you should have a college
friend
at least.”
“I've got lots of friends.”
Meagan laughs out loud. “Okay, I mean a friend that is a hot boy. That kind of friend.”
“Why would I do that when I have a boyfriend?”
“You have a missing-in-action boyfriend,” Meagan says. When she sees my look of irritation, she backs down. “Okay, sorry. You have a wonderful boyfriend.”
Sam being wonderful is definitely debatable now, but I won't have Meagan doubting his loyalty.
“Look, there are those girls from the bus,” Meagan says changing the subject away from Sam. “They're across the room at the table close to the VIP curtain.”
“What girls? Do I know them?”
“No,” Meagan says. “It's the girls that were looking at you with so much attitude.”
Oh, those girls. I didn't really get a good look at them on the bus, so I turn slowly to my left so I can identify them if I have to later. There are three of them, and there's one in the center wearing a gold dress and a long curly wig. She looks like a Mystique knockoff. Kind of like one of those purses you buy in New York on Canal Street. Perfect until you give it a close inspection. Even from the corner of my eye I can tell the chick is glaring at me.
“She's still giving me shade too,” I say. “I don't even know her, so I don't know what her problem could possibly be.”
Meagan laughs. “It's called hating, I believe, in your street vocabulary. Perhaps even hateration.”
“What do you mean in my
street
vocabulary?”
“Don't get twisted. You know what I mean.”
“I think I know what you mean. Why don't you tell me what hating is called in your high-class, high-paid, cottage-in-the-Hamptons-owning lingo.”
“Where I come from we call it envy, plain and simple.”
Envy. An amped-up form of jealousy.
I turn to the girl and look at her face-to-face. Her face twists into a frown. A frown that wasn't there before.
Envious sounds like the precise nickname for her.
24
C
lub Pyramids is exactly how I remember it. Loud music, obnoxious neon lights flashing everywhere. Okay ... it's ghetto. There. I said it. But they are at least attempting to be an elite club. Now, they're trying to take in some of that concert money and are booking artists for shows.
We use my celebrity status again to get to the VIP area without waiting in line or paying anything extra. This special treatment is something I could definitely get used to. Without question.
This time in the VIP, I see some very familiar faces. Some I want to know that I'm at the club—others I'd rather not deal with. Bad-boy rapper Truth is there with his entourage. I'm actually surprised he'd show up here since Bryce has got ties to Zac, and since Zac beat the tar out of him for hurting Dreya.
I roll my eyes at him as I walk past with
my
entourage. Okay, my entourage is soooo lame compared to the crew of gangsta-looking, wife-beater-wearing thugs with Truth. And the girls ... well, let me just say that I'm sure at least one of them has either a gold-digging or a baby-mama-to-the-stars career ahead of her.
“It could be worse,” Gia whispers to me as we pick out our own table in the corner. “Your cousin could be here too.”
Dreya has been keeping a pretty low profile since the story about Zac's love child broke. That's why I think, even more, that she had something to do with that leak. I haven't heard a peep out of her since Thanksgiving. Maybe she's not talking to me because she's still angry about my millionaire status.
We all slide into a long booth that has miniature tables in front of it. From our seat we can see the door to the VIP area, which is good, because I'm checking for those jealous chicks from Georgia State University. I have to make sure I watch my back.
I hear Bethany's first single blast through the speakers. I don't tell anyone that I wrote the song or that it's even Bethany. I want to see my friends' reaction to the song without any biases or input from me. The song is called “Stop the Presses” and it's about a girl who finds out that her boyfriend broke up with her on Facebook. It was inspired by a letter from one of my fans.
Piper is the first to speak up. “Ooh, I really like this song. Does anyone know who that is? She's got this little gravelly thing happening with her voice! It sounds really good!”
“I wasn't really paying attention until the second verse,” Gia says. “She came in blowing on that part.”
“Yeah, she did,” Ricky says. “But why are girls always singing about some dude doing them wrong? Like y'all don't do guys wrong sometimes.”
“Sure, girls do dirt too,” I say, “but we typically don't get caught!”
Hope jumps up and gives me a high five. “I know, right! Guys can be pretty clueless to when they're getting played.”
“Like tonight,” Gia says, “I will assume that no chicanery was taking place with you and DeShawn kicking it to the club, even though you didn't tell me you were going clubbing.”
Meagan says, “Okay, that has nothing to do with what we're talking about.”
“Yes, it does,” Gia says. “I was about to say that if you were up to something, you probably would realize that you couldn't really creep this close to campus, because it would always get back to me. That's how I know you
aren't
up to anything.”
Ricky shakes his head. “Okay, y'all, she's been looking for an opportunity to fuss at me since she walked up into Kaleidoscope and saw me in there with DeShawn. Ain't nobody trying to creep, Gia.”
“Okay, well, I was just wondering why you didn't mention your little boys' outing when I told you I was going on the party bus with my girls.”
“Because DeShawn invited me at the last minute.”
DeShawn bursts into laughter. “Man, don't put me in this! Next time, I'll remind you to check in with your girl first. I don't want you to get grounded. Then we might not get to hang at all.”
“Thank you,” Gia says.
Ricky scrunches his face into a frown. “What! I don't have to answer to Gia. I'm a grown man. Now ... out of courtesy, I will
try
to remember to tell you where I'm going.”
“Out of courtesy?” Gia asks.
“Yep. That's what I said.”
Gia nods with her entire body. It's a mad, kinda filled-with-attitude nod. “Okay. I see you, Ricky. Mr. Georgia State football.”
Gia is dead serious, but Ricky cracks up laughing. He even holds his side as his giggles come fast and furiously.
“What is so funny?” I ask. “ 'Cause my girl look like she fixing to open a can of whoopin' on you.”
“She looks just like her mother. I wish you could see yourself, Gia. You look just like Gwen when she's about to tell somebody off.”
This melts Gia's anger completely, and while she doesn't join the laughter, she does smile. “Whatever, boy. You get on my nerves.”
“There are those girls again,” Piper says. “They stay stuntin' in VIP like they're somebody. Wait, are they someone we should know? Do they sing?”
“I don't know. Maybe,” I say. That would explain the mean-mug faces they keep throwing over here.
This time they walk straight up to our table. The ring leader says, “Are you still kicking it with Sam?”
“Although you clearly know who I am,” I say, “I have no idea who you are. I only share my personal business with friends.”
She laughs out loud. “I'm Porche and my best friend's name is Rielle.”
Okay, so now this makes sense. Rielle is the girl Sam asked to prom after he and I had our first break-up-to-make-up session. I don't know the girl, probably wouldn't recognize her if she came in the club too, because I only saw her a couple of times on the prom pictures.
I shake my head. “Now I know your name, but you're still a stranger. Sorry. Would you like an autograph?”
Snickers around the table from my friends. Well, laughter for Piper. Everyone else tries to be slick with theirs. Piper has zero finesse. I should say she scores a negative ten on finesse. We're gonna have to school her on that.
“Naw ... I don't want your autograph. I'm far from a groupie.”
“Well, then what is it that you want?”
“To let you know how your man comes to visit my girl on campus at Georgia Tech every time he's in town. And how she lost her virginity to him on prom night. Your boy's a dog. I just thought you should know.”
I open my mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. Porche and her two sidekicks crack up laughing. “I see you not talking sideways now are you, pop star? You know what else? Sam bought Rielle a new computer when he got his check from Epsilon Records. It's a nice laptop. He must still be getting some, because I don't know a guy who would do that if he wasn't reaping some benefits.”
Gia and Hope both jump up at the same time. Gia says, “Y'all can cluck on. It's funny y'all have heard all about Sunday, but she don't know anything about you chickens.”
“Sounds like your friend is a sideline ho,” Hope adds.
A million thoughts are running through my mind. Like the first lie that Sam told me. He said Rielle was nobody. Not a girlfriend, just someone he asked to prom at the last minute. And then he said they only kissed. Now this chick is saying they hooked up. Then, I wonder if we can make it through this.
I don't know how to feel about this. I'm just used to Sam being kind of corny and not the type of dude who would be a player. But I never knew Sam at his own school, and in his own element. I only knew him from the studio. I have no idea what Sam was like before I met him.
I feel like I don't know him at all.
Porche and her girls wait a few seconds longer as if they're waiting for a response from me. I can't and won't give them one. The only person I want to talk to is Sam.
Finally, when they realize there's not going to be a fight or any drinks thrown (because I'm much too classy for that), the three haters actually leave the VIP area. I guess they were waiting for the perfect time to lay this on me. I'm glad they leave the VIP, because I don't know how long I can hold it together, and I definitely don't want them to see me twisted.
“You okay, Sunday?” Piper asks.
I shake my head. “Of course I'm not okay.”
“Don't get too upset yet,” DeShawn says. “They could be lying.”
That's true. They could be. But how would they know that Sam got a check from Epsilon Records? Like, that's too much information for them to have if they weren't in communication with Sam at all.
“Yeah, I would get the whole story first,” Ricky says. “You can't just believe their side. That's not fair to Sam.”
The worst part is, Sam is not in town right now. He's in New York City doing who knows what with who knows who. I can't even talk to him face-to-face, and this is definitely not a phone conversation.
I send Sam a text. Can you get a flight out tomorrow?
He texts back. Is everything ok?
No, I reply.
What's going on?
Need 2 c u. Will talk when you're here.
Sam doesn't reply for a few moments to the last one. I wonder why. Is he going through a laundry list of dirt in his mind? Is he trying to backtrack? Trying to figure out what could've gotten back to me?
Finally, he says, I'll be on the first flight out. Will call when I land.
Tomorrow, then, I'll know for sure. I'll look into Sam's face and ask the tough questions, and I think I'll know if he's lying. Hopefully, the truth will be written all over his face.
And then ... well, I don't know what will happen next. But at the end of the conversation, I'm either going to have a boyfriend, or I'm going to be single and free to mingle.
Didn't I say I was going out tonight to get away from the drama? Well, it looks like I can't escape it. The foolishness is following me.

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