Time to Shine (18 page)

Authors: Nikki Carter

BOOK: Time to Shine

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“Before all of this, Meagan and I were talking about hanging out on spring break and going to Destin together. She even invited me to her parents' house in Martha's Vineyard for the summer. We were going to go bike riding and eat custard out of cups. It sounded wonderful.”

Gia, Hope, and I all look at each other. I suppose they don't know what to say either, because I can't think of one word that I can give in reply to this.

Piper continues, “I've never had a friend like Meagan beforeâyou know, someone rich and privileged. It felt like I was going to maybe have the life of one of the popular girls in one of those teen novels Hope likes to read.”

I look at Hope and lift an eyebrow. “Don't judge me,” Hope says.

“Who in the world cares about popular and privileged?” Gia asks.

Piper says, “That's easy for you to say. You brought your entire clique with you to Atlanta. Hope, your father is a rich pastor, and Sunday is a celebrity! Where do I fit? I was going to pledge Gamma Phi Gamma, but there's no way I'll get in now, with Meagan a shoo-in. She'll ruin my chances.”

“Forget about Gamma Phi Gamma,” I say. “You, my friend, are a member of the most elite clique on campus.”

Piper rolls her eyes and says, “And what's that?”

“My entourage!”

Gia twists her lips to the side. “I thought we just made that up for club night.”

“It doesn't have to be just for the club. You are my sisters. And I think I want to take my sisters on a shopping spree.”

“How many times she gonna tease us with this?” Gia asks. “Last time you were taking us shopping you ran off to do Evan's bidding.”

“Well, this time, I think we should go furniture shopping,” I say. “For our new apartment!”

Hope, Gia, and Piper squeal. Then, Hope stops. “Wait. Am I in your entourage? I only hang out with y'all sometimes, but I want to live with you too!”

“Please, Sunday! She can share a room with me,” Gia says.

I give a little grin. “Next thing you know you're going to try to move Ricky and Kevin up in there too.”

“Kevin
is
your assistant,” Piper says. “And he's a hottie. I don't see why not.”

Then, I consider the possibilities. Instead of an apartment, I can have a house. A big house that I can purchase with cash, and I can move all of my friends in with me. It will save them money on their college bills, and every weekend will be a party.

“Let's go house shopping, y'all. I think I want a pool.”

M
ystique and I are enjoying lunch at Paschal's in honor of the
Vibe
photo shoot. The magazine's editors decided to use the picture of me and Dreya for the cover, which annoyed Evan, but made Dreya happier than a clam.

“I'm buying a house,” I say. “Do you know any real estate agents?”

“Yes, I have a good one. I'll tell her to call you. What are you in the market for?”

“I want a big house. Five bedrooms at least, four, maybe five, baths, a pool, and a theater room.”

“Whoa. All that? Where you want to stay?”

“Buckhead, I think. I'm not trying to have to drive too far to go to school.”

“Buckhead? Girl, how much you trying to spend?”

“I don't know. Five hundred thousand at the most.”

Mystique taps her chin. “You might be able to get something in foreclosure for that price.”

“Good. That's what I want.”

Mystique picks up the magazine and smiles. “This picture is so cute! It's almost like an alter ego shoot, and who knew Dreya could look that sweet?”

“She is a good actress! And the photo shoot was fun.”

Mystique flips through the pages. “Did they interview y'all for the article?”

“Not really. They asked a couple of questions here and there but nothing formal.”

“Have you read it yet?”

“No . . .”

Mystique scans the article and breathes a sigh of relief. “You are lucky! There's nothing damaging here. Haven't I schooled you better than that? You always ask what they're going to print before they print it.”

“I guess I wasn't thinking about that.”

“That's obvious. You also aren't thinking about your figure eating all that fried chicken.”

“I know, I know. When I'm old like you, I'll watch my figure. Right now, my metabolism is kicking some serious tail, so I'm gonna eat what I want.”

Mystique chuckles. “Okay. You got me. I am approaching thirty. I remember when I could eat whatever I wanted. Trust, you're going to be eating sprigs of lettuce just like me in a few years.”

Mystique pulls out her tablet and goes to the Internet. “By now, your
Vibe
photos are all over the Internet. Let's see what BlackCelebrityGossip.com has to say. They'll either love the photos or hate them.”

I cover my mouth and giggle at Mystique. Any time she does an interview she says, “I never look at the blogs. I don't care about gossip. Family is the only thing that's important.” She checks the blogs religiously, and has a Google alert set up to send her a message every time her name appears online.

“Oh no!” Mystique says.

“What?”

Instead of answering, she spins her tablet around and points. The story says:
Is Reign Records Coming Apart at the Seams? An insider from the
Vibe
photo shoot, tells us that Bethany was high as a kite the entire shoot. Fake lovebirds Sunday and Sam both showed up at the shoot with dates. And y'all didn't hear it from us, but Ms. Squeaky-Clean Sunday just got caught cheating at Spelman. Looks like her cousin's ways are rubbing off on her. Speaking of Drama, she is the only one who seemed genuinely happy as she could barely keep her hands off of her sponsor, Evan Wilborn, but she was also vomiting every few minutes. Was it a hangover, or should we be asking Drama where she's registered the baby?

“Was Dreya really throwing up all over the place?” Mystique asks.

“She threw up one time. This is such an exaggeration. They always are.”

“So she's not pregnant?”

I blink once and pause before responding. “I really don't know.”

“You paused too long, Sunday. You know something.” I think I know something, but I haven't talked to Dreya since the photo shoot, so I'm sure not about to confirm or deny anything to her sworn enemy.

“She would choose right now to get pregnant,” Mystique hisses. “Just when I was about to make my announcement about my pregnancy.”

I guess my silence was all the confirmation Mystique needed. “Maybe she's not pregnant.”

“I gotta give it to her, she's smart. Epsilon is dropping her after this next record, so she should have plenty of time to spend Evan's money and raise their child. He sure won't be there.”

I narrow my eyes suspiciously. “How do you know about Epsilon dropping her from her record deal?”

“Come on, Sunday. You don't really have to ask that question, do you? She's getting dropped, because I'm walking if they don't drop her. My contract is up after my next record and they want to keep me happy.”

I shake my head and move the fried chicken pieces around on my plate. I feel trapped in the middle. Mystique is my mentor. I've been listening to her music since I was in middle school. I look up to her and respect her, but I've got to admit that she's ruthless and cutthroat.

When I don't reply, Mystique continues, “And you're cheating, Sunday? What's up with that?”

“No, I'm not. I was accused, but I didn't do it. Dreya bought a paper for me from the campus hustler.”

“So you're not going to say anything about me asking Epsilon to drop Drama?”

I swallow my food and then clear my throat. “I just have one question. Why are you so threatened by her?”

“It's not so much that I'm threatened,” Mystique says with a smile. “She has crossed me one too many times. I don't play that.”

I'm not convinced she's telling the truth. I think she is scared that someone is going to take her spot. And apparently, she thinks that person is going to be Dreya.

“You
think
she's crossed you. You don't have any proof.”

Mystique laughs out loud. “I don't need proof! I just get rid of all enemies in my path. Dreya made herself an enemy to me from day one, so I'm just finishing what she started.”

A few tables over, a group of fans wave at Mystique. She turns on her high-wattage smile and waves back with one finger. I guess that was supposed to be a cutesy gesture, but for some reason it irritates the heck out of me. Maybe because she's talking about destroying my cousin's career and pretending to be sweet at the same time.

My phone buzzes. It's a text from my mom. Emergency family meeting. I don't care what you're doing, get yourself here in an hour.

I take a hundred-dollar bill out of my purse, and place it in the middle of the table. “I gotta go. It's an emergency. Thanks for lunch, it's on me.”

“That's a pretty generous tip, Sunday. Our food is only fifty dollars.”

I shrug. “It's cool. We had a good waitress. She didn't ask to take our picture with her cell phone.”

I skip the customary embrace that I usually have with Mystique. I don't hug potential enemies, and that's exactly how Mystique is coming across right now. Seriously, how soon is it going to be before she's threatened by me? How long will it take for her to start destroying my career?

W
hen I walk through the door at home, my mother is muttering, fussing under her breath. I can make out bits and pieces of what she's saying. For the most part, there's a lot of, “The blood of Jesus” and “I can't believe these heffas” being thrown around. I'm going to assume that I'm one of the heffas.

My mom just looks at me and says, “Sit down. Just sit yourself on down.”

I do as I'm told, and glance around to see if there's any evidence of why my mom is talking to herself and God at the same time. Manny comes out of the back room, where he used to sleep, wearing his favorite
Transformers
T-shirt and jeans.

“Hey, Sunday!” he screams as he launches himself into my lap. “You and my sister are in trouble.”

Manny always knows the scoop, because he ignores all rules about children participating in grown-folk conversation.

“I'm grown,” I say as I kiss Manny's head full of curls. “What are you doing over here anyway? Do you like your new place?”

“I do like my new house, but there's nobody there to get me water in the middle of the night.”

“Why don't you put a glass on your nightstand before you go to sleep?”

Manny looks like he considers this for all of two seconds. “Um . . . then a spider could be swimming in it when I get ready to take a sip. Then, I could swallow a spider and it might have babies in my stomach . . . and then . . . would I be a Spider-Man after that?”

I crack up laughing. “Only if it's a radioactive spider.”

“Ooh . . . I got a radio in my room too.”

My mother stops her muttering and looks at me. “What are you laughing about? Half of my church has called me about you and this cheating scandal at Spelman. How could you embarrass me like that?”

Manny jumps off my lap. “You might be about to get a whupping.”

My declaration of
I'm grown
sounds a little hollow with my mother ranting in my face. Right now, I feel like I'm five years old.

“Mom, I didn't cheat.” I stop short of telling my mother about Dreya's involvement. It feels like snitching, much more so than telling Dean Whitacre.

“Then why is that all over the Internet, huh? Don't tell me there's not some truth to that gossip.”

“You're just going to have to trust me on this one, Mom. I didn't cheat.”

My mother's left eyebrow shoots up so high that it's in danger of leaving her face. “You don't tell me what I have to do! I'm the mother here, and you are the daughter. You done got it all twisted.”

“Mom, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that I don't have any other way to convince you other than giving my word. I didn't do it.”

My mother purses her lips together into a thin, straight line. “I guess I believe you, but you need to explain something else. Why do I have Realtors calling here all day every day all saying that they can get you the best deal on a house? Do you have anything you want to share?”

“Um, I was going to tell you about this. I'm shopping for a house in Buckhead.”

“What? Why a house and why Buckhead? I thought you were going to get a condo.”

I have already constructed my argument for this moment. I know my mother won't like this at all. So here goes....

“Well, I started looking at condos, and Buckhead is the nicest area closest to school.”

“Mmm-hmm . . .”

“And some of the condos are as expensive as a house.”

“But you don't need a house! I will be more comfortable with you in a locked building guarded by a doorman. The idea of you in a house by yourself scares me, Sunday.”

“Well . . . I won't be by myself. My school friends are coming with me. Gia, Hope, Piper, Kevin, Ricky, and DeShawn. . .”

My mother's mouth drops open. “Have you lost your natural mind? You think you're about to have a party house?”

“No, Mom. Not at all. More like a boarding house. They will save money on room and board, and pay me rent. And I'll also have a recording studio in my house, so that I can get my music done.”

“Why the boys, Sunday? That's not going to look right!”

“Look right to whom? Your church friends? None of these guys are my boyfriend! Kevin is my assistant and is going to be a minister. Ricky is celibate, and DeShawn is my bodyguard and friend!”

“You think you're grown, don't you?”

I open my mouth to reply, just as Aunt Charlie and Dreya walk into the house. They are wearing matching tracksuits that have their names in rhinestone, looking tacky-phi-tacky. My auntie is now sporting a long red lacefront wig that's pulled into a high ponytail in the front and the rest tumbling down her back like some kind of ghetto Rapunzel. Dreya, for once, has a reasonable hairstyle. It's just her now shoulder-length hair lightly bumped with a flatiron. Her most noticeable accessory is a gigantic ring on her finger.

“Check this out!” Aunt Charlie says thrusting Dreya's hand into my face. “My daughter is getting married to a millionaire. Now y'all ain't gonna be the only ones with cash up in this piece.”

My mother shakes her head. “So this is how you're going to deal with the pregnancy?”

“You dang straight!” Aunt Charlie says. “When I found out my baby was pregnant, I went to Evan myself and told him he betta do the right thing. He went and bought a ring the same day, and proposed to Dreya.”

“Do you love him?” my mother asks Dreya.

“W-well . . .”

“That ain't got nothing to do with nothing,” Aunt Charlie interjects. “He loves her and this baby, and that's all that matters.”

“Dreya, honey, you aren't even nineteen. You should make sure this is what you want to do before you do it,” my mother says in a calmer voice.

“If she changes her mind, she can always get a divorce,” Manny says.

“Be quiet, boy!” Aunt Charlie says. “Go somewhere and play with some toys before I beat your behind.”

“I'm just sayin'.”

Manny takes off running just in time, because my mother and Aunt Charlie both lunge after him. He screams, “Y'all always trying to beat somebody! I'm calling the people!”

Dreya sits down next to me on the couch. “So, yeah, I'm pregnant,” she says.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

She chuckles and rubs the palms of her hands down her pants legs. “I'm sorry about the cheating thing. My girl has been doing this for a couple of years and she's never been caught. I thought it was safe.”

“But you knew that I wouldn't use the paper, though, so why would you do that?”

“I don't know. I guess I just want you to know that I'm down for you.”

I wrinkle my nose into a frown. “I don't cheat, Dreya. If you want me to know that you're down for me, then I need you to keep it real with me.”

“What do you mean? I always keep it all the way real.”

I shake my head. “No, you don't. You're getting married to Evan? What's up with that?”

“How could I say no?”

“You could've said you weren't ready.” Then it hits me like a ton of bricks in a sock. “Evan must know about Mystique. She's pregnant too.”

“She
would
get pregnant right now when I am!”

“That's exactly the same thing she said about you.”

Aunt Charlie snakes her neck so many times that her ponytail dances back and forth like a long red flame. “What!” she says. “That chick stays trying to steal my baby's shine. But that is okay, 'cause her fifteen minutes of fame is just about up.”

“We're not having one of those big ridiculous weddings like Mystique had though,” Dreya says. “We're flying all of our friends and family to St. Barts.”

“I'm not going,” my mother says. “I can't stand by and watch you throw away your youth.”

“Yes, you are!” Aunt Charlie says. “You are definitely going to support your niece!”

“What are you going to do, Charlene? Tranquilize me and drag me on the plane?”

Ooh, she called Aunt Charlie by her real name? She must be dead serious.

“If I have to, I will, Shawn. I have supported Sunday and I plan on being there when she walks down the aisle, so I expect you to do the same for Dreya.”

“I won't be walking down the aisle, I'll be standing on the beach!” Dreya high-fives her mother.

“That's right! At a five-star private resort that only celebrities use. I knew you'd retire me, baby! The day you were born, I said, this girl is gonna take care of me.”

My mother rolls her eyes. “If you insist that I be there to witness this foolishness, I will. I wouldn't want anyone to say that I don't support my family.”

Dreya says, “Sunday, who are you bringing for a date, Sam or DeShawn? You and Sam looked like y'all were about to get back together at the photo shoot.”

“No, we didn't. That was for the cameras, that's all.”

“Yeah, that's what your mouth says, but I know what I saw,” Dreya says. “I think I want you to be my maid of honor. I'll ask Evan to make Sam his best man.”

“Doesn't he have a best friend?”

“His bodyguard, Leo, and he's not gonna be messing up my wedding pictures with his mean mug. I think Sam would be much better.”

“It wouldn't be the first time I was stuck with Sam in a wedding. Mystique would love that you had the same bridal party she had.”

Dreya scowls. “Okay, scratch that. I'd rather have Leo or even Big D.”

“Since we are gonna be on the islands, I want a red, green, yellow, and black mother-of-the-bride gown! My hair can match,” Aunt Charlie says. Unfortunately, there is no punchline.

“Aunt Charlie, do you know those are Jamaican colors?”

“Jamaica, St. Barts, they all the same anyway!”

Dreya says, “Right, Sunday, stop hating on my mom's style. She can wear whatever she wants to my wedding.”

My mother slumps down into her favorite armchair. “Lord, what are you trying to teach me?”

“That you ain't in control of nothing!” Aunt Charlie says while giving Dreya yet
another
high five.

For the first time in a long time, I agree with my aunt.