Can't Stop the Shine

by Joyce E. Davis

  “I’m gonna make the finals,” she said, giving herself a pep talk in the mirror. “I’m gonna be one of the eight. I’m talented, I’ve practiced hard. I’m gonna do my best, and I’m gonna make it.”

  Mari loved Atlanta in December. It was never that cold this time of year, with the average temperature usually hovering in the fifties. Stuffing her hands in the pockets of her navy pea coat, she breathed in the crisp air as she stood outside the Fox Theater looking at all the holiday decorations lining Peachtree Street. She turned her head left and right, keeping watch for Colby and Shauntae, who were supposed to be meeting her out front at 7:15. She was so excited about her sister’s performance she’d rushed her mother to make sure they were on time. They were a half an hour early, so Elaine wanted to check out a few boutiques, but Mari decided to hang out in front of the Fox to make sure she wouldn’t miss her girls.

  After sending them a text message that she was already at the theater, she looked at all the different people dipping in and out of stores, arms filled with bags and packages. She wondered what Christmas was going to be like in the Jefferson house that year, with her parents sleeping in separate rooms. She doubted they’d be drinking eggnog and singing carols around the tree like they did when she was younger. Warm memories of all of her immediate family members sitting around their gigantic dining room table grubbing down on her mother’s Christmas feast almost brought tears to Mari’s eyes. She must have been ten or eleven the last time the family Christmas celebration was at the Jefferson house. Christmas had moved to Auntie Cheryl’s house ever since her mother’s sister had married Uncle James and they had two children. It had always been a rule in her mother’s family that Christmas celebrations were held at the family’s house that had the youngest children, so the babies and toddlers and their parents wouldn’t have to be uprooted on that hectic day.

  The rule worked out well for us, thought Mari, straining to see if her girls were coming down the street. Because Elaine was nine years older than Auntie Cheryl, Mari and Kalia were the youngest children on her mother’s side of the family for years. Christmas had been at their house for more than a decade before the big change. Mari watched a man help his elderly father across the street and wondered like she did every Christmas what her father must be feeling since he grew up an orphan, being shuffled from one foster home to another until he went into the Army at age eighteen. He never talked about his childhood, and even though he usually started out Christmas in the spirit, it was too much of the spirits that had him just sober enough to drive home from Auntie Cheryl’s house.

  Mari shook her head to rid herself of the image of her inebriated father slumped down in a Lay-Z-Boy quietly cursing at a football game as the rest of the family fellowshipped all around him. She hoped something would catapult him out of ending the holiday in a funk that year. Seeing her mother approaching, she didn’t have much hope.

  “Your friends aren’t here yet, sweetie?” said Elaine, bending down to consolidate the several bags she was carrying.

  “Nope. I see you did well in thirty minutes,” said Mari, trying to look in the packages.

  “No peeping, you silly girl. Do you wanna spoil your Christmas? I’ll tell Santa to leave coal in your stocking.”

  “If I catch a big fat man in our house on Christmas Eve, I’m calling the police.”

  “Ha-ha. Look who’s not in the Christmas spirit,” said Elaine, unbuttoning her coat.

  Mari didn’t want to tell her mother that thoughts of her daddy were driving her to feel a little like the Grinch.

  “I’m in the spirit, Ma,” she assured her mother, looking around at the number of people starting to enter the theater. She didn’t want to get caught up in any lines or thick crowds and end up getting to her seat late. “I just wish Shauntae and Colby would come on.”

  “Did you call them?”

  “Shauntae just sent me a text message that they were on their way. I bet they ran into traffic.”

  “Well here’s one of Santa’s little helpers now,” said Elaine, motioning to Dewayne, who’d just turned the corner. “Oh, and there’s Cheryl. I’m gonna go on in with your aunt. I’ll see you inside.”

  “Okay, Ma,” said Mari, waving at Dewayne. She noticed his clothes weren’t wrinkled and his hair was freshly cut. He really wasn’t half-bad looking, she thought.

  “What it be like?” said Dewayne.

  “It’s like late and Shauntae and Colby ain’t here yet.”

  “Well, what time did you tell them to get here?’

  “Seven-fifteen.”

  “Aww, give ’em a break. They’re just a few minutes late,” said Dewayne, looking at his watch.

  “I don’t know why black folks can’t ever be on time.”

  “’Cause we know the party don’t get crunk until two hours after it starts,” said Dewayne, bouncing his shoulders in some lame imitation of Lil Jon.

  “Well, I’m about to leave them, and they’re going to be hot because I’ve got their tickets,” said Mari, turning toward the theater. “They’ve got two minutes.”

  “They don’t need ’em,” said Dewayne, pointing at Colby, Shauntae and Sean coming up the street.

  “Hey, Mari,” said Colby.

  “What’s going on, y’all?” said Sean, giving Dewayne a pound.

  “What’s up?” said Mari, looking at her watch. “It’s like seven twenty-five. Come on. Let’s go on inside.”

  “Man, I don’t want to go to this mess,” said Shauntae, twisting up her mouth.

  “What? What are you talking about?” asked Mari, annoyed.

  “I heard there was this hot party going on down by the black colleges. I’m trying to hit that,” said Shauntae, untying the belt on her black three-quarter-length leather jacket.

  “We’ve been trying to convince her that no college party is going to get started until after eleven, so she might as well come on with us to the show and then we can go downtown,” said Colby.

  “I’m really not trying to sit up there and look at a bunch of kids who can’t sing,” said Shauntae.

  “Then why did you come down here?” asked Mari.

  “I thought if I told y’all about this college joint, you’d dump this kid stuff and come kick it with the big boys and girls.” Shauntae smirked. “Plus, I’m hungry, too. Let’s go get something to eat, then it’ll be time to hit the party.”

  “I am not going anywhere. My sister is performing tonight, and I’m going to see her,” said Mari, glancing at her watch again.

  “Well, go on. Watch your damned sister try to win a fake American Idol,” said Shauntae, turning to Sean, Colby and Dewayne. “So whatcha’ll gon’ do? You gon’ see this talent show mess, or are you gon’ step up your game and come with me? You see I broke out the big guns for them college guys. It’s gonna be on tonight.”

  She turned around, modeling the shortest, lowest-cut red sweater dress that Mari thought she’d ever seen. Men passing by were stopping in their tracks looking at Shauntae’s breasts, which were much more than just on display. They were the main event.

  “Dang, girl,” said Dewayne, trying not to stare at Shauntae.

  “You need to put those away, girl, before some cop gives you a ticket for indecent exposure,” said Sean.

  “Pleeeze,” she said, moving closer to Sean. “You had your chance, but you went with Miss Straight and Narrow.”

  “And I’m happy I did,” he said, hugging Colby from behind.

  “Whatever. I don’t want no high school cat anyway. I’ma get me a college man. That’s what’s up.”

  Impatient and bored with the whole scene, Mari breathed hard, rolling her eyes to the heavens.

  “Look, you all can do whatever you want, but I’m out,” said Mari, walking toward the theater.

  “Hold up, Mari. We’re coming,” said Colby, pulling Sean with her. Dewayne followed.

  “Y’all so young acting. You need to leave that high school mess alone,” Shauntae shouted after them, her hands o
n her hips. Mari didn’t even turn around. She knew the only reason Shauntae was yelling at them was to bring more attention to herself.

  “Why did you even bring her down here?” Mari asked Colby as they gave their tickets to the usher at the front door.

  Colby shrugged. “She said she wanted to come, and when we got in the car she started talking about that college party.”

  “She really gets on my last nerve.”

  “Well, she’s outta here,” said Sean, closing the subject. “What’s up with your sister? You wanna try to go backstage real quick and tell her good luck?”

  “You can really hook that up, Sean?” asked Mari.

  “You know I got skills, baby,” said Sean, flashing a kilowatt smile and patting down his wavy fro with one hand. Colby grinned up into his freckly face.

  “Thanks, man. This is so cool,” said Mari as she, Colby and Dewayne followed him through a side door.

  After navigating a maze of nondescript corridors and security guards at every door, they finally got to the area where the contestants were preparing. There was chaos going on backstage. All kinds of music was playing, both live and recorded. It was hard to tell who the contestants were, there were so many people, friends and family, musicians, technicians and stagehands milling around. People were shouting and singing and running around frantically trying to find everything under the sun—a safety pin, eye liner, even deodorant. Mari saw one girl, who she knew was a contestant by the ridiculous amount of makeup she had on, crying so badly that she had to sit down.

  She just knew she’d never find Kalia in all of the insanity, but as she neared the back of the dressing room, she saw her sister sitting in front of a mirror with her eyes closed, her head leaning in her hands. Colby, Sean and Dewayne started toward Kalia, but Mari held up her hand for them to wait. She looked at her sister for a minute, not really wanting to disturb her peace. Suddenly as if she knew she was being watched, Kalia opened her eyes and turned to see her friends looking at her. When Mari saw the calm, confident smile spread across her sister’s face as she waved them over, she knew Kalia was going to make it into the finals.

  I would have to go after Asha, Kalia thought, standing in the stage wings watching the excellent performance of the girl who’d been crying so hard earlier that she’d almost hyperventilated.

  “That’s just her routine,” her mother had told several people before the show started. “She has to get that emotion all worked up and moving around, and she uses that when she sings.”

  At the time Kalia thought that was a whole lot to go through to have a good performance, but when she heard the girl wear out some old-school Mary J. Blige and saw the audience jump to their feet and applaud crazily before she could even finish, she began to think differently. After the three American Idol-style judges all praised her, even Carter LeGrand, the wannabe Simon Cowell, Kalia wished she had some kind of emotional routine.

  But she didn’t. All she felt was afraid. She was trying to turn that fear into positive anticipation, but she was having a hard time. It helped a great deal that her sister came backstage with her friends, but getting into the finals was really up to her and only her. The pressure was on, and she was literally shaking. One minute she wished her mother had come backstage, and the next she was glad she hadn’t. To stop herself from pacing, she went back over to the wall where the performance order was listed. She was eleventh, right behind Asha. At least an intermission separated them.

  Why couldn’t I have been first? At least it would have been over with, she thought, walking back to the stage wing to watch the sixth performer, a blond-haired, blue-eyed stacked Jessica Simpson look-alike, who had the audacity to wear a short dress that accentuated her knock-knees. Her voice cracked so much, Kalia knew it had to be nerves because she would have never been able to make it through the auditions unless she had some talent. While Lola Sanchez, the celebrity makeup artist-turned-judge tried to give the knocked-kneed girl some constructive criticism, Carter ripped her apart for everything from her style to her weak performance. The last judge, a pudgy washed-up b-boy from the eighties who still went by Big Spinner, just shook his head and gave her a thumbs down. And the audience just oohed and aahed through the judges’ comments.

  Kalia watched the girl come off stage to be embraced by her boyfriend and wondered where Malcolm was. They’d been spending so much time together and he’d been so giving and attentive, she just knew he’d show up backstage with roses or something, but he was missing in action when she really needed him. Just like her father, who was probably still at one of his restaurants, she thought, holding onto the curtain in the wings. Her mind was jumping around. She needed to calm down. After watching the blond girl get reamed by Carter, she decided she didn’t need to see any more singers.

  She walked back toward the dressing room, which was still buzzing, longing for some quiet place to get her mind together. Strolling through the hallways, she remembered her mother bringing her and her sister to see productions like The Wiz and A Raisin in the Sun when they were children. She’d wanted to be onstage even back then, and now that she was getting her chance, she found herself trying to get as far away from it as possible. Finally at the end of a long corridor, she discovered an empty dressing room and deposited herself there and closed the door. At least there was a monitor in the room, so she’d be able to know when intermission started. She fiddled with the remote, trying to take the TV off mute, but was unsuccessful, so she spent the next three singers’ performances dabbing the sweat off her carefully applied makeup, picking imaginary lint off her outfit and trying not to watch the monitor.

  Kalia couldn’t help but look at Asha’s performance. Striking in a white haltered backless fitted jumpsuit with wide-leg pants, white ribbon-strapped stilettos and a huge white flower behind her ear, she strolled out on stage as if she’d sang for crowds of thousands millions of times. There was still no sound, but Kalia could tell by Asha’s expressions and the audience’s reactions panned by the cameras that Asha was blowing them away. As she moved back and forth, her wavy waist-length hair swung this way and that, giving her what Kalia thought was real star appeal.

  Wishing she could tear herself away from the monitor, Kalia stood transfixed as the cameras showed large smiles on the faces of Lola and Big Spinner. Even Carter was looking entertained. Asha bowed at the judges professionally and waved at the standing, applauding and whistling audience as she walked offstage. It was only then that Kalia could move, but it was in a daze. She opened the door and made her way to the dressing room.

  Chaos was going on all around her, but she didn’t hear much. The fog didn’t even lift when Sean brought her mother and her aunt backstage during intermission. She accepted their hugs and well wishes, but she couldn’t remember what they said. Her eyes were focused on the large ticker in the front of the dressing room that counted down the minutes and seconds for intermission. When it reached five minutes, she heard her name called by the stage manager. Her mother gave her one last squeeze and she, Sean and her sister rushed off to their seats. Kalia stood in the wings, clasping her hands together tightly. She prayed to the Creator for a good performance as the announcer boomed her name.

  Kalia had no idea how she made it to the middle of the stage or from where the cordless microphone came that she was clutching for dear life. As the lights focused on her, she was blinded and couldn’t see the audience or the judges to her left, but she knew they were out there. She was at war with herself. You’ve performed in at least fifty concerts, said the confidant Kalia. But that was just junior high and high school, said her alter ego. Oh God, I’m going insane, thought yet a third Kalia. Relax and get it together, a fourth Kalia scolded. Hearing the intro to “Fallin’,” she decided she’d better listen to the last Kalia, who seemed to have the best grip on herself.

  She held the mic with both hands, bent her head down, took a deep breath and let out the first note. A little fluttery at first, she improved rapidly. She felt the lyrics s
oar out of her, and by the time she finished, she just knew she’d knocked it out because she heard the audience clapping. When the house lights were brought up, the audience wasn’t on their feet as they were at the end of Asha’s performance. Kalia held her hand above her head, shielding her eyes from the lights to see if she could find her family in the audience. Still searching, she heard someone calling her name and realized it was Big Spinner.

  As she turned to face the judges, she heard several loud claps and “Woo-hoo, Kalia” and knew it was her family and friends, but her mind wasn’t eased. Kalia couldn’t understand why the audience wasn’t giving her a standing ovation, but the judges did.

  “Kalia, Kalia, Kalia, such a pretty name for such an uptight performance,” sang Big Spinner. “We thought you were going to choke that mic to death.”

  The audience joined Big Spinner and Carter, snickering and laughing.

  Lola looked at Kalia pityingly. “Well maybe she was just a little nervous. She wouldn’t be the first,” said Lola. If there was one thing Kalia didn’t want, it was someone to have to come to her rescue. She stood silently nodding, a plastic tight-lipped smile plastered on her face. She wanted to accept her criticism gracefully, but felt she’d burst into tears any minute—either that or storm across the stage and knock every one of those judges in the head with the mic.

  “Were you nervous, sweetie?” asked Lola.

  “A little bit,” she managed to get out, gripping the mic so tightly in her left hand that she knew her fingernails were drawing blood in her palm.

  “Well, lots of people are, and we could only tell for the first couple of lines. After you got yourself together, you were terrific. You captured the emotions in the song very well,” said Lola.