by Nikki Carter
Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
Now I have to find somewhere to put all this on. We’ve got shared dressing rooms, even though Dreya pitched a fit about wanting her own. The guys have one, and the girls have one. Dancers, singers, roadies, and everybody else has to use the same dressing area.
Since the girls’ dressing room has been taken over by Dreya and a few dancers, I try to find some other corner or closet that might be acceptable. As much room as there is backstage, I can say that there aren’t many hiding places.
Just as I’m about to give up and squeeze in with Dreya, I see what looks like a broom closet. I hope it’s unlocked, because it’s perfect. It’s off in the cut and way backstage in a poorly lit corner. No BET cameras back here either. It’s exactly what I’m looking for.
I look over both shoulders to make sure no one has followed me, and then I rush to the door and open it without knocking.
I should’ve knocked.
My jaw drops open when I see Bethany and Truth lip-locked and tongue kissing in the closet. I feel like I’m totally on pause, because I don’t know if I should close the door back or say, “Gotcha!”
Finally, Bethany is the one who moves. She pushes Truth off of her and runs out of the closet with a mortified look on her face. Truth just gives me a sheepish grin, like I’m supposed to be cool with this.
“You’re tripping, you know that, right?” I ask.
“I’m just doing me. Your girl’s been hounding me since day one. I’m just giving her what she wants.”
If I didn’t have to perform in less than fifteen minutes, I would probably fight him right now. And of course, there are no cameras anywhere around catching this ratchedness on film! They catch my mama about to come to blows with a murderer’s sister, but Truth being the dog that he is, gets absolutely no airplay.
Truth wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and strides away.
“Make sure you get that glitter lip gloss off your neck,” I call as he walks away.
He looks back over his shoulder at me and laughs. This is so not a laughing matter. And why did I have to see it? Why can’t I be blissfully ignorant? Why I gotta be all up in the mix?
No, thank you.
But right now, I don’t have time to think about Truth, Bethany, and their ratchedness. I have to get ready to go on stage, and sing for my fans. We’re releasing “Can U See Me” and “Inbox Me” on iTunes tomorrow. Mystique thought it would be hot if we put them out on the same day.
Personally, I think she observed how heated I was about “Inbox Me” being my first single, and she wanted to keep the peace. Or maybe she doesn’t care about keeping the peace with me, because I’m just an artist and she’s the grand diva of Epsilon Records. Whatever the reason, I’m just glad I’m going to see some songwriter payout on my royalty statement.
That’s what’s up.
Finally I’m dressed, and I head back toward the stage area. The stage crew is walking around shouting orders, and Dilly takes my hand and leads me to where I need to stand behind the stage.
“Are you ready?” he asks.
“Yeah, I think so.” I do some more of Ms. Layla’s deep, cleansing breaths to help me get my mind right.
“I’ll let you know when you need to go out on stage,” Dilly says. “It won’t be long now, less than five minutes.”
Big D walks up to us and gives me a bear hug. “All right, my little platinum prodigy! Go out there and make your big brother proud!”
“That’s a lot of pressure, Big D,” I say with a chuckle. “I really didn’t need that right now. Ms. Layla said my aura is cloudy or something.”
He laughs out loud. “Cloudy? Nah, never that. You’re a star, baby girl.”
I like this. Love it in fact. There’s no better way to get me pumped than to tell me I’m a star. That’s called positive reinforcement. Know what I mean?
I can’t really hear what’s going on out on the stage. All I can hear is loud noise and applause. We’ve got a sellout audience. Okay, so what if the tickets were only ten dollars and the venue only holds three thousand people? A sellout crowd is a sellout crowd in my book.
Dilly hears something in his headset, taps me on the arm, and nods. “It’s time, Sunday. Just do what you do best.”
I start to run out on stage, and Dilly grabs me. “Your microphone!”
He switches on my wireless microphone, and I run out on the stage. As soon as I hear the music, I get pumped and forget all about my nerves.
The first song I perform is “Can U See Me.” I don’t know how some of the crowd knows the words since it has yet to be released, but when they start singing the chorus with me, I feel a total rush!
I messed up a couple of times on the choreography, but I don’t think anyone noticed. At least I didn’t fall on my butt!
When my set is finished, all of a sudden I’m dog tired! But the screaming crowd and their chant of “Sunday! Sunday!” was so worth it.
I run off stage with all of the dancers. They rush to change clothes for Dreya’s set, but I’m stopped by the BET cameras.
“How do you feel?” the cameraman asks.
“I feel totally drained! My adrenaline was all the way up out there. Now, I think I’m crashing!”
“Did you enjoy the performance?” he asks.
I nod as I take a swig of water from the bottle Dilly hands me. “This is hands down, one of the best nights of my life. I can’t believe that this is happening to me!”
As the words come out of my mouth, I see Bethany staring at me from a corner. She’s giving me a look that’s a mixture of hatred, jealousy, and sadness.
My mind flashes back to her and Truth slobbering each other down, and my heart feels heavy. Bethany was always one of us. She was part of Daddy’s Little Girls.
Now, it’s Dreya’s turn to start her set.
“Wish me luck,” she says to Bethany, who has now come closer.
Bethany swallows and says, “Break a leg.”
Bethany doesn’t say this with any malice, per se, but there is an undertone of negativity. I don’t think Dreya caught it, and maybe I wouldn’t have either if I hadn’t seen Bethany sucking face with Truth.
Everything in Dreya’s set starts off fine! She’s doing her thing. Her gyrating, half-singing, booty-popping thing that she does best.
I’m watching from backstage, and the crowd is eating it up. Every time she dips to the floor the guys roar, and every time she yells “Where my ladies at?” she gets a round of applause.
“Does Birmingham like dem dirty south girls?” Dreya asks.
The audience chants her lyrics back to her. “We like dem dirty, dirty, dirty south girls!”
She sings, “Come on tell me fellas, do you like them dirty south girls?”
Truth runs out from backstage and chants with the guys, “Them dirty, dirty south girls is what we like!”
The crowd roars again with thunderous applause when they see Truth. Dreya launches into her verses, and she starts off doing well.
Then … the unthinkable occurs.
Her track, the one she’s lip-synching to, skips to the hook of the song. It’s obvious to the crowd that she’s not singing live, and a few of them start to boo. She tries to recover and launch into the hook, but the booing gets a little louder.
Truth gets on the microphone and says, “Come on y’all! This my girl up here!”
I guess this works because the boos die down, and Dreya can sing again. I can tell she’s rattled, though. Her voice is shaking, and she’s stumbling through her dance moves.
When she finally seems to get back into the swing of things on her duet with Truth, “Love Is,” another ridiculous snafu happens! She grabs the microphone and stomps one of her feet, and the heel on her boot breaks!
Luckily, she doesn’t fall, and she makes the best out of the situation. She bends over and slowly unzips the boot, to screams and yells from the guys, and tosses it to the side of the stage. She does the same fo
r the other boot. When she’s done with the song, Truth calls some stage hands out. They carry Dreya off the stage with her legs outstretched and blowing kisses like a true diva.
As soon as they set her down outside the stage area, Dreya spontaneously combusts. She yells profanities at all of the stage hands, and calls them names. The BET camera guy is gonna have plenty of bleeping out to do on this reel before it’s fit for TV.
Ms. Layla strolls over when she hears Dreya screaming her name. “You’re making a fool of yourself,” Ms. Layla says. “It could’ve happened to anyone.”
Did I just see Dreya’s head spin around?
“I’m making a fool of myself?” Dreya asks. “I think you sabotaged me. You gave me that broken boot on purpose.”
“I would never do such a thing. That would only hurt my reputation as a concert stylist. You should be more concerned about learning to sing live so that you don’t need a track.”
Dreya explodes again. “You don’t tell me what I need to be concerned about! You better be concerned about getting me some boots that aren’t cheap, and won’t break on stage. Or I’ll ruin you! You hear me? I’ll ruin you.”
To this Ms. Layla throws her head back and laughs. “Honey, you don’t have the power to ruin me yet. Come and say that to me once you’ve done more than lip-synch to a track and shake your behind.”
Ms. Layla strides away leaving Dreya with no comeback at all. I guess Ms. Layla told her! Dreya better recognize. Ms. Layla is old school, and her daughter runs this industry.
Dreya seems to be irritated that all of us are staring at her in shock. She straightens her back, and blinks a few times. I know it’s to keep back the tears.
She yells, “Where is Bethany?”
Bethany makes herself immediately available. She runs up with a pair of shoes for Dreya to put on her stockinged feet.
“Thank you, girl. At least somebody here has my back.”
Bethany glances at me and swallows hard. “You know I ride or die for you, Drama.”
Wow. Phony on top of phony. I almost want to give Bethany a round of applause for her Academy Award-winning performance. But the uncomfortable look on her face keeps me from doing anything that might give away her true intentions.
For a fleeting instant, I wish things were like they used to be, with me, Dreya, and Bethany singing harmonies in the living room and making up dance steps in the garage. But things aren’t like they used to be anymore, and I haven’t the slightest idea how to get it back.
18
After the concert, the entire crew goes to Applebee’s for dinner. Of course the cameras are here to catch all of us looking tired and grumpy. The high from the concert has worn off, and I think we’re all pretty irritable, but no one more than Dreya.
She’s sitting at a table with Truth, still wearing her stage makeup because she wouldn’t let anyone touch her. She’s convinced that we’re all out to destroy her. Everyone but the two who are betraying her the most—Truth and Bethany.
Sam sits at a table with me, Big D, our makeup artist Regina, Shelly, and Bethany. Dilly’s with the stage crew because that’s where Big D told him to sit. Big D doesn’t want more drama for us when we get back to Atlanta, so he’s trying his best to minimize Dilly’s screen time on our reality show. I dig him for that. Big D is looking out for us and for his pocketbook at the same time. Can’t be mad at that.
“You had a great show, Sunday,” Sam says. “Every time I see you on stage, I can’t believe that I actually know you. You kind of transform out there.”
I give him a beaming smile in response. I can’t tell if he’s doing this for the cameras or if he’s for real. I’m hoping it’s for real, because that’s a heck of a compliment to get from a guy you kind of like.
Sam is wearing some kind of cologne that smells great and tickles my nose. He’s not wearing his signature spectacles tonight—he’s au naturel. He’s wearing an Epsilon Summer Tour T-shirt and some distressed jeans.
Shelly says, “I’m so proud of you, Sunday! I remember that first day you was up at the studio eating up everything in sight. You came downstairs and busted out that hook! I knew you were gonna be a celebrity.”
“Thanks, Shelly. I believe you when you say it.”
Sam looks stricken, “You don’t believe me?”
“Oh, stop acting, thirsty boy,” Regina says. “She believes you too.”
“Jacksonville Beach is next,” Big D says. “You ready for the next show?”
I sigh. “Do we get a break at all?”
“We’ll get to the hotel in the morning probably. Y’all perform that evening on the beach, so you’ll have the whole day to get some rest.”
“Dang!” I exclaim. “Y’all trying to kill me.”
Big D bursts into laughter. “Girl, you’re eighteen years old. If you can’t do this now, you’ll never hang in the business. You should be at your peak performance physically.”
“I guess,” I mumble.
“Can you hang?” he asks.
“Yeah. I can hang.”
Sam looks across the room at something, and his eyes light up. He starts humming, “Bummm, bum, bum, bum, bummmm, bummmm. Bummmm, bum, bum, bum, bummmmm.”
It’s the tune to the graduation march! I turn around and see the Applebee’s waiters and waitresses bringing over a dessert with a candle in it.
When I look back at Sam, he’s whipped out a graduation cap and tassel! He reaches across the table and places it on my head. Not only did he get the right color (royal blue), but he also remembered my National Honor Society gold tassel.
Big D grins at me as tears fill my eyes. He hands me my diploma and says, “The principal at Decatur High, Ms. Washburn, wanted me to congratulate you on your graduation. And she wants you to accept this diploma, and wishes you good luck in college!”
Big D hands Bethany her diploma as well, “Congratulations, Bethany. Thanks for being a part of the Epsilon crew.”
She smiles and says, “Thanks, Big D!”
I’m waiting for Big D to get up and hand Dreya a diploma too. But this doesn’t happen. Of course, she storms over to the table looking crazy.
“Where is my diploma, Big D? I’m sick of y’all playing me tonight.”
“Well, Drama, this celebration was supposed to be for all three of y’all, but unfortunately …”
“Unfortunately what?” Dreya asks.
“You didn’t graduate, ma. You’re a half credit short in English. You didn’t pass your final exam.”
“That’s a lie!” Dreya wailed. “Bethany and I used the same … study guide.”
Bethany looks away with a guilty expression on her face. I know what this means. I’ve seen that look before. Bethany and Dreya are professional cheaters. Their code word for cheat sheet is “study guide.” That way they can fool my mom.
Usually, Bethany provides the “study guides” that she gets from a friend. Dreya lived and died by those cheat sheets, because it would never occur to her to actually study for a test. But it is interesting that Bethany passed the test and graduated and Dreya did not.
Did Bethany not cheat?
Or did she give Dreya a fake cheat sheet?
If it’s the latter, then Bethany is on some fouler stuff than I thought she was. This whole jealousy thing is getting deep.
“I didn’t need that study guide, Dreya. I had my own notes,” Bethany says after taking too long a pause before responding.
Dreya narrows her eyes, and a dark shadow seems to pass over her face. “Guess I should’ve studied harder. I’ll make it up with my tutor after the tour.”
“That’s right,” Big D says. “You don’t have a choice, ma. No diploma, no recording contract.”
Dreya rolls her eyes at Big D and sashays back over to her private table with Truth. It looks like he attempts to console Dreya by giving her a hug, but she shrugs him off and plops down at the table.
Bethany asks, “This was almost as good as crossing the stage, right, Sunday?”
“Ummmm … not really! But I wouldn’t trade this night for anything. The energy that the crowd had was off the chain. I hope that the rest of the crowds are like that.”
“You keep singing like you do, and they will be,” Big D says.
Dilly strides over to our table, with a grin on his face. Big D looks annoyed, but he doesn’t send him away.
“Hey, Sunday, I heard you graduated. Since you showed me off at your prom, I just wanted to congratulate you.”
“Thanks, Dilly.”
Dilly then turns his attention to Bethany. “Congratulations to you too, girl. Looks like we’re the only ones on this tour not coupled up, so maybe we can hang out a little bit in our down time.”
“Y’all ain’t the only ones not coupled up,” I say quickly. Too quickly if you judge by the evil expression on Sam’s face.
“Oh, do you want me to holla at you, Sunday?” Dilly asks.
“Naw. I just want you to know that you’re not alone. You don’t have to feel pressured to have a boo out here.”
Sam chimes in. “Right. Sunday doesn’t know much about coupling up.”
Sam looks annoyed beyond belief as I give him a “what did I do” expression. I know exactly what I did, but I had to do it. I don’t want Dilly chasing after Bethany. She’s beyond used goods. And plus, she’s already got one boo on this tour. No need for her to hog all the guys.
Dilly locks eyes with Big D, and I guess he decides that his time is up. “I’ma let y’all enjoy your food.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Sam says.
Sam gives Dilly a little shooing motion with his hand, dismissing him from the table. Now, he knows he’s dead wrong for that. Dilly doesn’t deserve that.
Dilly acts like the bigger man and doesn’t retaliate. He walks back over to his crew without saying another word.
I poke my lips out at Sam and flare my nose angrily. “You wrong,” I say.
“What?”
Big D, Regina, and Shelly start laughing. When Sam and Bethany join in too, I can’t help but chuckle a little bit. I swallow that jovial activity, however, when I catch a glimpse of Dilly. He looks hurt, like he thinks we’re laughing at him.