by Nikki Carter
Dreya gives her mother a weak smile. “I know that’s right, Ma.”
Aunt Charlie turns toward me. “Sunday, you watch and learn boo. Let Dreya show you what Tollivers are made of. Y’all be cool on this tour. Don’t make me have to bail nobody out!”
I roll my eyes extra hard as Aunt Charlie bounces, bobs, and dances off the bus.
“Where is my bed?” Dreya asks wearily.
Bethany shows her to the back of the bus and even throws the covers back for Dreya to get in.
Sam elbows me. “Looks like somebody is trying to steal your job.”
“Yeah. She’ll eventually do something to get on Dreya’s nerves, though. They can’t stand each other.”
“So why did Dreya ask her to come on the tour?”
“To get back at me. She thinks Truth wants me, just because he gave me a ride in his new car.”
“For real? When did that happen?”
Dang. Me and my loose lips. I forgot that I didn’t mention that to Sam.
“I don’t know. I think it was the day you took me to the aquarium.”
Sam nods. “Wow. You conveniently forgot to tell me about that one. Wonder why?”
“Because it wasn’t important.”
“Yeah, I guess. Wake me up when we get to Birmingham.”
Sam leans his chair back and closes his eyes. I can’t figure out if he’s mad at me or not. Maybe I should’ve told him about Truth trying to push up on me. Now it seems too late to make that revelation without him thinking I was feeling some kind of way about Truth.
Truth and his boys are drinking champagne and chilling loudly, near the middle section of the bus. It doesn’t look like Truth showered or changed clothes, because he’s still wearing that greasy-looking wifebeater.
Bethany finishes tucking Dreya in and takes her seat right in the center of Truth and his boys. She’s already picked which one of Truth’s entourage she wants to get cozy with for the tour. Honestly, I don’t care which one she picks as long as she’s not in Sam’s face.
“Hey, Sunday,” Truth yells. “What did you think about the show?”
“It was hot,” I yell back. “You did a good set.”
“Now see, I believe it when she says it, because Sunday is real. The rest of y’all some groupies.”
Uh-oh. I think Truth drank a little bit too much truth serum.
“That’s a real chick right there.” Truth slurs some of his words as he points in my direction. “And she can blow, too. She can out sing my baby, but she ain’t fly like Drama.”
Big D pulls Truth’s shirt and makes him sit down. “Man, close your eyes and get some rest. You’ve got five cities to go. Save all that for after the tour.”
And with that it was lights-out for everybody on the bus, including Truth. Since I’m not tired, I turn on my iPod and listen to a few of Mystique’s songs. I can’t wait until New York, so I can meet her and get my big break. This assistant/groupie stuff is for the birds.
Plus, if I don’t get away from Truth and Dreya soon, I think something is gonna end up popping off. But my meeting with Mystique is only a few days away. We can hold it together for that long, right?
21
Dreya’s entire staff is piled into her Birmingham hotel suite, helping her get ready for the mall concert that happens in an hour. The hairstylist did something new with her short do. It’s curled in hundreds of miniature spirals. Very cute.
The makeup artist is working on her now. She’s spraying foundation onto her face from what looks like a spray-paint can. I’ve provided the twelve-pack of Sprite, which was a pain, because the only store I had access to was the gas station store, which didn’t have twelve-packs. So I had to buy twelve separate cans of Sprite. Aaarrggh!
Get this, though. Bethany is rubbing Dreya’s feet. She’s got a big bottle of oil, has lit some aromatherapy candles, and is giving Dreya a foot rub. If that’s what it takes to be Dreya’s perfect assistant, Bethany can have that job. I’m not rubbing on anybody’s feet. Especially not Dreya’s evil self.
There’s a knock on the door. I open the door and it’s Sam.
“I’m not fully dressed!” Dreya shouts. “Don’t let none of them hardheads in here!”
I step out into the hallway and give Sam a hug. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah, I did. How about you?”
“Bethany was on the phone half the night, but I finally did fall asleep.”
“Who was she talking to?”
“Her friends back home. Bragging about the tour, being on the tour bus, all that.”
“Did she brag about rubbing on Dreya’s crusty feet?”
“I know, right? Probably not. She’s taking this assistant job to the extreme.”
“So, I mentioned to Big D about you and Bethany singing backup for Dreya.”
“And?”
“He wanted to give Dreya another chance at the mall today before we implement that. He says the club was noisy last night, and that it was her first time out. He wants her to get the hang of how to project her voice on stage.”
“Okay. It’s cool. We’ll see what happens.”
“Make sure everyone’s luggage is in the hallway. We leave for Orlando as soon as the mall show is over. It’s an eight-hour drive.”
“Okay.”
I go back into the room, and Bethany is still rubbing on Dreya.
“Bethany, why don’t you get up and help get Dreya’s stuff together. They want to pack the bus up, and she’ll be mad if any of her stuff gets left behind.”
Bethany looks up at Dreya as if for approval. Dreya gives her a slight nod and waves her hand.
Bethany jumps up and starts looking around the room to compile all of Dreya’s shoes, clothes, toiletries, and everything else. She scurries around the room like an Oompa-Loompa at Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. I’m in chill mode, moving briskly, but cool at the same time.
The makeup artist turns Dreya around to the mirror to view the finished product. That girl has done wonders on Dreya’s acne-prone skin. I can’t see a blackhead, blemish, pimple, or freckle—just a layer of bronze makeup.
“You look good,” I comment.
“I do, don’t I?” Dreya replies.
I shake my head and toss a pair of flip-flops from underneath the bed into Dreya’s suitcase. I mean, could she try to be a little bit modest?
A little later, we’re all on the bus and on our way to the mall. I don’t know how much promotion they’ve done for this tour, but I blasted it to all of Dreya’s Twitter followers (which have grown to over four thousand in a week) and to her Facebook fan group.
Sam handles Truth’s Twitter account, which is even funnier than Dreya’s. I can’t even count the number of direct messages Truth has received that include pictures of half-naked (and all the way naked) teenage girls. Digital cameras take groupies to a whole other level.
On the way to the mall, I get a phone call from my mother. “Hi, Mommy.”
“Hey, Sunday. Is everything going okay on the tour so far? Is everyone behaving?”
“Yes, Mom. Everyone is behaving. How are you doing? You sound sad.”
“It’s nothing. I don’t want to worry you with it right now. I want you to have fun.”
“Mommy, you know I’m not gonna have fun if I think you’re at home sad about something.”
“Honey, it’s nothing you can help with. I just miss Carlos. Not hearing from him is torture.”
“If he’s hiding out, he’ll get word to you soon, I’m sure.”
“Just have fun, baby, and don’t let Dreya steal your joy.”
I give a soft chuckle. “I won’t let her steal it. She’s too busy stealing Bethany’s joy.”
“That poor girl! She wants to be rich and famous so badly.”
“Mommy, she rubs Dreya’s feet!”
Now I hear my mother laughing. “What? Dreya is out of control! Just a few weeks ago she was getting peed on by Manny in the middle of the night, and now she’s got people
rubbing on her feet?”
“Not people. Just Bethany.”
“How’s my future son-in-law?” my mother asks. I know she’s talking about Sam.
“Why are you trying to marry me off? I haven’t even graduated from high school yet.”
“I know. I just really like him. He’s a nice guy.”
“I like him, too, but I ain’t trying to marry the dude!”
Again I hear my mother laugh. Music to my ears.
“Okay, sweetie. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will. Bye!”
I press End on my phone and Sam is staring at me. “What?”
“Who were you talking about at the end? Who do you like?”
I give him a tight frown. “Dang, you nosy. Why you all up in mine?”
“Were you talking about me or Truth?”
I laugh out loud. “What are you tripping on, boy?”
“Nothing.”
When we get to the mall, there’s no dressing room or backstage area. Just a platform in the middle of the mall, a CD player for the track and a few microphones. A step down from the club, but cool nonetheless. The show is about to start in a few minutes, and a small crowd of teenagers has started to form around the stage.
“I love you, Truth!” a young girl screams up at the stage.
“I love you, too, baby!” he yells back.
Sam, Big D, and I crack up laughing at the look on Dreya’s face. She looks ready to jump off the stage and punch that poor little girl out. Instead, she does her microphone sound check with a frown on her face.
Big D says, “She better get used to groupies. It hasn’t even started yet!”
By the time we’re ready to start the show, there’s about fifty people standing near the stage. Only fifty people showed up for a free concert? It’s a good thing they didn’t charge admission.
They kick off the show with Truth’s album tracks, and close it out with “What Ya Gonna Do.” The small crowd is energetic to say the least. What they don’t have in numbers, they make up for with the handful of screaming teenagers who can’t seem to get enough of Truth, his long locs, and his skintight tank top.
Truth yells to the crowd, “Thank you, Birmingham! Don’t forget to cop that album. It’ll be in stores soon.”
The tiny crowd disperses, and Dreya just stands on the stage looking dumbfounded, like she can’t believe she just did a concert for a handful of people.
Big D says, “All right, y’all. We’re gonna hit the food court and then we’re right back on the road. We’ve got an eight-hour drive to Orlando.”
Dreya asks, “Where in the world is everybody? Did they not know we were coming?”
“It’s a holiday, sweetie,” Big D says. “Everyone’s at home about to grub on turkey. The mall closes early today, so hurry up and get yourself something to eat.”
Dreya walks down the platform stairs in a daze. Bethany is waiting at the bottom of the stairs to collect her.
“Come on,” Bethany says, “I’ll get you some Panda Express.”
As they walk away, Sam and I burst into laughter. “Oh, my goodness, did you see her face?” I ask.
“The diva is looking throwed right now! She’s tripping that nobody came checking for her.”
I say, “She needed that, though, because her head was way too big. Got people rubbing her feet like she’s a platinum-selling artist already.”
“I’m still laughing at how she looked at that little girl from the stage,” Sam adds. “That poor little girl was about to get stole on.”
“I know! What’s the itinerary for Orlando? Is it another mall show?”
“We’re actually there for two days. We’ll get there tonight and then tomorrow is the show. And yeah, it’s another mall show. The bus will pull off the next morning on the way to Charlotte, which is a nine-hour drive.”
“Yikes—nine hours? Will they have to perform that night?”
“Yep, at the local radio station’s Turkey Jam. It’s a free concert, but there should be a big crowd, because they’ve got some headliners on the roster.”
“What kind of headliners?” I ask. “Is Mystique gonna be there?”
Sam laughs out loud. “Nah, she doesn’t do free concerts. Ginuwine is the headliner.”
“Ginuwine! He’s like forty years old, right?”
“I don’t know if he’s that old, but the ladies still come out to see him!”
“That’s an older crowd, though. Will they be feeling Dreya and Truth?”
“I don’t know. We’ll see. A gig is a gig.”
Big D directs the crew to grab all of their stuff from the stage and head back to the bus. Instead of using the stairs, he jumps off the stage and lands in front of me and Sam. “What did y’all think?”
“It was cool,” Sam says. “I don’t think Drama can handle the low attendance.”
Big D laughs out loud. “She’ll get used to it. It’s part of the game.”
“But what about what we discussed—with Sunday backing her up?” Sam asks.
“We’re gonna implement that at the Turkey Jam.”
“What if Dreya doesn’t want to do it?” I ask.
Big D replies, “It’s not her decision. She’s just gonna have to get over it. Y’all need to get something to eat. We need to be on the bus in an hour.”
Sam and I head up to the food court, and we notice a small crowd around the Panda Express. Truth and Dreya have been mobbed by a group of teenagers wanting autographs. Dreya beams happily as she signs the little slips of paper and flyers from the record store.
“It’s a good thing she got mobbed like this. I sure didn’t want to be on the bus with her for eight hours in a foul mood,” I say to Sam.
“Right. Let’s get some McDonald’s. You want your dollar-menu special?”
“You know it!” I say.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Sam says. “I bought you something before the show started.”
My eyes light up. “What did you get me?”
“It’s nothing, really.” He fishes in his pocket and pulls out a box from Claire’s.
I take it from his hands with a smile. “Thank you!”
Inside the box is a silver charm bracelet with one charm. It has the letter S dangling from it with a small pink crystal in the middle of the letter.
“It’s not real or anything. I just thought it was cute, and it has my initial.”
“I noticed that. But it’s my initial, too. So will anybody get the message?”
He shrugs. “As long as you know what it means. You’re my girl, so Truth can step.”
“I’m your girl? Is that a request or a demand?”
“I thought you wanted to be my girl. I’m just giving you what you want.”
“It’s not that I’m not feeling you, because I am. But I want to get this paper right now. College is calling my name.”
“You can’t get this money and be my girl?”
“Maybe…but do I have to decide right now?”
Sam frowns. “Why not? Do you want to still give Truth a chance?”
“Dead that. I ain’t thinking about him.”
I clip on the bracelet and smile up at Sam. “I like this. Thank you.”
“Well, just like I’m planning to take you to a real dinner when we blow up, I’ll buy you some real jewelry, too.”
“Okay. I’m gonna hold you to that. Every girl likes diamonds.”
“Even you? I thought you weren’t a girly girl.”
“I’m not, but I like diamonds!”
“Okay, so when we blow up, I’m gonna ice you all the way out!”
I give Sam a hug. Not an “I’m your girlfriend” kind of hug, but a hug that says, “I’m your friend.” He takes it, I guess, because he knows that’s all I’m offering to him right now.
I’ve got my mind on a come-up, and even though Sam has this crush thing happening, his mind is on a come-up, too.
I love how he says when we blow up instead of if we blow up!
I mean, you can’t achieve something if you don’t believe it!
And trust, I believe it.
22
I’m glad I thought to pack my swimsuit, because it’s still warm when we make it into Orlando. Plus, our hotel has a heated indoor pool. Everyone agrees that a pool party is exactly what we need to unwind from being on the road all day.
Bethany and I silently change in our hotel room. We haven’t really had any conversation on this tour so far. I’m irritated that she’s even here, so I really don’t feel the need to irritate myself further by talking to her.
“So we aren’t friends anymore?” Bethany asks.
“Girl, please. After what you did with Romell, I can’t even believe you’re asking me that.”
“You and Romell weren’t even together. Why do you care if I talked to him?”
“I don’t care that you talked to him, but the reason why you talked to him is what made us not be friends.”
Bethany slides a swimsuit cover-up over her head. It’s not really covering anything up because it’s sheer and clingy, but I’m sure that’s the effect that she was going for.
“Oh, really?” Bethany asks. “The reason I talked to Romell is because I’ve always liked him, even before you two got together.”
“Whatever, Bethany.”
“You always want to say whatever when you’re the one in the wrong. You knew that I liked him and then you stole him for yourself. Like you do with all the boys.”
I roll my eyes. “Bethany, look, I don’t care. I’m not on that anymore with you. You and Dreya can be friends if you want to, but you and I are not.”
“What about Daddy’s Little Girls?”
I laugh out loud. “If you hadn’t already noticed, the group has been disbanded. There is no more Daddy’s Little Girls.”
“So just like that, you’re giving up on our dreams? What about the red carpets, traveling all over the world doing concerts, the Grammys and all that?”
“Those were your dreams, Bethany. I’m not stopping you from achieving any of that. Why don’t you talk to Big D about getting yourself a record deal? The industry could always use another Britney Spears. Lord knows, you’re a train wreck waiting to happen.”