Not A Good Look

by Nikki Carter

  Yeah, someone needs to invent this mess eraser! Pronto!

  29

  “Congratulations, Sunday. You stay surprising everybody,” Truth says as we chill in the lounge at the studio.

  “What you surprised about?” I ask.

  “That record deal with Mystique. We on tour and you and Sam having little creep-move meetings with Big D.”

  “It wasn’t a creep move. We wrote a song for her and Big D set up the meeting.”

  “Well, y’all didn’t tell anybody it was going down,” Truth says.

  I’m trying to figure out what I hear in his tone. Is he mad, jealous, or what? His face is smiling, but his eyes are definitely doing something else.

  “The record deal was totally unexpected. Sam and I were just trying to sell her this song we wrote for her.”

  “It’s cool, hustla. You came up.”

  “Thanks. Your girlfriend isn’t happy, though.”

  “She’ll get over it. Shoot, we can all eat.”

  I give Truth a fist bump. “I’m saying! There’s enough room for everybody.”

  “Y’all don’t even do the same kind of music, so I can’t believe she hatin’ like that.”

  “She’s tripping for real. She tried to tell Big D that she didn’t want me on the tour.”

  “He told me. I got on her about that. You always supposed to have love for your fam when they come up. I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

  Dreya and Big D walk into the room, so Truth and I end our conversation. But not before Dreya caught the tail end.

  “You don’t know what’s wrong with who?” Dreya asks.

  Truth laughs. “G’on ’head girl, with all that drama. I ain’t in the mood.”

  Big D holds his hands up. “Time out, y’all. I got some good news about the tour.”

  Dreya plops down on the couch next to Truth. “The tour that Sunday is crashing?”

  “No,” Big D says, “the tour that Epsilon Records invited her to join. Stop tripping, girl.”

  “Whatever.” She rolls her eyes at me and flips me the bird. Wow.

  “After the crowd went crazy for y’all on 106 & Park, BET decided to do a reality show on y’all tour. They’re sending a camera crew with y’all to every city.”

  Truth jumps up and hugs Big D. “That’s what’s up!”

  “Wow! That’s hot,” I say. “We’re gonna be hood stars, like Tiny & Toya and The Real Housewives.”

  Dreya laughs. “You wish you had it going on like Tiny and Toya.”

  “I’m good, my family’s good, mmm-hmm,” I say in my Tiny voice.

  Everybody laughs, including Dreya.

  “This is hot, especially for you, Sunday, since you’ll be in college next fall and can’t really do a lot of promo work. They’re gonna show reruns of the show all summer, so by the time your album comes out, you’ll be a household name.”

  “We hope,” I say.

  “Well, it’ll happen as long as y’all don’t do nothing crazy on tour like get arrested,” Big D says.

  “So that means I probably shouldn’t let my boys roll with us on tour, right?” Truth asks.

  “Naw! Your boys have got to roll. Just make sure them cats ain’t riding dirty,” Big D replies.

  Dreya says, “I don’t like those reality shows. It’s like they try to paint a picture of a person that’s not for real. Like I can’t believe NeNe on Real Housewives is really that full of drama.”

  “They can only put it on TV if you do it,” I say. “So don’t act like your usual hating self on the road, and you should be cool.”

  “Shut up, Sunday.”

  “Speaking of painting pictures, I think y’all need to capitalize off that love triangle stuff that the blogs started,” Big D says.

  “What do you mean?” Dreya asks.

  “I mean y’all know what’s up, so it won’t hurt nobody if y’all play that up a bit. Let them think something is really going on.”

  Dreya holds up one hand. “I don’t even think so. I don’t want anybody thinking that my man would want her. That’s not even believable anyway.”

  “I think it would be funny,” Truth says. “It would definitely have people talking.”

  “You would want us to do it,” Dreya hisses at Truth. “So everybody could think you’re some kind of player or something. I don’t think so.”

  “Is anybody gonna ask me what I think?” Sam asks, appearing upstairs from his music lab.

  “Why somebody gotta ask you?” Dreya asks. “This doesn’t have anything to do with you. You aren’t Sunday’s boyfriend! As far as I’m concerned, you don’t even really have to go on this tour. One less person on the payroll.”

  “Sunday, you ain’t got nothing to say?” Sam asks.

  I throw up a hand. “Wait a minute. Y’all don’t even need to argue about that, because I’m not doing it. I’m not down with deception. I believe reality should be exactly that—real.”

  Big D shrugs. “Give it some thought. Y’all got months before it even goes down.”

  Seriously, Big D? Did you not hear anything we just said?

  I don’t need to give it any more thought. There is no way anyone would believe I wanted to hook up with Truth. They’d be calling our little show all kinds of fake.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Big D says. “Sunday, tell your mother that Epsilon Records hired a chaperone. It’s Mystique’s mother—the fashion designer, Ms. Layla. She does all of Mystique’s tour outfits, and this could help her launch her fashion line.”

  I’m speechless. No, really. I’m utterly speechless.

  “I hope she doesn’t think I’m wearing any of that tacky stuff,” Dreya says. “You’ll never catch me in a sequined anything.”

  “What about you, Sunday?” Big D asks.

  “I am not an enemy to sequins, but I would not consider myself their friend.”

  Truth bursts into laughter. “Don’t even look at me.”

  “Well, somebody is going to be wearing Ms. Layla’s costumes. We’ll figure all that out later.”

  This tour / reality show sounds like it’s going to be a fiasco. Love triangles, sequins, and hateration galore. I’m so excited!

  “My girl Bethany’s going, right?” Dreya asks.

  Her girl? Bethany’s moved up in status from her personal slave to her girl? That’s too funny.

  “I guess she can come,” Big D says, “but are you sure she’s your girl? I remember not too long ago, y’all was about to bug right here in the studio.”

  “That makes for good reality TV,” Truth replies. “If they start fighting we can just throw some baby oil on them, and they’ll look like video vixens in a rap video.”

  I shake my head, while Sam cracks up laughing. And of course Big D is standing up here pondering the possibilities.

  “Bethany and I will not be fighting. I know she’s got my back,” Dreya says.

  Okay, now I’m cracking up, too. I guess they’re besties now because they have a common enemy—me.

  But it’s only a matter of time before Dreya finds out about who’s really her enemy, and who’s doin’ her boyfriend.

  30

  My mom, Aunt Charlie, Manny, and I are in the living room watching one of Aunt Charlie’s favorite movies, Bad Boys. Actually, any movie with Will Smith is a favorite of Aunt Charlie’s. She calls him her tall, creamy drink of hot cocoa. Yeah, she’s corny as what.

  “Charlie, next time I’m picking the movie,” my mother says. “I think I probably know this movie by heart.”

  “No, ma’am. You’ll have us in here watching The Sound of Music or some mess. No, thank you.”

  “There is nothing wrong with a musical. Julie Andrews gives a wonderful performance.”

  Aunt Charlie and I look at each other and then both give my mother the hand.

  “Forget y’all.”

  As we watch a car chase with Will Smith and Martin Lawrence, we hear a loud knock on our window. It sounds like someone threw a rock at it or
something.

  “What the heck was that?” Aunt Charlie asks.

  “I don’t know!”

  Then we hear a loud, ghetto voice screaming from our front porch. “Shawn! Send him out here! Tell Carlos to bring his deadbeat self up outta your house.”

  Aunt Charlie hollers, “He ain’t here, LaKeisha! You betta get up off this property before I put a cap in your behind.”

  “You don’t have a gun,” I whisper to Aunt Charlie.

  “Shut up! She doesn’t know that!” Aunt Charlie hisses.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake,” my mother says. “I’m going over there.”

  “Shawn! Last time, they shot Carlos. Don’t go over there.”

  “That girl is not going to shoot me.”

  My mother goes over to the front window. “LaKeisha, Carlos isn’t here. I don’t know where he is.”

  “Don’t try to play me, Shawn! I know you riding hard for him. You’re the one who gave him that twenty-five thousand dollars, so why wouldn’t you help him?”

  My mother frowns. “How do you know I gave him money?”

  “Shawn, please,” LaKeisha says with a cackling laugh. “You know Carlos still deals with me, honey. I don’t care how much money you give him or if you let him live with you, he still belongs to me and his daughter.”

  My mother shakes her head. “Okay, whatever. I’m not about to have a stupid argument with you through my door.”

  “Why don’t you be a woman then and come outside?”

  “For what? So we can fight or one of your brothers can shoot me? I already told you Carlos is not here. If you come back, I’m calling the police on you.”

  “When you talk to Carlos, tell him that me and my brother are looking for him. They got some unfinished business.”

  “Whatever.”

  My mother comes back over to the couch and sits down with a blank expression on her face. “If they find him, I think they’re going to try to shoot him again.”

  “I think you should get a restraining order on LaKeisha,” Aunt Charlie says. “She’s workin’ my nerves.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  I rub my mother’s back, to try to make that stressed-out expression disappear. “Mom, it’s gonna be cool. At least we know that they don’t have Carlos. I’m sure he’s alive and hiding out somewhere.”

  “You’re right, Sunday. I just have to keep praying for his safety,” my mother says.

  “When I blow up, I’m gonna move y’all into a gated community so hood trash like LaKeisha can’t walk up to our house,” I say.

  “That sounds good, baby.”

  “When you and Dreya blow up, you mean,” Aunt Charlie says. “It ain’t all about you, not this time, Sunday.”

  “What are you even talking about, Aunt Charlie? You and your daughter be on some other stuff.”

  “I just don’t understand why you had to copy Dreya with the record deal. She just couldn’t have her own shine, could she?”

  “Her own shine? Are you kidding me?” I ask.

  “You always get praised for being smart, getting in college, and all that. And as soon as Dreya gets something on her own, here you come trying to steal that, too.”

  I stand to my feet, totally furious. “I’m sick of y’all trying to act like I stole something from Dreya. I’m the one who wrote the hook that got her the record deal! I wrote all the songs on her record! Why shouldn’t I have a shot, too?”

  “Listen to you. You’re so selfish, Sunday.”

  “Mom! Are you gonna let her just talk to me like that?”

  “Charlie, stop. Let the girls fight it out amongst themselves. We shouldn’t even be getting in this. I’m going to bed.”

  “But the movie isn’t even over yet,” Aunt Charlie says.

  My mother just gets up and walks to her bedroom and closes the door.

  Aunt Charlie glares at me. “I’m not gonna let you steal this from Dreya.”

  “Is that a threat, Aunt Charlie?”

  “No, honey. It’s a promise.”

  31

  “Can you see me / can you see me? / Tell me what you want me to do / ’cause I wanna see me with you.”

  I sing the hook to the first song I’ve written for my album. Big D is bobbing his head and Sam bites the inside of his cheek. This is his thinking pose.

  “It’s all about a girl who feels invisible to this guy she really likes,” I explain.

  “I like it,” Big D says. “It’s so different from what you write for Drama, and it has a different sound from the song you wrote for Mystique. You’re a chameleon, girl.”

  “Each voice is different, I guess. I write for the voices.”

  “Well, you’re doing your thing, girl.”

  “What will the verses sound like?” Sam asks.

  “I’ve only written the first one. It goes like this: When I first saw you / you were so incredible to me. / All I could do was watch you / a guy like you would never talk to me. / Feels like I’m hiding in plain sight. / Wish you’d just open up your eyes / Can you see me, can you see me? / Tell me what you want me to do / ’cause I wanna see me with you.”

  Now Sam is rocking back and forth. “That’s hot, Sunday!! This has a rock-soul feel and needs some funky drums. Get ready to have a number-one hit.”

  “You think? I thought it was kind of different. What if people don’t get it?”

  “People get hot music,” Big D says. “It’s universal.”

  “Big D, can I ask you something?” I ask.

  “Of course.”

  “Do you feel like I’m trying to steal Dreya’s shine?”

  Big D laughs. “You can’t steal someone’s shine. You either have it or you don’t.”

  “I know! That’s what I keep telling myself, but I think my aunt and cousin are getting to me.”

  “You don’t just shine, baby girl, you glow!” Big D says. “And I promise, you’re gonna be in this business much longer than your cousin.”

  I feel myself blushing. “Thanks, Big D.”

  “When I heard you singing over Drama’s vocals and bringing life to those songs, I knew you had something special.”

  “So why did you present Dreya to Epsilon Records instead of me?” I ask.

  “Because it takes someone like Mystique to believe in a talent as unique as yours. They would’ve never listened to me. Drama, she’s typical. She’s what they expect from R & B chicks. You are in a class by yourself.”

  “You deserve this, Sunday,” Sam says. “Dreya is just tripping.”

  “Whew…all this praise is making me thirsty!” I say with a chuckle. “I’m going upstairs for water—anybody want something?”

  “Nah, I’m good,” Sam says.

  “I’ll take a bottle of water.”

  I skip up the stairs feeling really good about myself. Big D said that I’m in a class by myself! Sweet!

  Truth is standing in the kitchen, making a sandwich, looking pretty darn regular. Not like you would think a rapper on the brink of blowing up would look.

  “What are you ’bout to grub on?” I ask.

  Truth smiles. “A Dagwood, girl. You don’t know nothin’ ’bout that.”

  “It looks like a big ole meat sandwich! You must be hungry.”

  “I could eat.”

  “Well, don’t let me get in the way. I only need water.”

  “You know, I was thinking about our reality show,” Truth says.

  “You got some ideas?”

  “Yeah. I think the fans would really like to see us hook up.”

  I burst into laughter. “Are you for real? What fans? They don’t even know who we are yet!”

  “But they will. And you’re so much sweeter than Drama. I think they’d all be team Sunday.”

  “Yeah, everybody except Sam.”

  Here Truth goes again, stepping into my personal space. “You sure you couldn’t imagine yourself kissing me?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Well, I sure could imagine mys
elf kissing you.”

  I back way up. “Truth, this is not the business.”

  Truth steps all the way up, cornering me and leaving me no place to escape. He takes my face in both of his hands and gives me a deep, knee-buckling kiss.

  “You’ll change your mind about wanting to kiss me.”

  He strokes my face before leaving the kitchen with his sandwich and beverage. I touch my lips that still tingle from Truth’s kiss. I can’t tell if he’s serious or if he’s just playing games with me. I know one thing—Dreya wouldn’t think any of this is funny.

  I look up, and Sam is standing at the top of the steps. How long has he been there? How much did he see?

  “Big D wants you,” Sam says.

  Before I can ask why, Big D yells up the stairs, “Sunday! Come back down here! Mystique is on the phone. She wants to talk to you!”

  Mystique calling for me? Get the heck outta here. That’s hot!

  For the moment, I forget about what Sam did or didn’t see and run back down the stairs holding two bottles of water in my hand. I’ll do damage control later.

  “Here she is,” Big D says. “She’s on speakerphone, Sunday. Go ahead and say what’s up.”

  I try to catch my breath. “H-hey, Mystique!”

  “You sound like you just did a hundred-yard dash,” she says in her calm and warm-sounding tone.

  “I pretty much did! How are you doing?” I ask.

  “I’m great! I just recorded your song, and it sounds wonderful. You are so talented and beautiful, Sunday. You and Sam.”

  “I don’t think I’ve even been called beautiful before,” Sam says. “Thank you, Mystique.”

  “You are very welcome!”

  “I’m glad you like the song!” I say. “I know you’re gonna make it a number-one hit.”

  “This song makes me sound good!” Mystique says. “I appreciate y’all. And good luck on recording your album. I can’t wait to hear it.”

  “Thank you sooo much for this opportunity,” I gush. “You can’t imagine how much this means.”