On the Flip Side

by Nikki Carter

  Big D opens his mouth to speak and I hold up my hand. “No, please don’t say anything else about this. I have to deal with this in my way. No matter what, Sam is supposed to be my boyfriend. He knows that I’m in the public eye and that he can’t do stuff to embarrass me. Whether I forgive him or not for being stupid has nothing to do with the fact that I will have to deal with the questions.”

  “Yeah, you’re right, baby girl. I can’t argue with you or defend Sam on that one.”

  Dilly says, “It’s gonna be straight, Sunday.”

  “I need to get out of here. I’ve got a study session with my roommate. We’ve got a paper to write in our composition class for Thursday.”

  “Dang, Sunday,” Dilly says. “You are going to wear yourself out.”

  “Nope. Not gonna. I’m getting a Frappuccino on the way back to the dorm.”

  “When are you inviting me to the campus to meet all of your hot friends?” Dilly asks.

  “Ha! When you grow up! And stop acting like you don’t have a girlfriend. Bethany would flip out if she heard you say that.”

  “Bethany and I are on a break. She’s too much for me.”

  My eyes widen, and for a second I forget all about my drama. “What do you mean? What’s up with y’all?”

  “She’s talking crazy! She told me she loves me and she wants me to move in with her. I’m like whoa! Hold up! I ain’t even out of high school yet. I don’t want to wife anyone.”

  “Yeah, that’s tripped out. You want me to talk to her?” I ask. I’m not sure what I would say, but clearly she needs a reality check.

  “Naw, I handled it,” Dilly says. “I told her I wasn’t ready for all that. I still have to go to prom! Plus, my sister would freak out if I tried to move in with Bethany.”

  “All right then.” I jump up from the couch. “I’ll holla at y’all later. Big D, do you need me in the studio to help record Bethany’s album?”

  He shakes his head. “No, ma. Focus on your studies. Mystique and I can handle the recording. You’ve done the hard part by writing the songs. Plus, you’ll have a few promo events the next couple of weekends. Your single starts on the radio on Wednesday, and the video will be released in two weeks.”

  “When do I get to see the final cut of it?”

  “Probably next Friday. I’ll call you.”

  I give Big D and Dilly our customary hugs. “Okay then, get at me!”

  Dilly says, “I’m gonna walk you out.”

  As we go upstairs, Dilly seems extra serious about something. Maybe he’s got something more to get off his chest about Bethany.

  I use the keyless entry to unlock my door, but Dilly rushes to open it for me. He’s got great manners. Someone raised him right. I hate to think that it was his ghetto sister, Keisha, but maybe she did do something right.

  “What’s up?” I ask as I step in the car.

  He shrugs, as he leans on my open car door. “Nothing. It just feels so different without you and Sam at the studio every day. I think Big D feels like y’all leaving him behind or something. He’s been in trip-out mode lately.”

  “For real?”

  “Yeah, and he and Shelly been having problems too.”

  Shelly is Big D’s ex-video-vixen girlfriend. Shelly’s been holding it down for Big D for years. She cooks, cleans, and is always on his arm at events. Always. But Big D has chicks on the side. I always wondered if she knew about them and just looked the other way or if she didn’t know.

  “Big D needs to do right by Shelly! She’s a real ride-or-die-type chick, and she’s incredibly fly. I wish I had her body.”

  Dilly laughs out loud. “You could have her body. Some of it’s store bought, I think!”

  We crack up laughing on this one. Shelly will never admit it, but her badonkadonk does not look like it grew naturally. That teeny, tiny waist she has does not seem like it was designed to hold up all that booty.

  “She wants Big D to marry her,” Dilly says. “But he’s not sure.”

  “He better do the right thing!”

  “Well, I think I’m breaking up with Bethany. I didn’t want to say it in front of D, because he is against it. He wants us to be a media sweetheart couple, but she’s too psycho.”

  “What do you mean, psycho?”

  Even though Bethany and I haven’t been close lately, we were best friends from elementary all the way through our senior year of high school. We’d probably still be friends if she hadn’t hooked up with my ex-boyfriend Romell. I wasn’t even feeling him anymore, but it was the principle of the matter. Too many boys in the world to go after your best friend’s ex! But through all that, she’s never done anything that I could call psycho.

  “Well, she saw me at the club with a bunch of kids from school, and she got all amped up because I hadn’t invited her. So, she took a bunch of my clothes that I had left in her car, and poured bleach all over them.”

  “Okay, yeah. That’s pretty psycho.”

  “That’s not all. She wrote me a letter saying that she doesn’t think she can live without me, and that she might hurt herself if I leave her.”

  “For real? Wow, that’s tripped out. You want me to talk to her?”

  “No. I think I can handle it.”

  “You make sure you let me know if you want me to talk to her.”

  “You have enough on your plate, Sunday. I was just venting for a second. You just make sure you clear your schedule when it’s time for my prom, ’cause I want you to be my date.”

  I laugh out loud. “That’s how you ask a girl out?”

  “That’s how I ask you out. You owe me.”

  I guess he’s right. Dilly was the pinch-hitter prom date for me, when Sam decided to act a fool. I can definitely do him the same favor.

  “You just let me know what color dress to wear.”

  “That money-green dress you rocked to your prom will do just fine.”

  “Uh, no. A pop star never wears the same dress twice.”

  Dilly gives me a fist bump. “That you are, Sunday. I’m just glad I knew you before your head blew up.”

  I smile at Dilly as I close my car door and pull out of Big D’s driveway. I am a pop star, no matter how I slice it. And I’ve got all the pop-star craziness that comes along with it.

  I try to put Sam and his stupidity out of my mind. Time to focus on my alter ego, Sunday Tolliver, freshman at Spelman. My college life, so far, is pretty drama free, so that’s where I’m about to hang out for a while.

  A pop star needs a break every now and then.

  7

  Gia is sitting on her bed with a major frown on her face. She just got off the phone with the financial aid office, and although I tried not to dip, I overheard her asking them when her student loan refund check would be in. I guess they didn’t tell her what she needed to hear.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask.

  Gia smiles. “Yes, I’m cool. I’ve got a full scholarship, so as long as my classes, books, and room and board are paid for, I’m straight. I just have to keep getting good grades.”

  “But if you need anything, please let me know.”

  She shakes her head. “Nope. Not gonna do it. I’ve got a rich uncle back home. I will hit him up before I saddle you with my lack of finances.”

  “Don’t sisters take care of each other?” I ask.

  “Yes, and I promise I will let you know if I have an emergency. As of right now, as long as they keep making ramen noodles and Kool-Aid, I’m straight.”

  “Okay. I may have a couple of gigs for you and Ricky, though. I have to do a few shows over the next couple of weekends to promote my single. Plus it’s almost time for the American Music Award nominations, so I need to stay in the public eye.”

  “What kind of gig?”

  “Backup dancing. Y’all made it hot at the Chi Kappa party.”

  Gia nods. “And this is a paying gig?”

  “Yes, of course!”

  “That’s what’s up! And, I love the AMA
s. Are you performing on the show?”

  I shrug. “Not sure yet. But if I do, do you want to be a dancer?”

  Gia jumps up from her bed, crashes onto mine, and hugs me tightly. “Pinch me! I think I’m dreaming! That would be absolutely, ridiculously incredible.”

  “You are not dreaming! I need you, girl, because I can’t dance.”

  “I can help you with that. My cousin Hope was totally hopeless until I helped her.”

  I crack up. “Hope was hopeless!”

  “Yes, she was, and stop laughing, because she’s on her way over here! I don’t want you to burst into laughter when you meet her!”

  “Okay, I’ll try to pull myself together.”

  Gia gives me a suspicious look. “You still look like you want to giggle. Think of something serious. What about Meagan and Piper? Think about them. They are seriously getting on my nerves.”

  “They are? I haven’t really talked to either of them in the last few days. Are they arguing or something?”

  Gia shakes her head. “No, they are both trying to holler at my best friend Kevin.”

  “The one from Morehouse?”

  “Yes. And he’s not feeling either one of them. Kevin is not trying to have a girlfriend yet. Meagan scared him, and Piper is not really his type.”

  “Meagan scared him?” This is funny! Now I’m laughing again, and Gia was trying to make me stop.

  “Yes, she was too aggressive. She started telling him how he needed to pledge Chi Kappa, and all about her plans to marry a Morehouse man.”

  “No, she didn’t! That girl is a trip. Poor Kevin. But what’s wrong with Piper? Why didn’t he like her?”

  “Well ... Kevin is kind of old school, and she has too many tattoos. When he told me about her, all he said was, ‘The blood of Jesus.’”

  Now I’m howling with laughter. “Gia, you are making this worse! But at least I’m not laughing about your cousin anymore.”

  There’s a knock on the door. That must be Hope.

  “Pull yourself together!” Gia fusses.

  Gia gets up to open the door, and her cousin Hope walks in. She and Gia look a lot alike. They have the same creamy tan skin, big eyes, and thick eyebrows. Hope is all about the pin-straight hair, though. She’s Gia’s hair opposite. And her clothing style is Juicy Couture from head to toe. I guess their faces are where the similarities end.

  “Hopey Hope! What’s good?” Gia asks as she hugs her cousin.

  Hope shakes her head. “Gia, you are so not fixable!”

  Gia grins at me. “She hates my nickname for her. It’s too crunktastical for her.”

  Hope gives Gia a tight-lipped glare and shakes my hand. “Hi, Sunday. I’m Hope—not Hopey Hope—and I am a huge fan. It’s such an honor to meet you.”

  “Same here! Gia can’t stop talking about her favorite cousin.”

  This puts a huge smile on Hope’s face. “That’s sweet! She’s lucky to have you as a roommate. My roommate is awful.”

  Hope sits down on Gia’s beanbag chair. The chair that I hope to convince her to throw away at some point. It’s lime green and actually pretty comfy, but it is not cute.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Gia asks.

  “She is totally boy crazy. She’s hooked up with three different guys already. I mean we haven’t even been in school a month yet.”

  “Ewww!” Gia says. “She’s probably a walking bacteria.”

  “I know, right! I saw a prescription on her bed for penicillin.”

  I bite my lip. “Well, she could’ve had any kind of infection. Could’ve been a tooth or something.”

  “True. I just hate having to hear her.”

  “Oh, now that’s just nasty,” I say. “That’s pretty disgusting.”

  “Exactly. You should come over here when she starts tripping,” Gia says.

  “No can do. Freshmen have a one a.m. curfew until the second semester. So I just turn my iPod up!”

  Gia turns her lips up into a “something in here stinks” pose. “Glad that ain’t me.”

  “Right,” I add. “I’ve got the perfect roomie!”

  Gia hugs me again. “So do I.”

  Hope rolls her eyes. “I hate you both. But what is this I hear about Kevin getting major play?”

  “Is that what he told you?” Gia asks. “He is funny. He’s scared of both girls so I don’t know what he’s bragging about.”

  I’m enjoying this banter back and forth between Gia and Hope. They have the kind of relationship that I wish Dreya and I had. We could be like this. Laughing and sharing news. I bet Hope isn’t gleeful when Gia has boyfriend issues.

  “Can I ask y’all a question?” I ask.

  “Yep,” Gia says.

  Hope says, “Sure.”

  “How do y’all get along so well? My cousin and I ... well, we don’t get along at all. I’ve always wanted us to be friends.”

  Hope and Gia break out into a flurry of giggles. And Hope finally answers, “We haven’t always been friends. I couldn’t stand Gia our freshman year of high school.”

  “She was mad that I was a better Hi-Stepper than she was.”

  Hope says, “She was mad that I had better hair.” She punctuates this with a hair flip.

  “I had not embraced my fro yet,” Gia explains. “But now, I like mine better than yours.”

  “To each her own,” Hope says.

  Gia says, “At some point, you and Dreya will probably be really cool. Once she stops hating on your shine.”

  “You watched the reality show?” I ask.

  Hope replies, “We watched every episode. She needs to get over herself.”

  This is true. Dreya does need to get over herself. I just hope her new rap career is what puts her on the map. I would hate to see her crash and burn doing this.

  “She’s going to put out a rap album,” I say.

  Gia frowns. “Not a fan of rap. At all.”

  “Me either,” Hope says. “But I will listen to some of it.”

  My phone buzzes on the bed, and I pick it up. It’s a text from Sam. Miss u. I frown and throw it down. Feeling real ambivalent toward him right now. Haven’t talked to him since I was over Big D’s.

  I do not want to break up with him! Not at all. I really care about him, maybe I even love him. I’m not sure about that. But he keeps making me cry. I don’t like crying at all. Aren’t you supposed to smile uncontrollably when you’re in love?

  “Who is that?” Gia asks. “Because you’ve got a stanky look on your face all of a sudden.”

  “Nobody.”

  “Yikes. It must be Sam. You should forgive him, Sunday. What happened to him could’ve happened to any guy.”

  “Would you forgive Ricky if he did the same thing?”

  Gia pauses for an extended moment. “I. Don’t. Know.”

  “Exactly!”

  “Clue me in,” Hope says.

  “My boyfriend, maybe soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend went to a club and he says someone slipped something in his drink.”

  “Oh my!” Hope says. “Did anything happen to him?”

  “Yeah, another girl’s tongue ended up down his throat.”

  “Ouchie! I don’t know what I would do in that scenario either,” Hope says. “I don’t have a boyfriend right now, but still. I’d probably be really angry.”

  “I’m beyond angry. But he keeps apologizing.”

  Luckily the bloggers didn’t get a hold of the picture. That would’ve made everything worse. But it’s been a few days and the story hasn’t surfaced yet. Maybe Zac threatened some people. He’s good at that. His threats got Truth’s record deal with Epsilon Records deep-sixed when Truth put his hands on Dreya. I thought it was kind of gangsta of Zac to do that, but if he did the same thing for Sam, then I actually appreciate it.

  My phone buzzes again. I ignore it, because I know it’s Sam.

  Gia asks, “Are you going to check that?”

  When I shake my head, she jumps up and snatches my phone off the
bed before I can stop her.

  “He says he’s downstairs,” she says after reading my text.

  “What?”

  I grab the phone so I can see for myself. When I see that Gia wasn’t playing, I text him back. Why and how are u here?

  I tap my foot on the floor as I wait for his reply. I don’t even know if I want to see him right now. I want to hug him, but I want to kick him at the same time. See, I said I was ambivalent!

  He texts back. Zac bought me a ticket. I fly back on Friday. Will only miss one class.

  I text: Oh.

  R u comin’ down? Or am I coming up?

  I tap my foot again, and then walk over to the wall mirror to check myself out. I’m borderline raggedy in my sweatpants and baby tee. Plus my hair is everywhere. I could really use a scrunchy right about now.

  “You should probably comb your hair if your boyfriend is here,” Hope says.

  Gia gives her the eye and Hope says, “What? I’m just saying.”

  I grab a ponytail holder from my dresser and finger comb my thick hair into a high ponytail. If he doesn’t like this, then oh well. That’s what you get when you visit your angry girlfriend unannounced.

  “Do you need me to go downstairs with you?” Gia asks. “Because I will, you know, especially if you think you might need to escape.”

  “No, I’m good. I do need to talk to him. I wasn’t really ready yet, but since he’s here, I might as well.”

  I leave our room, and take the stairs instead of the slow elevator. We’re only on the second floor, and waiting for the elevator takes an eternity.

  Before he sees me, I spy Sam standing in our lounge next to the door. Dang! Why does he have to look good? I needed to see him looking all scrubbed out, so that I wouldn’t want to hug him on sight.

  He’s got a fresh haircut—his signature low fade, and some new prescription glasses. Are those Prada frames? He must be doing all right up in the NYC. His clothes are on point too. Solid dark red button-down, half tucked, half out, and fitted jeans—not a sag in sight. I see every chick in sight staring him down, probably wondering who he’s here to see. He’s not giving them any play. I don’t even see him make eye contact with anyone.

  He better not.

  Suddenly, I feel bad that I look a hot booty mess. I spin on one heel to go back into the staircase. I can’t let him see me like this!