by Nikki Carter
“Is he there?” she asks.
Oh, duh. This is the reason I called in the first place.
“No, Sam thought he was still with us.”
“I’ll tell Dilly to call you if I see him,” Sam says.
“Okay. Bye.”
I disconnect the phone and turn to Bethany. “Looks like you’re just going to have to wait until Dilly wants to be found.”
Bethany’s tears start up again. “I can’t go out with him thinking . . . what he thinks about me.”
It’s funny how we’re speaking in code around the cameras now. Nobody, no matter how much money you’re paying them, wants all of their business on a TV show for the world to see.
“So don’t go out with us, then. Sit in your hotel room, crying your eyes out, while Sunday and I enjoy some reggae music and good food.”
Bethany rolls her eyes at Mystique. “I don’t see how you can be so mean, Mystique. I’m going to find Dilly.”
She storms out of the villa and Mystique shrugs. “Like I said, teen drama. That’s why I like you, Sunday. You’re so much more mature than your cronies.”
I don’t know if I’m so much more mature than everybody else, I just don’t like people in my business. And the BET cameras are putting the entire country in Dilly and Bethany’s mix as soon as this thing airs. I thought this show was gonna be about my video shoot, but there’s a lot more happening than that.
Zac comes out of the bedroom and looks Mystique up and down, from head to toe and back up to her head. “We should’ve brought your bodyguard, Mystique. I don’t know how I feel about you going to the club unprotected, and dressed like that.”
“Are you kidding me, Zac? They don’t even know who I am in this country. I only get recognized in the resort, and that’s because there’s more Americans here than anywhere on the island.”
“Just because the people at the cave didn’t know you, that doesn’t mean that someone else won’t. Why don’t y’all just hang with us?”
Mystique frowns. “But we were having a ladies’ night out.”
“I know, but I would feel more comfortable if you went with us.”
My eyes dart back and forth between Mystique and Zac. This is clearly a battle of wills. Mystique lifts an eyebrow and smirks.
“All right. We’ll. Go. With. You.”
Uh-oh. Although we’re going with the guys now, I have an idea who actually won this battle. I don’t think it’s over, but it won’t be played out on TV either.
I’m so glad to hear the knock on the villa door, because the moment of tension between Mystique and Zac is too much for me. It’s like watching your parents fight. Like what kid wants to see their parents argue?
But when Zac opens the door to Dreya and Truth, my big sigh lets everyone know what I’m thinking. Wish I could just have a fun evening!
Dreya is wearing heavy makeup, eye shadow, mascara, and eyeliner, but I can still tell that her eyes are puffy, swollen, and red. She’s been crying her eyes out, probably all day. Her entire face is swollen, really, probably also the effect of her tears.
I guess she figured out the password on Truth’s phone.
But Truth is looking real relaxed like there’s nothing wrong. I know my cousin. Something is wrong. Maybe she hasn’t mentioned it to him yet.
“Where are we going?” Dreya asks.
“A reggae club in The Gap,” Zac says. “Soon as Sam gets here, we’re out.”
“Isn’t Big D coming?” I ask.
Zac shakes his head. “Nah. He’s staying here with his lady. I invited him, but he declined my invitation.”
Hmmm . . . what’s that about? He declined my invitation. Zac sounds like he might be offended by Big D turning him down. But for real, if I was Big D, I wouldn’t be trying to grin and cheese all up in Zac’s face pretending to be friends. Zac is taking Big D’s main producer, if Sam says yes, and that’s not really a friend move.
Finally Sam shows up. He looks good in standard Sam apparel—black tee, jeans, black sneakers. Chain on his neck, cap on his head. Typical, low-key Sam. Hotness.
“What took you so long?” I ask.
“I like to keep the ladies waiting,” Sam says.
After everyone cracks up laughing, Sam says, “Wow. But seriously, I went to talk to Big D.”
“And?” Zac asks.
“It’s all good,” Sam replies. “We’ll talk business tomorrow. But tonight I’m ready to chill.”
Zac slightly narrows his eyes as if he doesn’t like Sam’s response. I don’t think Zac is used to being kept waiting by anyone. Especially a new producer to whom he’s just offered the deal of a lifetime. But I appreciate Sam and his swagger. A dude with swagger never lets the next man see him sweat.
“Well, if we’re all here, let’s go! I’m hungry for some jerk chicken,” Mystique says. She’s regained her cool diva-like composure, but I’m sure that Zac is gonna get it later when the cameras are no longer rolling.
We all ride in a limo van like the one that brought us to the resort from the airport. Dreya is uncharacteristically silent, and the smile she has plastered on her face is fake as all get-out. The first opportunity I get, I’m pulling her to the side to get the scoop.
When the limo driver pulls off, Mystique says, “It’s a good thing Bethany and Dilly didn’t go with us, since Truth and Drama decided to roll. That would’ve been awkward.”
Now see, this is Mystique trying to start something in front of the camera. I stare at Dreya, trying to send her mental signals. . . . Don’t take the bait!
“Why would that have been awkward?” Dreya asks.
Clearly, my cousin missed the signal. We’ve got to work on our telepathy. When we were little, we used to be like the wonder-twin cousins or something.
Mystique says, “You know, with what happened on the tour and all.”
“Oh!” Dreya says with a phony chuckle. “You mean the fact that Bethany is a slut and was hooking up with my man?”
Oh no . . . the carefully placed façade is cracking. Dreya’s about to let loose. And Mystique is poking the bear.
“Yeah, but I guess y’all hashed that all out because you and Truth are still together. Like it couldn’t be me. If Zac did that . . .”
Zac says, “Why you gotta put me in that discussion? This is about Truth and Drama.”
“I’m just saying,” Mystique says.
I’m not liking this side of Mystique. This catty, disliking-Dreya side of Mystique. I know that Dreya has said some twisted stuff about Mystique, but I feel caught in the middle of that. I’d feel like dirt choosing Mystique over my cousin, but if they keep this up, it’s going to come down to a choice.
“Maybe Dreya was just able to forgive him. There’s nothing wrong with forgiving someone,” I say.
Truth gives me a fist bump across the seat with the hand that’s not wrapped around Dreya and holding her close. Dreya looks like a ticking time bomb.
“I forgive, but I don’t forget, and I’m not stupid,” Dreya says.
Are we there yet? Because all of a sudden it’s starting to feel cramped in this ginormous limo.
“No one said you were stupid, baby,” Truth says. He plants a kiss on her cheek.
Dreya untangles herself from Truth’s arm and sits straight up. “Yeah, you think I’m stupid. You and Bethany think I’m stupid.”
Big sigh. Here we go.
“Wh-what do you mean, babe? I’m not fooling with no Bethany.”
Dreya leans right in Truth’s face. Nose to nose. “That’s only because she told your raggedy, busted-up self, that she didn’t want you.”
Truth looks surprised and furious as he wipes Dreya’s spittle off the bridge of his nose. “I said I don’t know what you mean.”
Dreya laughs out loud. “I’m not stupid, babe, but you are. If you’re gonna be sending reckless texts to someone else’s girlfriend, don’t you think you should put a better password on your phone than your birthday, you big dummy!”
“I told you to stop going through my phone,” Truth says.
“I told you to stop cheating on me, but clearly neither of us has been listening very well,” Dreya replies.
“Hey, why don’t y’all chill?” Zac says. “We’re all trying to have a good time here.”
“You ain’t my daddy,” Dreya says. “I know everybody’s treating you like you’re some kind of don or something. You need to fall back and mind your business.”
“Don’t you talk to my man like that,” Mystique says.
Dreya just laughs in her face. “You do not want it with me.”
Truth says, “Drama, why don’t we just talk this out when we get to the club. Ain’t no need to bring Mystique and Zac into this. They don’t have anything to do with this.”
Sam and I are silent. I’m not saying anything because I’ll be darned if I take a side this time. Plus, I’m waiting to see if Truth thinks he’s gonna manhandle my cousin. Because it’s not going down like that tonight.
“You don’t tell me what to do either, Truth. You need to start explaining, right now, why you were sending Bethany text messages.”
Truth chuckles. “All right, since you want to try and put me on blast in front of everybody, Bethany still wants me. She hasn’t stopped wanting me since day one. And if you keep tripping, I’m gonna give her what she wants.”
“Obviously she DON’T want you because she sent you about five texts that said, ‘NO THANKS, I’m with Dilly.’ ”
“She’s just playing hard to get,” Truth says.
Sam shakes his head. “Dude, you can’t be serious.”
“All these chicks want me—Sunday too if you want to get down to it,” Truth says.
Before I can reply, Dreya says, “Nobody wants you. Least of all me. Sunday, can I stay in your room for the rest of the weekend?”
“Of course.”
Then, Truth just loses it! In a lightning-fast move he wraps his hand around Dreya’s throat and snatches her head back against the seat.
“Truth, get off of her!” I yell. “Stop the camera! Stop filming THIS!”
Sam knocks the camera out of the cameraman’s hand before he can acquiesce. When he reaches down to pick it up, Zac shakes his head, no. The cameraman sits back in his seat. I guess he knows better than to cross Zillionaire.
Slowly, Truth removes his hand from Dreya’s neck and she coughs violently. As Truth leans back and relaxes, as if he’s proved something, Zac jumps across the seat and puts Truth in a headlock. Truth struggles to free himself with no success.
Zac says, “I guess somebody told you it was okay to beat on women. Maybe it was your daddy, I don’t know. But you are NOT about to manhandle this girl in my presence. You are disrespecting every woman in this car, and NOBODY disrespects my girl. So, I’ma let you take a nap right now. You fixing to go to sleep, and when you wake up you’re gonna be in a cab taking your fake thug self to the airport. If you’re still here tomorrow, you might need a wheelchair to get back to the States.”
After a little more fruitless struggling, Truth loses consciousness. Zac then turns to the BET cameraman. “That better not show up on TV, or you’re gonna lose more than your job, son.”
Son? The cameraman has to be twice Zac’s age. He’s tripping on some old straight gangsta type stuff.
But, I am glad he handled Truth. I just don’t know what the aftermath of this will be for Dreya, Big D, or Truth’s record deal with Epsilon Records.
All this over Bethany? I never understand guys who would put everything on the line for a whole bunch of nothing! Truth’s gonna wake up in the morning feeling really, really dumb about all this. Really, really, dumb.
“Zac, baby, did you really have to do that?” Mystique asks.
“Yeah, I did,” he replies softly.
Dreya bursts into tears. No one moves to offer her any sympathy. It’s not that I feel good about Truth hurting her, it’s that she is always ruining something for me! This reality show, this trip, this music thing! I wish Dreya and all of her drama would just disappear out of my life.
And she can take her raggedy woman-beating boyfriend with her.
25
The fight with Truth in the limo has put a damper on everyone’s evening. No one is in a good mood, but we decided to still go to the reggae club anyway. One, because we’re hungry and two, if we all go back to the resort, more violence is sure to erupt. Truth needs time to clear out, and we need time away from him.
For some reason, witnessing the attack has caused Mystique to go sweet on Dreya. She’s been holding her hand since before we got out of the limo. Frankly, Dreya looks kind of uncomfortable with the overt showing of affection. Dreya’s not the affectionate type, at all, but she still doesn’t release Mystique’s hand until we get into the restaurant and sit down.
“Are you all right, Dreya?” I ask as we all look at the menus. “Do you want to call Aunt Charlie?”
“No. Don’t call her,” Dreya says. “She’s gonna trip that he’s even here in the first place.”
“Okay, but do you want me to call Big D to make sure he’s gone when we get back to the resort?”
Zac says, “No need. I already took care of that. You don’t have to worry about him anymore this weekend.”
“I-I could feel his hands pressing into my throat. I couldn’t breathe. Was he trying to kill me?”
Sam says, “No. He knows that no one would’ve let him get that off. He was just trying to scare you.”
“But those few seconds hurt so bad. Was I wrong to call him out about Bethany?” Dreya’s voice sounds so small and frightened. I’ve never seen her so shaken. But I guess seeing your life flash before your eyes, even if it is briefly, is pretty scary.
“I don’t think you were wrong to call him out about Bethany, but maybe you shouldn’t have done it in front of all of us. That was kind of rough,” I say.
Mystique says, “That doesn’t give him a reason to choke her, though.”
“Definitely not excusing him,” I say. “I’m just being honest.”
Dreya says, “Sunday is right. I wanted to embarrass him on camera. That’s why I did it, plus I was mad that he would play me like that—again. I mean seriously, is Bethany all that?”
“He’s just a dog,” Mystique says. “And dogs don’t deserve girls like us. They deserve hoodrat, busted-up chicks.”
“Not even a hoodrat deserves getting choked,” Sam says. “Although a hoodrat probably would’ve put in some work on him as soon as he took his hands away.”
A live band is playing in the tiny but lively club. I sway back and forth to the festive drumbeat. The dance floor is packed with locals and vacationers. I can tell the difference because the resort people look a bit out of place. Their dancing is a little off the beat—shoot, a lot of them look like this is their first time dancing.
Even with everything that has gone on tonight, now I feel like dancing. Maybe it’ll relieve some stress, and since the BET cameraman was so mad at Zac that he went back to the hotel, I don’t have to worry about my club dancing being on TV.
“Order me some jerk chicken,” I tell Mystique. “Come on, Sam, I want to dance.”
Sam’s eyebrows lift. “You want me to go out there?”
“Yes! It’ll be fun.”
“For who? You or the people who will be laughing at me when I attempt to dance?”
I give Sam a tiny smile. “You can save a girl’s life, but you can’t dance to an itty-bitty reggae song?”
“Aw, crap,” Sam says. “Come on. It sounds like you’re calling my manhood into question.”
Zac laughs out loud. “Dude, she IS. And she’s making you dance. You must be sprung.”
When Sam doesn’t reply, I say, “Well . . . are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Sprung?”
Sam laughs out loud. “I’ll answer that if and when I make it off this dance floor in one piece.”
“Good answer, bro!” Zac high-fives Sam as we walk away
from the table.
On the way to the dance floor, I turn and ask Sam, “What did Big D say about the job offer?”
“He seemed happy for me, but he just kept cracking his knuckles.”
“He does that when he’s mad.”
“I know. So, I asked him if he wanted me to turn the job down.” Sam maneuvers us through the tight maze of tables and onto the floor.
“You did? What did he say?” Now, I’m yelling because the music is so loud.
“He totally freaked me out and started crying!”
My mouth drops open. “Get outta here! Boo-hoo crying?”
“Naw. Tears just started coming down his face. It was weird, but he said not to turn the job down.”
“Big D is an emotional cat, for real,” I say. I remember when he gave me a similar speech about it being destiny that we met and all that. Big D is a big ol’ softie.
“I know, but I’m glad I talked to him about it, because I’m taking the offer.”
The thought of Sam all the way in New York City while I’m studying in Atlanta makes me a little sad, and just a tad bit stressed, so I let the music transport me to another place. I move in time to the drumbeat, and imitate the hip motions of the other dancers. Sam does a version of what the men are doing, which ends up looking like a little jump with his hands up.
Then the fast drumbeat slows down and couples start moving in close. Sam pulls me into a very modest embrace. He knows what it is. We might be a couple, but I don’t do the whole dirty-dancing thing. That’s not me.
“So, when you go to college in ATL, are you going to get a replacement boyfriend since I won’t be there?”
“We’ll have to see. I’ll have to do something to pass the time, right?”
“Sunday . . .”
I shake my head and smile. “Nope. You don’t get to make the rules. You’re chasing the paper, right?”
“Well, that’s because I’m done chasing you. I’ve already caught you.”
This tickles me for some reason and it makes me laugh. “Okay, dude. I’m caught . . . for now. But let me hear one story about you and some New York groupie . . .”