by Nikki Carter
Q. No Diddy?
A. Wasn’t the question about rappers? He’s a mogul . . . not a rapper!
Don’t miss Nikki Carter’s
All the Wrong Moves,
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“Come on, Sunday. Give it your all. I know you can push this song out.”
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m recording my very first single on my very first album that’s got me totally twisted.
Maybe it’s the fact that mega-super R & B star Mystique is producing the song and is my mentor! Her words of encouragement are not helping, even though she has a smile on her face.
Mystique continues, “Sunday, I know you’ve got it in you. I’ve heard you sing the mess out of this song. Do you need me to leave?”
I shake my head no.
“Do you want me to come in the booth with you?”
I cock my head to one side and shrug. I don’t know if that will help, but at this point I’m willing to try anything because I’m tired, hungry, and thirsty.
Sam, the recording engineer and my sort-of crush says over the microphone, “I’m taking a break. Y’all let me know when you’re ready.”
I feel the tension leave my body when Sam walks out of the recording room. Oh no! That’s it! Sam is the reason I can’t get this song right.
“Talk to me, mama,” Mystique says as she steps into the tiny recording booth. “You seem a little stressed today.”
I play with my ponytail nervously. “I-I don’t know what it is.”
Mystique smiles. “I think you know what it is, and you don’t want to tell me.”
“Okay . . . maybe you’re right.”
“Does it have anything to do with that video on YouTube?”
I sigh at the thought of that video. It was the night of rapper Truth’s release party at Club Pyramids, here in Atlanta. It was a hot mess of an evening.
Sam was pissed because I wouldn’t be his “official girl,” so he was tripping and dancing all crazy on some groupie chicks. Truth, who goes out with my cousin Dreya, took that as his opportunity to push up on me yet again, even though I’d told him no a hundred times. But since Sam was acting a fool with the groupies, I acted an even bigger fool and danced with Truth, knowing that Sam would flip the heck out.
And he definitely flipped out.
He bloodied Truth’s face up right before his show, and although the concert went on, the fight was the biggest news of the night. Somebody had used the video camera on his phone to capture the whole thing.
It was on YouTube before we even got home that night.
Ever since then, I’ve been trying to make it up to Sam. We’re supposed to be going to prom together, but it’s in three weeks and Sam still isn’t speaking to me.
“I guess it has a little bit to do with the video,” I admit to Mystique.
“Listen. You guys can’t let that stuff get to you. If I got upset about everything that’s on the Internet about me and my man, I’d never get any sleep.”
“Yeah, but the blogs only have rumors about you! They don’t have anything concrete. They’ve got video of me.”
Mystique places a hand on my arm. “It’s just your first lesson in being in the limelight. Just remember that someone is always watching.”
“That’s the problem! I don’t know if I want that! I just want to be a normal teenager.”
“There are pros and cons to being a celebrity. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything, Sunday! I’ve traveled the world, met the president, and I have millions of fans who care about me. Do you know I got three hundred thousand birthday cards?”
I laugh out loud. “Wow! Really?”
“Yes. And you’ll have the same thing. You’re so talented, and I know you can do this.”
“But this song . . . it’s about a girl having a crush on a guy. It’s just hard to do with Sam out there mean mugging me.”
“Yeah, guys have pretty fragile egos. He’s just hurt right now, I guess.”
“But why the double standard? I didn’t trip about his groupie chicks.”
Mystique chuckles. “From what I heard you did trip! You danced with Truth? Girl, you know that was messy.”
“It was messy, wasn’t it?”
“Just talk to Sam. Admit you were wrong, and then maybe y’all can get back to being friends again.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, but I need you to do it quickly, so we can record this single.”
Sam walks back into the studio and says over the mic, “You ready, Sunday?”
I glance at Mystique, and she nods. “Sam, I need to make a phone call. Can you hold on a sec?” she asks.
She winks at me on the way out of the booth and mouths, “Talk to him.”
I bite my lip as I try to get up the courage to talk to Sam. He seems to be deep in thought as he plays what sounds like random notes on the keyboard. I know him, though, so it’s not random. He’s got a melody in his head.
I step out of the booth and ask, “Working on something new?”
“What? Oh, naw. Not feeling inspired too much.”
“Lost your muse?” I ask.
That was an inside joke, but Sam doesn’t laugh. We worked so well together writing the songs on Dreya’s album that he’d started calling me his muse.
“Yeah, I guess so,” he replies.
I clear my throat, trying to think of a way to start this conversation. “Y’all video got twenty thousand hits on YouTube.”
Sam gives me a crazy look. Why in the world did I say that? OMG! Open mouth and insert foot.
“Twenty thousand people saw me puttin’ work in on Truth. Sweet.”
“You’re such a guy.”
“Yeah. I am.”
“You did kinda put a beat-down on him, though.”
Sam frowns. “Wish I hadn’t done it, though. It wasn’t worth it.”
“I wasn’t worth fighting for?” I ask. “Wow.”
“Well, why should I be fighting over a girl who doesn’t want to be with me? That doesn’t make a lot of sense.”
“Sam, I never said I didn’t want to be your girl.”
“You never said you did.”
This conversation is going in circles. “So, are we not friends anymore now? ’Cause I still want us to be friends, Sam.”
“I guess we can be friends, but you’re gonna have to give me a while to get over the whole thing with Truth. When I see him, I just want to punch him again.”
“You can’t do that! I need . . . I mean we need you on the tour.”
“Y’all don’t need me. I’m the studio engineer and producer. I can stay here over the summer.”
I touch Sam’s shoulder and feel him flinch. “Sam, can you imagine how crazy that’s gonna be for me if I have to be on tour with Dreya, Truth, and Bethany, without you? As a matter of fact, I’m gonna pull out if you don’t go.”
“Are you crazy? You can’t pull out of the tour. Mystique and Epsilon Records would trip.”
“I’m not going unless you go.”
“It’s not that serious, Sunday.”
“Yes, it is.”
He sighs. “All right, cool. I’ll go.”
“Yay!” I kiss Sam on the cheek, and he flinches again.
“Don’t . . .”
“Friends don’t kiss each other on the cheek?”
“I don’t want your lips on me.”
I give him a smart-aleck smirk. “That’s not true. You soooo want my lips on you.”
“Sunday, don’t play with my emotions.”
“Okay, I’ll stop. But can I ask you one more thing?”
“What?”
“Are we still going to prom together?”
Sam puffs his cheeks with air and taps a few notes on the keyboard. I can tell he’s trying to think of an answer.
“I mean, it’s okay if you don’t . . .” I say.
“It’s not that I don’t want to, but I got so angry with y
ou that I asked another girl at my school to go to my prom.”
“Oh.” I blink a few times because I refuse to let a tear drop. He asked someone else? He could’ve told me before he did that. I thought we were better than that. I guess I was wrong.
“You didn’t ask someone else?” he asks.
“No. I thought we’d make up by the time prom came.”
“Do you still want me to go to your prom with you?”
I shrug. “If you want to, I guess. I don’t have a date.”
Sam flashes a bright smile. “Okay. We can go as friends.”
“Right. As friends.”
Mystique comes back into the recording room. “Are we ready to record now?”
“Yes,” I reply. “Let’s do this.”
DAFINA KTEEN BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2011 by Nikki Carter
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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ISBN: 978-0-7582-7223-2