by Nikki Carter
At first glance, Anjelica doesn’t really look like someone I’d hire to dress me. She stands about four feet five inches tall, and she has shocking white hair, even though her face doesn’t look older than about forty. She’s wearing a blue crushed velvet cat suit, knee-high leather boots, and a leather jacket with gray fur. I sure hope she can do something other than her look, because, yeah, I’m not rocking anything that looks like that.
“Is there someone who can help carry up my samples?” Anjelica asks.
“Dreya and I can do it. There’s an elevator in the dorm.”
Dreya looks at me like I’m crazy. “Girl, you know I don’t carry stuff. I am way too fly for that. Can’t you call some of your little boyfriends?”
I let out a groan and dial DeShawn’s number on my cell phone. He answers on the first ring. “Hey, beautiful,” he says.
“Hi, DeShawn.” I refuse to acknowledge his greeting. “Could you do me a super huge favor?”
“Anything, but keep it PG, because I’m with Ricky and Kevin.”
“Boy, stop! I’m glad you’re with Ricky and Kevin though. Can y’all come over to my dorm like right now? I’ve got this stylist here and she’s got all this stuff to haul up to my room.”
“Stylist?”
“Yeah, she’s gonna pick my Grammy outfit.”
“Well, of course we can. We’re on the Morehouse campus right now. We’ll be there in like ten minutes.”
“Okay. Thank you, DeShawn!” I disconnect the call and say, “They’ll be here in ten minutes.”
Anjelica says, “While we’re waiting on them, I’m going to get some coffee. From the looks of your current ensemble, it’s going to take quite a while to make you fabulous, honey.”
Dreya cracks up laughing as Anjelica jumps in her Mercedes SUV and drives off.
“What are you laughing at?” I ask.
“Your non-style-having behind,” Dreya says.
“Come on, let’s go upstairs and wait for the guys.”
When we get into my room, Dreya makes herself comfortable on my bed. “This room is too small. It’s like being back at Auntie Shawn’s house,” she says. “When are you going to get your own spot?”
“Probably next year. Freshmen don’t live off-campus really.”
“You don’t think they’d make an exception for you? You’re a celebrity, and you need more space than this.”
So, because I have a hit record and won an award I take up more space than the average person? Sometimes Dreya’s logic is completely crazy, but I guess it makes sense to her.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something. Did you put that video up on YouTube from Mystique’s wedding?”
“No, but I wish I had!” Dreya says. “I loved how they captured Mystique’s face cracking. It was the funniest!”
“That was foul, Dreya. There was nothing funny about that whole thing. How would you like someone ruining your wedding day?”
“Maybe she should’ve tied up all of Zac’s loose ends before tying the knot.”
“I think it was up to Zac to get his baby’s mother in check. Why should Mystique have anything to do with that?”
Dreya shrugs. “Anyway, I don’t care about her. And you need to remove yourself from the crack of her butt. She doesn’t care about you. Not like Evan does. You know he’s paying for the stylist out of his own pocket, because he wants you to look incredible.”
“Really. This is out of the kindness of his heart? I thought it was free. I’ll have to write him a thank you note.”
“I’m not stupid, Sunday. I hear your sarcasm. You are tripping. Evan is your biggest fan. The clothes are free, but Anjelica is pretty expensive.”
For the first time in a long time, I hear some sincerity in Dreya’s voice. I think she really cares for Evan. This scares me, because the last time she put her heart out there, it was with Truth, and he was an even bigger player than Sam’s trifling behind.
“I have no beef with Evan. I just don’t think as highly of him as you do. I appreciate him taking care of the Grammy wardrobe. That’s very generous of him.”
“You better act like you know!” Dreya says.
“How long do you think this is gonna take? An hour? Two? I’ve got to start on this paper for my composition class.”
My phone buzzes on my hip. “Hey, DeShawn. Y’all downstairs?”
“Yeah. Are we supposed to be helping the lady in the Mercedes SUV?”
“Yes, that’s her. Thanks again for doing this.”
“You’re welcome. See you in a second.”
Dreya grins at me as I disconnect the call. “What are you looking at me like that for?” she asks.
“You like him, don’t you?”
“Sure. He’s a cool guy and so far a good friend.”
“Whatever, Sunday. You like him, and it’s okay. It’s not skanky at all to drop a loser and pick up a winner. I think it’ll be good for you to kick it with someone else. Then maybe you can work with Sam without being all twisted.”
“I can work with Sam just fine. As soon as he gets over the fact that we’re not together anymore it’ll be perfect, but he can’t seem to get that through his thick skull. He keeps trying to get back together.”
A knock on my door lets me know that the guys have hauled up at least one load from Anjelica’s car. I swing open the door and watch in awe as they carry in box after box of shoes and several racks of dresses. By the time they’re done, my room is crammed to the hilt with designer wear.
“Where do we start?” I ask, truthfully not knowing how to begin wading through the couture.
Kevin says, “I think you probably should pick a dress first. Then, you can accessorize.”
Everyone stops what they’re doing to stare at Kevin. “What?” he asks. “Isn’t she about to select a Grammy outfit?”
“You’re weird, man,” DeShawn says.
“Weird maybe, but exactly right,” Anjelica says.
As Anjelica whips out the first few items, the guys look for empty places to sit. Ricky takes a glance at Gia’s bed and picks up one of her stuffed Tweety dolls. He holds it up to his nose, closes his eyes, and inhales. Then he gingerly places the toy back on her bed. Yeah, I don’t think she has to worry about him looking for another girlfriend. Dude is totally gone over her.
Anjelica hands me three dresses. “Here, try these first.”
I go into the bathroom and try the first, a burgundy velvet tube dress that has a black sparkly long sleeved vest to go with it. The fit of the dress pushes my boobs up so that they’re saying hello.
This is confirmed as soon as I step out of the bathroom, by DeShawn’s cheering. Kevin gives me a round of applause too.
“That is good, but it is not perfection,” Anjelica says. “We can do better.”
“Yeah, I don’t know if I like those super dark colors on Sunday’s light skin,” Dreya says. “It looks kind of harsh.”
I nod once and trudge back into the bathroom. The next dress is a fitted magenta silk, floor-length gown. I look in the mirror and smile. This, I like. My mother would like it too. I pin my hair into a makeshift French roll and toss on a layer of lip gloss for an extra effect.
Kevin and Ricky gasp as I come into the room this time. DeShawn says, “Okay, I change my mind. This is the one I vote for. You look incredible.”
“She looks like a Disney princess, like she fixing to have a Beauty and the Beast birthday party or something,” Dreya says. “I dislike.”
Anjelica says, “I disagree with you. I picked this out specifically for Sunday. It has an understated, sweet and innocent sexiness. You would never be able to pull it off. On you, the innocence would look contrived, but on Sunday, it is perfection.”
Dreya rolls her eyes. “If I wanted to do innocent, I could. I like being a bad girl.”
“Naiveté is not something you can fake, my dear.”
“Well, whatever. I liked the other outfit better,” Dreya says.
Kevin says, “You�
��ve been outvoted.”
We all watch as Anjelica moves through the boxes, cases, and containers with the ease of a master chef in her very own kitchen. She pulls out the perfect pair of silver, crystal-encrusted shoes.
“Try these.”
They are exactly my size. I gotta give it to Evan, Anjelica is good!
“Is Gia going to be back soon?” Ricky asks.
“I’m not sure,” I say. “I think she’s gonna be gone for a while. She’s doing some research.”
“Maybe I better just go now, then. I don’t want to risk seeing her. Kev and DeShawn, can y’all carry the stuff back down without me?”
“Yeah,” Kevin says. “We got it. But are you sure you don’t want to see Gi-Gi?”
“I’m not sure I should, plus I’m not one-hundred-percent sure she’s even talking to me.” There is such melancholy in Ricky’s voice that I want to jump up and give him a hug.
“All right then, bro, I’ll see you back on campus later,” DeShawn says.
“Bye, Ricky!” I say. “I know you don’t want to see Gia right now, but I think she might like a text later if you think about it.”
Ricky gives me a bittersweet smile. “Okay, I’ll do that.”
After he leaves, Dreya bursts into laughter. “Y’all have the most ridiculous situations. Don’t tell me. They broke up because they would be better as friends.”
“Wrong,” Kevin says. “And you’re not about to sit here and clown my two best friends, so can you change the subject back to Sunday’s accessories?”
Dreya’s jaw drops. “Did this lame just try to check me? Boy, do you know who you’re talking to?”
“Yep. Dreya Tolliver, cousin of one of my favorite singers, Sunday Tolliver, although I’m waiting to see what she does on her follow-up record to solidify my fan status.”
Everyone, except Dreya, cracks up laughing. I haven’t heard anyone call her Dreya outside of family, ever since she released her first record.
“You better get your friends, Sunday,” Dreya warns. But now, we’re laughing so hard that she’s not threatening to anyone.
I hop over to Kevin in my dress and pat him on the back. “Dude. You are so hired.”
“I am? For what?”
“Gia suggested that I hire you as an assistant, and I would love to have you. Anybody who stands up to Evi-lene over there is the perfect choice for me.”
“Score!” Kevin jumps into the air and pumps his fist.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Dreya says. “Now I’ve got to see this dude on a regular basis?”
Kevin smiles at Dreya. “You shouldn’t be so hasty. You might just like me if you tried me out.”
DeShawn gives him a fist bump and I almost collapse from laughter. Dreya’s face turns a crimson shade of red and she balls up her fists at her side.
“I already have a man, thank you. A real man. A real, rich man. Your broke self can step, for real.”
Kevin shrugs. “You had your chance. Don’t come back later trying to holler.”
This is the straw that breaks the camel’s back for Dreya. She hops up from my bed and storms out of my room. If she hadn’t slammed the door behind her, she would’ve heard our giggles all the way down the hall.
“Kevin, don’t make an enemy of Dreya,” I say. “She can be so annoying when she’s trying to get revenge.”
“Ah, I’m just messing with her. I’m actually a huge fan. I just don’t want her to think she can walk all over me, because that’s not about to happen.”
“Well, if she ain’t know before, she knows now!” DeShawn says. “You put her in check.” He emphasizes his point by making a little check mark with his index finger.
“Here, darling. Put on this diamond choker, and see what it looks like with the dress,” Anjelica says.
I struggle with the clasp for a moment, until DeShawn jumps up and says, “Let me.”
I feel his hot breath on my neck as he slowly clamps the choker. It doesn’t take this long to put on a piece of jewelry, so I know he’s taking his time on purpose. When he sits back down, Anjelica squeals at her creation and holds up a mirror for me to see.
“Once we get you in hair and makeup, you are going to be a goddess, honey. Ms. Drama might be mad she and Evan sent me over here.”
“How am I gonna get this stuff to Los Angeles?” I ask. “I don’t like to check bags.”
Anjelica tosses her head back and giggles. “You are a celebrity, honey! You’re going to have to check a bag. But not this time. I will be in L.A. with everything you need because I’m dressing all of the Reign Records crew.”
“Can you bring a tuxedo for my date?” I ask. I point at DeShawn and he grins.
Anjelica says, “Of course. What about your assistant? Will he be attending also?”
“You want to come, Kevin? I will probably need you.”
His eyes widen. “Absolutely. I might have to turn in some assignments in advance, but I am so down for this.”
Kevin and DeShawn help Anjelica pack up all of her boxes and racks, and they make several trips to take them back downstairs. There’s nothing like having strong boys when you need them!
When they’re done, the boys come back upstairs and sprawl out on my floor.
“Hey, y’all can’t stay long. I have some reading to do and a paper to start!” I make my declaration, but I’m not sure if I really mean it. I am not in the mood for reading.
“We’ll be quiet. We just want to hang out in the Grammy award winner’s room.”
“I haven’t won yet, don’t jinx it,” I say.
Kevin frowns. “You can’t jinx a blessing. What God has for you is for you.”
“As churchy as Kevin is, I agree with him,” DeShawn says. “You are blessed, and you deserve the best, so I’m glad you decided to do yourself a favor and ask me out on a date.”
“It’s not a real date, DeShawn.”
“Yes, it is. But next time we go out, I’m paying.”
Kevin laughs, “But you’re broke.”
“What does Sunday need with a rich dude? She’s already paid. She needs a guy who’s gonna keep it real, and not play her. Am I right?”
I feel that no matter how I answer this question it’ll be a trap. DeShawn is growing on me, no doubt about that. A girl can only take but so much of a hot guy before he starts to wear her down. But, I know that I’m still wounded, and those hurts are so fresh that they’re sore to the touch.
“You’re right. That’s exactly what I need, DeShawn, but I’m afraid your timing is really bad.”
“Nah, my timing’s fine. I know you’re not ready now, but when the time is right, we’ll get together. It’s bound to happen.”
“Come on, Romeo,” Kevin says. “Let’s go, so Sunday can do her homework.”
Kevin and DeShawn get up to go, and when they’re almost out the door, DeShawn steps back inside and kisses my cheek.
When I snatch away from him, he says, “Sorry. I’ve wanted to do that this entire afternoon. I won’t do it again. I promise.”
I narrow my eyes at him as that gleeful smile plays across his lips. His promise sounds suspect to me. Very suspect.
Finally the boys are gone and I’m alone with my thoughts. I take out my book and spread out on my bed. I try to read, but my mind keeps drifting off. Thinking about DeShawn.
Then, for some reason, I wonder about Gia and Ricky. They have the kind of relationship I want. The kind of friendship that says, I’d rather be apart than hurt you. Is that too much to ask?
9
Bethany just sang an incredible set at the House of Blues in Atlanta in preparation for album release. The crowd gave her a standing ovation and called her back for not one but two encores. I think she could’ve kept going another few hours without stopping.
Now I’m standing in the hallway outside her dressing room. I raise my hand to knock, but then I change my mind and lower it again. I’m torn about being too friendly toward Bethany. I’d like to offer my co
ngratulations on her performance, but I don’t want her to think that means we’re best friends again. She messed that up our senior year of high school when she dated my ex-boyfriend, and then hooked up with my cousin’s then-boyfriend, Truth.
While I’m deciding whether or not to enter, Big D walks up with a huge smile on his face. “That girl can blow, right? After this record drops, it’s a wrap. We’re talking multiple Grammys and MTV video awards.”
“That’s what’s up,” I say. “Are you going in to talk to Bethany?”
“Yeah. You too?”
I shrug. “Hadn’t decided yet.”
“Come on.” Big D takes my wrist in his hand as he knocks on the door. I hear Bethany croak “Come in” with a tiny, scratchy voice.
Big D opens the door, and a gigantic cloud of smoke billows out of the small dressing room. From the glassy look in Bethany’s eyes, the smoke isn’t from your average cigarette either. She’s doing Sam’s favorite illegal substance—marijuana.
I shake my head, the smell of the room bothering me. “I should go. Good show.”
“Wait, don’t leave.” Bethany reaches out and grips my hand as if for dear life.
“Okay . . .”
Big D kisses Bethany on the top of her head. She smiles so brightly that you’d think he was some kind of teen heartthrob. “You did good, Ms. Whooty,” Big D says.
Ms. Whooty is Big D’s nickname for Bethany. The white girl with a big booty = whooty. My little cousin Manny coined it first, and then after that it stuck.
“Thanks, Big D. Y’all don’t know how much it means to me that y’all are here. My mama didn’t show up. My sisters neither. But I guarantee you they’ll be the first ones with they hands out when the money comes.”
“You don’t need me to tell you that you can sing, but I love the way you sing my music. You might want to lay off the weed, though. Coat your throat with poison enough times, and you might not have a voice anymore.”
Bethany waves one hand in the air. “Oh, this? This ain’t an everyday thing, Sunday. This is just for after my shows. I get so wired being out there on stage. The whole show is like one big stimulant. I was just trying to come back down again.”
I don’t reply to her reasoning. She sounds like a drug addict with her excuses and explanations. All I know is that she’s smoking weed out in the open as if there’s nothing wrong with it—and I’m not with that.