by Nikki Carter
“Maybe not just for the money, but yeah. If I was a regular dude you wouldn’t have given me any play.”
Dreya laughs. “You’re right. But I don’t date regular dudes—only bosses.”
Jacinto snaps photos through their entire conversation. I want a photo album of his candid shots!
“Right before the group photo, I want Sam and Sunday together. It should be a profile shot, and I want Sam standing with his hands in his pockets looking down at Sunday. Sunday, kick off your high heels, place both hands on Sam’s chest, and stand on your tiptoes. Part your mouth, like you’re in awe of him.”
I clear my throat and look at the sky for a second. Then, I give myself a pep talk. I’m a professional, I can do this. It’s just Sam. I really liked him once, so I should be able to do this.
I glance over at DeShawn to see if he even cares, but he’s chatting it up with Kevin and playing with his cell phone. He’s in the business, so he knows that a photo shoot is just that—a photo shoot. It’s not real.
So, I shake off my issues, and kick off my shoes. “Come on, Sam,” I say. “Let’s give them some Reign Records romance.”
Is that a glimmer of hope I see on Sam’s face? I’m not sure, because as quickly as it came it disappeared.
I play up my part and lift an eyebrow as I gaze at Sam with parted lips. Sam’s expression is nothing but melancholy and sadness. It is the opposite of romantic. But I guess it works because Jacinto is squealing again about how hot these poses are.
Sam jumps when I place my hand on his chest. My touch seems to make him nervous.
“Hold that!” Jacinto yells.
And Jacinto snaps away, capturing this awkward moment between me and Sam. While everyone else cheers about what great models we are, I know that neither one of us is acting. Sam is tripping so much on us not being together that he pretended to have a girlfriend.
And I pretended not to care.
18
It’s early in the morning when I get the call to go to the dean’s office. I can’t think of a reason why Dr. Whitacre would want to see me, other than me paying Piper’s tuition bill. That was supposed to be a secret, though, so that’s probably not it.
I quickly get dressed in a knee-length skirt, cardigan, thick tights, and boots. It’s nearing the end of winter, but this morning there’s a chill in our room letting me know that it’s even colder outside.
Ten minutes later, after a brisk walk across campus, I’m in Dr. Whitacre’s waiting area trying to warm my nose and hands.
I notice that there are three other girls here, dressed in similar outfits and looking as confused as I am. The one sitting next to me is shaking and has tears rolling down her cheeks.
The crying girl asks me, “Did you get a phone call this morning to come here?”
“Yes, did you?”
“I did. My mother’s going to kill me if I lose my scholarship.”
Both my eyebrows rise in surprise. “Wait a minute. You know what this is about?”
“You don’t? This girl on campus got busted for selling papers. Dean Whitacre is calling in anyone who’s associated with it.”
“But I didn’t buy any . . .” Of course. The gift that
Dreya gave me has come back to haunt me. Dang, dang, dang!
The crying girl bursts into tears again. “There’s just so much pressure, you know! I have to get good grades or I lose my scholarship.”
I try to shush her. With a thing like cheating, admitting that you succumbed to the pressure of college life isn’t really a good argument. She needs to come up with a better story than that.
“They don’t have any proof, do they?” I ask.
Crying girl shakes her head. “Only Natalie’s word on who she sold the papers to.”
When the door to Dr. Whitacre’s office opens, a girl walks out looking completely devastated. There are tears rolling down her face, and she can’t stop sobbing.
“But I want to be a Spelmanite!” crying girl number two wails. “I can’t go to community college!”
The first crying girl jumps up from by my side and runs out the office like she’s being chased by brain-eating zombies. Leaving me as the next person to enter Dr. Whitacre’s office.
I take timid steps into Dr. Whitacre’s office and stand in the doorway, trying to gauge her mood. She looks furious, like her head is going to spin right around on her neck. Her glasses are perched right on the tip of her nose, and her bun has so many stray hairs hanging loose, that she looks like she got up and kicked the last girl’s behind.
“Close the door behind you and come sit down,” Dr. Whitacre says.
I do what she says, and slowly take a seat in the hard wooden chair in front of her desk.
“Do you know why you’re here, Ms. Tolliver?” Dr. Whitacre asks.
I shake my head, although now I have an idea. “I don’t think so.”
“Last week, there was a report about a young woman on campus who was selling papers to her sister Spelmanites. When I brought her in for questioning, she admitted her wrongdoing and named you as one of the recipients of the purchased compositions. What do you have to say about this?”
First of all, can I just say that I understand now the whole purpose of the interrogation room on Law & Order and every other cop show my mother loves to watch on TV? I feel as if Dr. Whitacre already knows all of the answers and that her only job is to try to catch me in a lie.
“I did receive one of the papers, however, I did not purchase it, nor did I turn it in. I am not a cheater.”
Dr. Whitacre narrows her eyes at me as if she’s trying to see right through me. I can tell that this is not the answer she expected.
“Really? Then how do you explain this?” Dr. Whitacre slams my most recent assignment from Mrs. Due’s class on the desk in front of me. “Your professor says that this is the first paper you’ve submitted that wasn’t mediocre.”
“That is true. This is the first paper in her class that I spent time and effort on. I even had to rewrite it from memory two days before it was due because my computer crashed.”
“Even if this is your work, there’s still the matter of you purchasing one of the papers.”
I clear my throat and exhale calmly. “I did not purchase the paper. My cousin, who doesn’t even attend Spelman or any other institution of higher learning, bought the paper and sent it to me as a gift.”
“That is a very convenient story, Ms. Tolliver.”
“Convenient and true.”
“You’re dismissed, Ms. Tolliver. Send in the next girl.”
“That’s all?”
She nods. “Yes. I don’t have proof that you purchased this paper. All of the other girls have admitted to their cheating.”
I stand from my seat. “I’m sorry to even be associated with this, and I told my cousin that I did not appreciate her purchasing a paper for me.”
“You should also know that I not only take cheating very seriously, but lying as well. If you are not telling the truth, it would only help you to come clean right now. If I find out that you’re lying, you will surely be expelled.”
In this moment, I understand suspects who lie and say that they committed a crime. I almost feel compelled to make up a story so that Dr. Whitacre can be right.
Instead, I say, “I understand.”
A chill runs down my spine as I walk out of Dr. Whitacre’s office. I can’t believe how close I came to using that paper. If it hadn’t been for Gia talking some sense into me, I might be getting kicked out of school right now. Talk about something not being a good look!
When I get back to my room, Gia is already awake and fully dressed. “Where did you go so early?”
I sit down on the Gia’s bed and scoot back to the wall. “I had to meet with Dr. Whitacre.”
“What for?”
I fill Gia in on Dreya’s misdeeds and the subsequent drama that ensued. She just sits on the bed shaking her head in shock.
“Your cousin alway
s causes trouble for you, doesn’t she?” Gia asks after hearing the entire story.
I shrug and let out a big sigh. “It seems like she can’t help it. As crazy as it sounds, she really thought she was doing me a favor when she bought that paper. I think we’re friends again.”
“That’s not what friends do,” Gia says.
Sometimes, someone will say something that immediately makes me want to write song lyrics. Gia just totally did that. I grab my journal off of the desk and start writing.
“You’re weird,” Gia says.
“Hush! I need quiet.”
I scribble furiously. When you left, you said it wasn’t the end/Said you needed a little time/That you had to just make up your mind/When you left, you said we’d always be friends/But you’re talkin’ ’bout me all over town/Telling your boys I’ve been messin’ around/I’d never do that to you/Wouldn’t put you in that position/That’s not a friend to me/But tell me what’s your definition?/That’s not what friends do/That’s not what friends do/Lovin and leavin/lyin’ and schemin’/Breakin’ my heart/When you say that you’re leavin’/That’s not what friends do/That’s not what friends do/If you’re supposed to be a friend to me/ Then give me an enemy.
When I look up from my writer’s haze, Gia is staring at me. “Are you back now? Because you totally just went to another planet right then.”
“I’m sorry, girl. When the muse strikes I have to listen to it. I think I just wrote my first country/western song.”
“For real? What you gonna do with that?”
“Sell it, I hope. Country artists sell a lot of records. Way more than R and B. Evan would probably bust a blood vessel if he heard this song.”
“He wouldn’t like it?”
“No, that would be from excitement. He would love it, and that’s the problem. I don’t want him liking my stuff too much. He might start thinking he owns me.”
“That’s not good.”
“Nope. All bad.”
I haven’t been a part of Evan’s “camp” that long, and already I feel myself pulling away from him and protecting myself. Not that I think he’s out for anything other than success, or anything, but maybe he’s too ambitious, and I’m scared for my cousin.
“Gia, can I tell you something that is super top-secret?”
Gia makes a zip-her-lips motion. “You can tell me anything.”
“This is take-it-to-the-grave secret.”
“Got it!” Gia sounds irritated, but I am dead serious with this.
“Okay . . . so I think Dreya is pregnant.”
Gia’s mouth opens wide. “Shut the heck up. Why would she want to get pregnant? Y’all are just about to blow up!”
“She overheard that Epsilon Records wants Evan to drop her from the Reign Records label. They are our parent company, and they really make all the decisions.”
“So, then she goes to another label! What does that have to do with a baby?”
“I really think that Dreya wants the fame and the money without actually doing any work for it.”
“But she’s so talented. I mean, getting pregnant by a baller is what groupies and non-factor chicks do.”
“I tried to tell her that. I wish she believed in herself as much as we do.”
My phone buzzes so I pull it from underneath my bra strap to check the text message.
Gia rolls her eyes at me. “You do know that cell phones have low levels of radiation right? You’re going to get cancer of the shoulder or something with your country self.”
“Country? Just ’cause you from the Midwest, you don’t get to call me country. I am a Southern belle, honey.”
“Southern Boo Boo,” Gia says while holding her nose.
I crack up laughing at Gia as I open a picture text. Ooh! It’s pictures from the photo shoot. Jacinto says, I wanted you to see these first.
The pictures of us all together are really, really cute. I think they’d make a wonderful cover of Vibe. The one of me and Dreya screams record sales. When I get to the ones of me and Sam, I drop the phone on the bed.
“What?” Gia asks. Then she doesn’t wait for me to answer, she picks up my phone and looks for herself.
“Oh my goodness. These look good. Sam . . . he’s so, so intense. He’s looking at you like you’re the last woman on earth, Sunday.”
“No, not the last woman. He brought a girl with him to the photo shoot and let me think she was his new boo, but the hairstylist knew he wasn’t telling the truth.”
“So, he was trying to make you jealous, because you keep flaunting DeShawn everywhere. You took him to the Grammys for crying out loud. Sam’s gotta have some dignity.”
I throw one of Gia’s pillows at her. “Whose side are you on?”
“I’m not on anybody’s side. I just think that you still care about him, even though he’s a cheater.”
“Not just that! He smokes weed now, too. I don’t like that.”
Gia throws one hand into the air. “Uh, okay! Illegal drugs are whack.”
“Right.”
“But you still care about him, Sunday. And you need to address those feelings.”
I scrunch my nose into a frown. “You know what you need to do?”
“What?”
“Stop giving unsolicited advice.”
Gia shrugs and chuckles. “I’m just saying.”
I so don’t care if Gia is right about my feelings for Sam. I have to admit that the photo shoot had me a little twisted, and having Sam in my personal space trying to make me jealous was a bit much. But she’s dead wrong about me needing to deal with anything. The only thing I need to do is let the feelings fade, because that’s what feelings do with the passing of time.
There is a light knock on our door. Gia pops up to answer it. It’s her cousin Hope and Piper—an unlikely combination. Piper is in tears and her hair is disheveled. Hope has her arm around Piper as she leads her into the room.
“Look who I found wandering around the campus,” Hope says as she guides Piper to the bean bag chair.
Gia says, “Piper, you look a mess, girl. You gotta pull yourself together. Linden was a total dog.”
Piper looks up and fresh tears roll down her face. “I-I totally get that. Linden was a dog, but Meagan . . .”
“Is as bad as he is, . . .” I say. “She should be mad that he was playing her too, but she’s not. I don’t understand why you’re so sad. Kick them both to the curb.”
“Before all of this, Meagan and I were talking about hanging out on spring break and going to Destin together. She even invited me to her parents’ house in Martha’s Vineyard for the summer. We were going to go bike riding and eat custard out of cups. It sounded wonderful.”
Gia, Hope, and I all look at each other. I suppose they don’t know what to say either, because I can’t think of one word that I can give in reply to this.
Piper continues, “I’ve never had a friend like Meagan before—you know, someone rich and privileged. It felt like I was going to maybe have the life of one of the popular girls in one of those teen novels Hope likes to read.”
I look at Hope and lift an eyebrow. “Don’t judge me,” Hope says.
“Who in the world cares about popular and privileged?” Gia asks.
Piper says, “That’s easy for you to say. You brought your entire clique with you to Atlanta. Hope, your father is a rich pastor, and Sunday is a celebrity! Where do I fit? I was going to pledge Gamma Phi Gamma, but there’s no way I’ll get in now, with Meagan a shoo-in. She’ll ruin my chances.”
“Forget about Gamma Phi Gamma,” I say. “You, my friend, are a member of the most elite clique on campus.”
Piper rolls her eyes and says, “And what’s that?”
“My entourage!”
Gia twists her lips to the side. “I thought we just made that up for club night.”
“It doesn’t have to be just for the club. You are my sisters. And I think I want to take my sisters on a shopping spree.”
“How ma
ny times she gonna tease us with this?” Gia asks. “Last time you were taking us shopping you ran off to do Evan’s bidding.”
“Well, this time, I think we should go furniture shopping,” I say. “For our new apartment!”
Hope, Gia, and Piper squeal. Then, Hope stops. “Wait. Am I in your entourage? I only hang out with y’all sometimes, but I want to live with you too!”
“Please, Sunday! She can share a room with me,” Gia says.
I give a little grin. “Next thing you know you’re going to try to move Ricky and Kevin up in there too.”
“Kevin is your assistant,” Piper says. “And he’s a hottie. I don’t see why not.”
Then, I consider the possibilities. Instead of an apartment, I can have a house. A big house that I can purchase with cash, and I can move all of my friends in with me. It will save them money on their college bills, and every weekend will be a party.
“Let’s go house shopping, y’all. I think I want a pool.”
19
Mystique and I are enjoying lunch at Paschal’s in honor of the Vibe photo shoot. The magazine’s editors decided to use the picture of me and Dreya for the cover, which annoyed Evan, but made Dreya happier than a clam.
“I’m buying a house,” I say. “Do you know any real estate agents?”
“Yes, I have a good one. I’ll tell her to call you. What are you in the market for?”
“I want a big house. Five bedrooms at least, four, maybe five, baths, a pool, and a theater room.”
“Whoa. All that? Where you want to stay?”
“Buckhead, I think. I’m not trying to have to drive too far to go to school.”
“Buckhead? Girl, how much you trying to spend?”
“I don’t know. Five hundred thousand at the most.”
Mystique taps her chin. “You might be able to get something in foreclosure for that price.”
“Good. That’s what I want.”
Mystique picks up the magazine and smiles. “This picture is so cute! It’s almost like an alter ego shoot, and who knew Dreya could look that sweet?”
“She is a good actress! And the photo shoot was fun.”
Mystique flips through the pages. “Did they interview y’all for the article?”