Doing My Own Thing (13 page)

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Authors: Nikki Carter

BOOK: Doing My Own Thing
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18
“T
ell me about the rescue.”
The BET cameraman and producer thought it would be best for me to do a confessional about Sam rescuing the girl almost as soon as we got back to the hotel. I got into hair and makeup for the first scene with Dilly and they were right outside the room waiting for me.
I shift on the tiny stool and try to get comfortable. I think they purposely pick these stools, because the only thing you can do is sit straight up, and look like you've got incredibly great posture when you would really rather slump.
“The rescue was awesome. Sam was . . . he was incredible. I've never seen anything so brave.”
“Was there any point in time that you were afraid? Did you think Sam wouldn't make it back to the kayak?”
I pause for a moment to collect my thoughts. “I was afraid, but I can't say that there was enough time to think or analyze the situation. Sam jumped in the water and I think we both just kind of went on autopilot after that.”
“Does Sam's bravery make you want him as a boyfriend?”
OMG! Seriously? I didn't think they'd go here, but of course, I should've known. They love to go here. It's what gives them an interesting show.
“I don't really like to talk about my personal life, but I did admire what Sam did out there. I will definitely say that.”
“Okay, thanks, Sunday,” the producer says.
When I walk out of the confessional room, Mystique is pacing up and down the resort hallway looking really twisted. The director of my music video, Lena Che, is here too and she doesn't look happy either.
“What's going on?” I ask. “You don't like my hair or something?”
Mystique looks up and appraises me as if she hadn't already done it. Ooookay. It definitely wasn't my hair that's the problem. She just keeps pacing.
Lena says in her clipped British accent, “Sunday, it looks as if we'll have to postpone the shooting.”
“Postpone? Why? We're only here a few days!” I would hate for them to not get the footage they need, and me end up having a bootleg video that we film outside of Big D's studio.
“Because Dilly went and got sunburned,” Mystique says. “I told that high-yellow dummy to put on some sunscreen.”
“Wait a minute, can't we just cover it up with makeup? I mean isn't sunburn just a little redness?”
Mystique shakes her head. “He didn't just burn his skin, he basically got sun poisoning. He and Bethany were out by the pool at high noon with no shade at all. He's got a fever, chills, and vomiting.”
“You have got to be kidding me!” I say. “What's the contingency plan?”
Lena and Mystique look at one another, but neither of them respond.
“You mean to tell me that we came all the way to Barbados, and we don't have a backup plan for this type of thing?” I hear myself ranting, and I try to calm myself down.
Lena replies, “I do know of a modeling agency in Bridgetown that can probably get us someone acceptable, but I don't know if we can get them today. It's Friday afternoon, and everyone is getting prepped for their weekend jobs. The models left will probably not be who you want to use.”
“Well, see about it anyway,” Mystique says. “In the meantime, I need you to practice your moves so that you can help whoever we hire. Lord knows they're not going to have enough time to learn any choreography.”
“You want me to practice by myself? I don't know if that's gonna be effective,” I say, and I'm being one-hundred-percent honest. I need a practice partner.
“Maybe if Sam's head has shrunk back down to normal size, he can help you,” Mystique chuckles.
I didn't think Sam had a big head about the rescue at all. He answered all of the questions everyone asked, with grace and patience. Even when they asked the same question several times. I heard someone mumble that they thought it was staged for the BET camera that was just so conveniently following us on the beach. That irked me, but Sam didn't even flinch and he was close enough to hear it too.
“Sam will help. I just have to ask him.”
Lena asks, “Why can't we use the other guy? The rapper that came with Drama? He might be better than a model.”
“No way,” Mystique replies. “Epsilon would trip all the way out if we had Truth in that video. They don't want Sunday attached to him at all. He's not even supposed to be here.”
Lena shrugs. “Well, then, I'm off to make some phone calls. I'll be back to help with the practicing.”
“Make it happen!” Mystique calls after her.
Instead of going all the way back to the suites, I call Sam's cell phone.
“Hello?” He sounds like he's still sleeping.
“Sam, are you up?”
“I am now. What's good?”
“We kind of had an emergency. Dilly can't be in the video. . . . He's sick.”
“Mmmkay . . .”
I want to burst out laughing. I know Sam so well. And he's thinking,
What does this have to do with me?
“So can you just help me practice while we wait on the replacement to show up?”
I can hear Sam's sigh of relief over the phone. “Oh, is that all? Okay, yeah I can do that.”
“What? Did you think I was gonna make you learn some choreography or something?”
Sam laughs. “You know I don't dance.”
“Real men dance.”
“Real men stand on the wall, while girls back it up!”
I crack up. “Whatever, boy. Can you just get down to the beach cabana? Mystique wants to try to get some practice in since I've got on all this hair and makeup.”
“Okay. See you in a few.”
I press End on the phone and notice that Mystique is staring at me.
“What?”
She gives me a sly grin. “Is someone's on-again, off-again relationship back on again?”
“Um . . . no. Not that I know of. Sam has been pretty clear that he's sick of me playing games and chasing money.”
“But you were cheesing hard just now when you were talking to him.”
And now, I'm cheesing again. “Well, I never said anything about my crush dissipating. He's the one that's done with me.”
“I see. Well let's go to the cabana and wait for him.”
It's crazy going anywhere with Mystique. Even walking from the hotel to the cabana house is a flurry of autographs and pictures with fans. She handles it well, though. She never looks irritated and always has a smile for a little girl or teenager who shouts, “I love you, Mystique!” I even sign a couple of autographs too. It doesn't bother me one bit that some of the kids had no idea who I am. It's okay. They will.
When we get to the cabana house, there is a huge group of Bajan teenagers wearing assorted bathing suits. They're all getting hair and makeup for the video.
“Why couldn't we just use one of them?” I ask. “A couple of them look
quite
acceptable.”
“Because if it's not going to be Dilly, it can't just be some random dude. There are a few models that are
really
hot. Not just regular-guy hot.”
“I like regular guys,” I protest.
“I know. That is a problem,” Mystique replies.
I toss my head back and snort. “What's wrong with regular guys?”
“Regular guys don't get us! They don't get the music industry. They don't get the drive that it takes to get and remain on top. That's why Sam is so frustrated with you.”
I sigh and nod. “Because he wants me to do regular-chick things.”
“Right, like getting your nails done, arguing with him for looking at another girl, or texting him all night.”
“It's not that I wouldn't or don't do all of those things,” I say.
“Right, but first and foremost, what is it?”
“It's the music, it's the money. For college, for my mama. You know what it is.”
“Believe me, I know. I tried to date regular guys. I even tried to have regular girlfriends and it didn't work. My regular boyfriends were always jealous and the girls get jealous too at some point.”
“So that's how you ended up with Zac?” I ask.
“Yep. Zac understands the grind. He understands everything I do to be successful. And he's not threatened by it. He loves me more for it. My grind complements his hustle.”
I give serious thought to this as Dreya walks up wearing an almost invisible flesh-colored two-piece bikini. Is Sam always going to feel like second fiddle to my music career? And is he going to be able to handle anything else I do?
Can I not deal with the regular?
On closer inspection, I can see that Dreya got her hair and makeup done too. This girl was not playing when she said she was going to be wherever the cameras are. Mystique takes one look at her and rolls her eyes.
“Hey, cuzzo,” Dreya says. “You look fly.”
Since getting a compliment from Dreya is a rarity, I reply, “Thank you, cuzzo. You look good too.”
Then I realize that she probably only gave me a compliment so that the cameras could catch her being benevolent to her cousin. . . . Wow. . . .
“So, I thought you and Truth would be hanging at the beach or something.”
She shrugs and looks away from me. “Nah. I don't know where he is. Probably kicking it with Sam and Big D or something.”
“Sam's here. He's about to come down to practice with me, but maybe he's with Big D. I haven't seen Big D since we checked in.”
“I think Big D and Shelly had a couples' spa day,” Mystique says.
I chuckle at the thought of Big D getting a pedicure, or a hot rocks massage. Ha! Shelly deserves it, though. She puts up with much mess from Big D and from all of his artists.
Dreya's facial expression is strange. It's her thinking pose, but she's also got a fake smile plastered on her face. I know what the smile is for—the camera—but what is she thinking about?
Just when I decide to ask her, Sam strides across the beach looking well rested. He smiles like he's excited to practice for a video shoot when I know he's really not that excited.
“So what do y'all want me to do?” Sam asks. “Stand where dude is gonna stand so Sunday can do her thang?”
Mystique replies, “A little more than stand there. I need you to at least walk through, so she can get her musical queues down.”
“At least walk through?” Sam asks. “If that's the least I can do, what's the most I can do?”
I laugh out loud. “You feeling real frisky, aren't you?”
Mystique joins in with my laughter. “Okay, Sam. You can do the choreography too if you want.”
“Let me see it,” Sam says.
“Didn't you just say men don't dance?” I ask.
“Well, I'm not about to do any
crazy
dancing, but maybe a couple of steps.”
Mystique says, “Welll, there's not really a lot of dancing. Sunday is going to see you at a beach party. You're posted up on the side sipping a beverage, but your eyes meet.”
“That's on the first verse, right?” I ask.
“Yes,” Mystique nods. “When you're singing
When I first saw you/You were so incredible to me/All I could do is watch you/A guy like you would never talk to me.
”
“That doesn't sound hard,” Sam says.
“Then on the bridge where she says,
Seems like I'm hiding in plain sight/Wish you would open up your eyes
, you're going to walk toward her like you are coming up to talk to her, but you're going to walk through her like she's invisible. That part we'll do with a green screen.”
Sam claps his hands together. “That's hot right there.”
“It is,” Mystique agrees. “I just wish Dilly wasn't sick. We've already practiced it with him.”
“I can do it,” Sam says.
“Show and prove,” Mystique says.
Lena, the video director, walks up to us. She had been coaching the group of extras and now she probably wants to show Sam the ropes.
“Drama, exactly where do you plan to be while we're shooting?” Lena asks. “I need to make sure you don't contaminate any of my shots.”
Dreya's face scrunches into an angry frown. “What do you mean contaminate your shot? If you get me in it, you've done nothing but upgrade your shot.”

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