Get Over It (18 page)

“Mom, Sam's hurt too. Put him in on the prayer!”

I can hear my mother's prayer through the phone. She's praying for healing and for strength for everyone involved.

This is gonna be bad for Club Pyramids, though. They might just get shut down this time. How is it that everyone got checked with their special wand on the floor, and someone still got in here with weaponry? No one even knows who shot first! I just know that weapons got discharged on both sides, and Evan was the only one hit.

I refuse to put my detective skills to work on this problem, though. I'm saving all of my worry for Dreya.

“What hospital are y'all at?” my mother asks.

“Atlanta General. Are you coming?”

“Yes, and keep the prayer line going.”

Is she crazy? All we can do right now is pray. We are going to pray and push, and pray some more. Pray until something happens, my grandmother always says. So that's what we're doing . . . praying until Evan opens his eyes.

I close the laptop and look around my living room. It looks like a disaster area with people sleeping on the furniture and on pallets on the floor. Dreya took herself into my bedroom after I forced her to lie down. She wouldn't leave the hospital until she was forced either, but the doctor told her that Evan was fine, and that she needed to rest for her baby.

Sam, who is sitting on the floor in front of me, asks, “You all right, babe? You need me to fix something to eat?”

I shake my head. “Not all right, and no to the food. Big D is in jail, man. Can we get him out?”

“Shelly's working on it. Of course they have the bail money, it's just that it's the weekend, you know. A judge won't see him until maybe Monday.”

“I'm not going to be okay until he's out of jail.”

My phone buzzes with yet another text. My phone has been blowing up since last night.

It's Lawrence. Are you guys holding it down? How can I help?

I ignore the text. I nearly fall off the bar stool when my front door suddenly opens. It was like I was reliving last night and needed to dive under a table or something. But it's just my mama, Auntie Charlie, and Manny. Manny looks mad as what that someone pulled him out of the bed to come over here at the crack of dawn.

My mother runs over to me and hugs me tight. “You are not grown! You're coming back home where I can keep an eye on you.”

“I'm watching out for her, ma'am,” Sam says.

She gives him some mother-bear like side eye. “You, along with all y'all other cronies, better be glad none of mine got hurt in that mess.” She turned back to me. “I heard your daddy was there trying to be a bouncer or something.”

“He was, but he disappeared into thin air before the police got there,” I say.

“That fool ain't trying to go back to prison,” Aunt Charlie says. “He's a dummy fooling with them felons anyway. Where's my daughter?”

I point at my bedroom door. “In there.”

“You got some cereal?” Manny asks. “I'on want no bacon.”

I rummage in the cabinets until I find a box of Froot Loops that belongs to DeShawn. “You want these?” I ask.

“I want some Cap'n Crunch, but I'll take it.”

DeShawn comes downstairs, dressed in his workout apparel. He scans the room and his eyes rest on Sam. I think I see a flicker of resentment, but it quickly fades.

“Anybody need anything?” he asks. “I'm going out for a few hours.”

“No, we're good,” I reply before Sam gets a chance to say something ignorant.

DeShawn leaves and my mother's eyebrows fly up. “What exactly is going on here? How many
friends
you got up in here?”

Sam answers for me. “Only one. The others are tenants.”

My mother laughs out loud and gives Sam a high-five. “You better get your girl!”

My mom's laughter cracks the ice that is hovering around the room.

I ignore my mom and Sam's friendly banter for a moment, and I grab my laptop and bring it to the counter. I look down at my arm and see a smudge. I think it's dirt, but when I start rubbing it, it turns red. It's blood. I close my eyes and shake my head. It's Evan's blood, but it could've been mine.

“Sam, do you have any frequent flier miles?” I ask.

“Yeah, but why do you want them? You going somewhere?”

I nod. “I'm going to New York. I've got some business to attend to. Lawrence made me a proposition, and I need to respond.”

Sam looks surprised. “You want to go now? Like today?”

“Tomorrow. I've got finals after that and I need to be done with this foolishness.”

And by foolishness, I mean the industry. I mean Reign Records, I mean Epsilon, I mean all of it. I don't want to be a star, if it means I have to be afraid for my life. I'll take normal and alive over the fab life any day.

“A
re you sure you want to go through with this?” Sam asks. “It's your career, Sunday.”

One look at Sam's cane and arm still in a sling and my decision is confirmed. All of this violence, hating, and competition is not where I want to be right now. I'm above all of it. I'm nineteen, and I want to be nineteen for crying out loud! I don't want to be a target or in the middle of someone's war zone. It's not worth it.

Turns out, Bryce's cousin shot at Evan, and then Big D shot back at them into the crowd. A couple of innocent bystanders were hit with stray bullets. No one died, thank God. The biggest injury was to Evan, who is coming along just fine.

“My career will still be here when I'm all done with school.”

“You're determined to do the collegiate thing.”

“I am totally determined to graduate and get my law degree. Absolutely.”

Sam puts his free arm around my shoulder and says, “Well, I support you then. I just don't want you doing this because I got hurt.”

“That's part of it, but for real, Sam? I almost got hit!”

“They were gunning for Evan, not you.”

“I don't care. I was in the line of fire, and they shot the gun. It's amazing you weren't killed.”

Totally done with this conversation, I push open the conference room door at the Epsilon Records New York City office, where Lawrence and Caterina, another Epsilon executive, are already waiting for me.

Lawrence stands to his feet. “Hi, Sunday! Welcome back to NYC. I know you're a Georgia peach, but I hope you are enjoying your stay.”

“Well, my tour guide is somewhat disabled, so I haven't really seen much.”

Caterina says, “Would you like us to send an intern over?”

I chuckle and take a seat at the huge conference table. Sam and Lawrence follow suit. “No, I'm fine. It was a bad attempt at humor that obviously failed miserably.”

Sam and I are sitting opposite Caterina and Lawrence. I can see the looks of worry on both their faces. I haven't told them why I want to meet. I just told them that it was an emergency and that it couldn't wait.

“So, what is so urgent, Sunday?” Lawrence asks, finally breaking the thick layer of ice that covers the room.

“Well, I think it's best if I just get to it. I've turned in my sophomore album, and I don't want to sign another contract. Reign Records is finito, and I just want to move on from being an artist.”

“What about publicity for the new record?” Caterina asks.

All of the drama that's gone down with Epsilon, Reign Records, and Big D in the A should be enough publicity for the next ten records for real. No one needs to see my name in the headlines anytime soon.

“I will be available for limited publicity. No tours, but maybe a few spot shows here or there.”

“But why?” Lawrence asks. “Aside from the obvious, I mean. Nobody wants to be a part of violent or criminal activities, but you are so close to icon status, Sunday! The thing that we want for every artist could happen to you. It should happen!”

What they're not understanding is that I never wanted icon status. I've never wanted the celebrity life. This music thing was only great because it was going to pay for the collegiate thing. Guess what? My college is paid in full. I've got more than enough money for law school, and if I play my cards right, I'll never be broke again.

“My studies are suffering,” I say. “If I want to get into a good law school, I have to focus on my grades.”

Lawrence and Caterina look at each other as if they still don't get it.

“Why work so hard for a job that might pay you six figures a year when you could make eight figures a year?” Caterina asks.

“Because that's what I want. I have enough money to live on for the rest of my life. Money doesn't mean as much to me as it does to everyone around here.”

“We, of course, want you to be happy,” Caterina says. “But ask yourself, could you truly live with yourself if you weren't doing music?”

“Oh, I plan to still write songs for other artists, and I think I'll still make great money doing that. I just don't want to be an artist.”

With Bethany blowing up the charts like she is, she's poised to be the next Britney Spears. That means more money in the bank without me ever having to grace the stage. Sounds about right to me.

“What about you, Sam?” Lawrence asks. “What are you gonna do? Sunday not being an artists is gonna cut into your cash flow as well.”

“We're still a writing team, so whatever she wants to do will work for me.”

I think Lawrence was probably hoping that Sam would influence me to keep putting out albums. He obviously is not aware of the fact that I am a Spelman free-thinking woman! No man is going to lead me until I'm someone's wife, and that's not happening anytime soon.

“You don't have to re-sign with us,” Caterina says, “but if you do decide to do another record, we retain the right of first refusal.”

Yeah, this part I know. They basically get first dibs on my next project before any other record company. I'm cool with that. I've never had an issue with Epsilon. It's the hood antics that have me shook.

“You'll be the first to know if I decide to work on new music, but it won't be before I graduate.”

“Well, I guess we're done here. Unless there's something we can do to convince you to stay,” Lawrence says.

“It won't convince me to stay, but it would go a long way with my opinion of y'all if you could help with Big D's legal fees on the shooting.”

“D's girlfriend has reached out to us on that. As you know, we can't officially contribute, because Epsilon has decided it would be best for us to not get any more involved in this criminal mess than we already are.”

“He shot the villains.”

“Yes, but right now the courts are trying to prove who fired first.”

I was just asking to see what Lawrence would say. I knew his lame self wasn't trying to help Big D. We've got him covered on his legal fees. Between me and Sam, we're going to make sure he's got the best legal counsel money can buy.

“Even though I can't help Big D as an agent of Epsilon records, I can see what I can do as his friend. Tell him not to worry.”

I'll believe this help when I see it. Big D trusted Lawrence once before and it all ended up in a gunfight that almost got me killed.

I stand up from the table, and Sam does the same. “I guess we're done here.”

I walk around the table and shake both Lawrence's and Caterina's hands. The gesture seems so final, but I don't have a problem at all with finality. I see something in Lawrence's eyes that looks like hope. But he should know that artists are a dime a dozen. He might not find another like me, because I am definitely unique, but he'll find someone else to keep that money flowing in. Of that much, I'm sure.

As Sam and I walk down the New York City street, I feel a freedom that I haven't felt in the past year. Even though I've still got finals ahead of me and another five years of school left, my burden is so much lighter now.

“You want to take a subway ride?” Sam asks.

I laugh out loud. “So now you want to be a tour guide, huh?”

“Not really, but there's one place I really want you to see.”

My eyes widen with delight. “Is it a soul food restaurant? I've heard that there is some really good food to be had around here. How about a Jamaican restaurant?”

“You know what, I'm in a little bit too much pain for a subway ride. Let's take a cab where we're going.”

A huge smile bursts onto my face when we get out of the cab and I see we're at the New York Aquarium. “The aquarium? Good choice Sam! This is the place I want to see!”

We get out of the cab and Sam pays the fare and a tip. It takes him a while to get to the other side of the car on his cane, but he does finally.

“Are you gonna be okay to walk around?” I ask.

“When I need a break, I'll ask you to stop, Sunday.”

We go inside and start to look at the exhibits. Looking at the fish with Sam takes me back to the early days of our relationship when Sam and I would visit the Atlanta aquarium. It was before the fame, the fortune, the infamy, and the shootings. It was when I was a regular teenager on the come up. A time I long for, a time that I miss.

When we get to the tropical fish exhibit, Sam clears his breath. He wants to sit down on the leather bench in front of the biggest tank, and so I sit next to him.

“You in pain?” I ask.

“No. Just tired. Walking on this cane takes a lot of energy out of me.”

“How long did the doctor say you'd be on it?”

“Just a few weeks.”

I kiss Sam's lips and smile at him. “What was that for?” he asks.

“You got hurt trying to save me. You didn't even know you were hurt until after.”

Sam reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box. “For you.”

“What is this?”

“Open it!” Sam says with a laugh.

I open the box and inside lies a key. It's not a jewelry key, or a car key. It just looks like a regular key to someone's home.

“What is this the key to?” I ask.

“My new condo, in Atlanta.”

Now I'm confused. “But Sam, I have my own house. I'm not moving in with you.”

“I know. But I want you to know you can come in any time of the day or night. You don't have to call. You can just show up.”

“But why would you want me to do that?”

“I want you to trust me. I'm opening my home to you, just like I've opened my heart. I'm wide open, Sunday, and I want you to know how much you've got me in the palm of your hand.”

Sam closes my hand around the key and then he squeezes tight. “Let's never break up again,” I say.

“I don't ever want to, Sunday. If your mother wouldn't totally take my head off, I'd marry you today and start filling up the world with little musical babies.”

“And you're sure I'd say yes?” I ask teasingly.

“I'm sure.”

“You'd want me even if I'm not a pop star anymore?”

Sam smiles again and traces a finger down my face. “You didn't know? You're always gonna be a star to me. You're the biggest star in my universe.”

I give Sam a smile that starts from the inside and emanates out. I feel myself shining brightly once again, but this time it has nothing to do with a number-one record, platinum sales, or hot lyrics wrapped around a tight beat. It's because I'm loved and I love someone back. And no one can take this shine away from me.

“You think anyone will be mad that you walked away from the industry?” Sam asks.

“If they are, they can get over it. I don't live for them. My dreams aren't for anybody but me!”

I think if Dr. Brooks, the dean at Spelman, could see me right now, she'd be exceptionally proud. I sound just like that free-thinking woman that all my Spelman sisters are striving to be. Free to live, free to learn, and most definitely free to love.