Not A Good Look (6 page)

“E
psilon Records wants to sign Drama to a three-record deal,” Big D announces.

The room is silent for a moment. Sam, Truth, Dreya, and I are all in Big D's lounge with Shelly doing her usual chill move off in the corner. Big D grins at all of us, like he's waiting for someone to say something.

Truth jumps up and hugs Dreya. “That's what's up!”

“I thought they were gonna wait for Truth's single to drop first,” Sam says.

“They were, but after we leaked the track, there were over a hundred thousand downloads on iTunes,” Big D explains.

“I didn't know it was on iTunes!” Truth says.

Big D holds the sides of his extra large stomach and laughs. “Come on, now. You didn't think I was gonna leak a track and not make it available for purchase, did you?”

“You're a genius, man,” Truth says. “Sorry I doubted you.”

Truth then shocks the dummy out of me by kissing Big D on the cheek. What in the…?

“It's a sign of respect,” Sam says to me. “I see you looking twisted.”

“I'm not looking like anything! I don't care who Truth kisses. Dreya might, but I don't.”

This causes everyone to burst into laughter.

“Sunday, you're a real chick, you know that?” Truth asks.

Big D strokes his dark beard and continues. “I called y'all here because Epsilon wants to send Drama on the promotional tour with Truth. She'll open up the show for him.”

“I don't even have a single out, though,” Dreya says. “I thought I was just going on tour as Truth's girl.”

Big D laughs out loud. “The record company doesn't pay travel for wifeys, baby girl. Especially for artists who haven't even blown up yet.”

“What cities are we going to?” Truth asks.

“Atlanta, Chicago, Detroit, Charlotte, Birmingham, Orlando, Boston, and then to New York to be a part of a new artist showcase on
106 & Park.
”

“We're gonna be on BET?” Dreya squeals.

“Yeah. You're gonna perform Truth's single, though. Nothing from your album. He was already booked, so this is Epsilon getting more bang for their buck.”

This is all good news for Dreya, but I'm wondering why I'm here. “Congrats, y'all,” I say, “but what's this got to do with me?”

Big D rubs his hands together. “Well, I went by your house to get Drama's mother to sign the contract and it was all bad.”

Sidebar. It's totally iggin' me that Big D refuses to call Dreya by her real name. She's not on stage right now! And all of this is happening too quickly. We only met Big D a few days ago and now he's got Dreya a record deal. Internal alarms are going off in my head, but I tell them to be quiet because we're about to blow up!

“What do you mean, all bad?” Dreya asks. “She didn't sign?”

“She doesn't trust me; thinks I'm a drug dealer,” Big D says.

“Still trying to figure out how I fit into this picture,” I say.

“I suspect that you're the responsible one between you and Drama, so I need you to convince your aunt to sign the contract,” Big D says.

“Once Aunt Charlie makes up her mind about something, it's pretty much a wrap.”

Dreya says, “She's just paranoid because of what happened to Carlos! I can't believe she's gonna try to block my deal. I'll forge her signature if I have to.”

“No, sweetheart. Epsilon does not roll like that,” Big D replies. “They'll ice your career completely if you try to pull some stuff like that and your mama tries to press charges or sue.”

“I don't know if this has anything to do with Carlos,” I say. “I think it has more to do with you moving over here without asking permission.”

Big D frowns. “You said your mother was cool with that.”

“She is cool. Shut up, Sunday.” Dreya shoots me a look that could kill.

“And what's the deal with Carlos? Who is he? What's that about?” Big D asks.

My lips are sealed. It's not my place to tell Big D my mother's business. Plus, I don't think he needs to know that.

Too bad me and Dreya are not on the same page.

She blurts, “Carlos is Sunday's mother's boyfriend. He just got shot by them thugs that own Club Pyramids in Decatur.”

“I host parties there,” Big D says. “Do y'all know what the beef was? Maybe I can help.”

Everyone looks at me. I sigh and spill an abbreviated version of the story. “He was trying to buy into the club. His baby mother's brother is one of the owners. Something popped off—I don't know why—but he ended up shot. Now he's missing.”

I don't tell Big D about Carlos losing my college tuition. It seems like that might be too much information for him right now. I can't have him knowing how desperately I need money. Desperation is not a good look at all.

“Oh, yeah. I heard something about that,” Big D replies. “That's kinda sticky right there, so I don't wanna touch it.”

“Good, because my mother would trip that I'm even telling you this,” I say.

“How about if you go on tour with us?” Big D says. “Do you think that will change her mind?”

“I've got school,” I respond. “I can't. I'm about to send in my application to Spelman. I can't take off.”

“You'd only miss a couple of days. It starts the weekend before Thanksgiving, and goes through the following weekend.”

“We're playing big venues in the middle of the week?” Truth asks.

Big D laughs. “Y'all are doing malls and teen clubs. You aren't big-venue status yet. We wouldn't sell any tickets.”

“You said we sold a hundred thousand downloads of my single. That's not big-time?” Truth asks.

“Soon, but not yet. That's one single. People won't buy a concert ticket for one single.”

I ask, “What am I going to tell my mother and aunt that I'll be doing on the tour? I don't have a record deal.”

“Epsilon Records will pay for Drama to have an assistant on the road. You'll get a check, and you get to kick it to all the parties.”

“I'll be Dreya's
assistant?
” I don't like the sound of this at all.

“Yeah, you'll get Drama's food and beverages, help her in the dressing room and all that.”

I'm tripping. “She's not a star. Why does she need an assistant, Big D?”

“Apparently Epsilon Records thinks so. They heard the vocals on that CD and are trying to make her the next Keyshia Cole.”

Sam clears his throat. “They heard Sunday's vocals mostly.”

“Mostly nothing!” Dreya fusses. “She did a few ad-libs and runs. That's nothing.”

Big D lifts an eyebrow. “Drama's the one with the look and the swagger to put us on the map. She's the one who's gonna blow up Truth's single. Y'all know the kids be on the hooks. They don't care 'bout no lyrics, or vocals even. Then, once all the girls see Truth on stage in his wifebeater and saggin' jeans, it's on and poppin'. Instant celebrity status.”

Big D sure likes to paint a mental picture. It's just that I don't see myself anywhere in that little celebrity fantasy.

“So you think if I tell my auntie and my mother that I'm going on tour with y'all that they'll be cool with it?” I ask.

“I think so.”

“How much is this check gonna be? Being this chick's assistant isn't gonna be easy.”

Big D laughs again. “How's seven hundred for the whole tour sound?”

“Seven hundred? Man, please. That's a drop in my bucket.”

“Well, you can't make more than the headliners, and they're only getting two thousand apiece for six shows.”

“I don't know if that's worth the trouble.”

Big D says, “Think about it. The summer after Drama's album drops, Epsilon is planning to do a real tour. They're already working on getting sponsors lined up. I'm talking twenty cities, and you get to roll.”

“How much will I make then?”

“Thousands. But it all hinges on Drama's mother signing this record deal.”

“Is Sam going on tour, too?” I ask, not wanting to do this thing alone.

“Awww…she wants her boo to come on the road, too,” Truth teases.

Sam blushes and Big D has a really good gut laugh. “It's cool, Sunday. Sam is one of my engineers. Your man will be there.”

I decide it's in my best interest not to argue here. I'm sure anything I say will only make us even more embarrassed. But I wish Sam would wipe that stupid grin off his face. He's not my man. Not yet anyway.

“I don't want her making thousands off my tour,” Dreya says. “I turn eighteen in April. Why can't Epsilon Records wait until then?”

“You gotta strike while the iron is hot in this business. By the time April rolls by, they'll be on to the next new starlet. This might be your one shot.”

So everybody's looking at me again, like all of this hangs on my head. The tour is after my college application deadline, so it won't interfere with that. And I guess if I ask my teachers I can get my classwork turned in early. Sometimes being a teacher's pet can come in handy.

“Okay, I'll ask my mother and my auntie. But I'm not making any promises.”

Dreya says, “I'm going with you. I'm not leaving my career up to your hating self.”

“You've already messed it up enough, Ms. Drama. Fall back and let your cousin do her thing,” Big D advises.

“Yeah, and anyway, why would I do that? You make money, I make money. Don't forget that me and my man here wrote all the songs on your little release. I'm trying to blow up just like you.”

“Thank you for claiming me,” Sam says.

Everyone bursts into laughter, including me this time. But while everyone is so jolly, I'm not so sure I'm persuasive enough to convince my mother and Aunt Charlie of anything.

Maybe we should pray now, laugh later.

I
've been waiting all evening, ever since Sam dropped me off from the studio, to bring up the subject of Dreya's contract to Aunt Charlie and ask my mother about going on tour, but they are in an uproar. My mother's been crying nonstop ever since she found out that Carlos is missing. And Aunt Charlie's been cussing and fussing about Big D.

“Have you heard from Dreya?” Aunt Charlie asks me. “She doesn't call me, like she's grown or something. I'm gonna call the police to go over there and charge Big D with kidnapping. He's probably got her hooked on drugs or something like that.”

Here's my opening. “Big D is not like that, Auntie. He's legit, for real. He's got a state-of-the-art studio and everything. He's got a bunch of artists on his label.”

“Yeah, he told me about Big D in the A Records, or whatever he calls it. I'm not feelin' it.”

“He got Dreya a record deal, Auntie. With Epsilon Records.”

“So what? I ain't never heard of no Epsilon Records! What's that supposed to mean to me?”

“Have you heard of Mystique?”

Aunt Charlie smiles, stands to her feet, and starts doing a little booty shake. “Yeah, baby. That's the girl that sings, ‘My name is wifey, my name is wifey, my name is w-w-w-wifey.'”

She would pick Mystique's most terrible song. The video is even worse. She's dressed in a tuxedo and a bridal gown and marrying herself. It's insane, I tell you, but Mystique is a platinum-selling artist, so what do I know.

“Yes, Aunt Charlie. That's the one. She's signed to Epsilon Records.”

“For real? Dreya's gonna be on BET?”

“Yes, but her stage name is Drama.”

Aunt Charlie slaps her leg and laughs. “We 'bout to get paid? Is that what you telling me, Sunday?”

“We will if you sign the contract. They're not going to wait around for Dreya to turn eighteen.”

Aunt Charlie holds her hand out. “Give me this contract. Let me read it.”

I hand her the stack of papers from the table. “It's really pretty standard. They want to sign her to a three-record deal. She'll make two percent off the record sales, but make the most money off her tour.”

“And how do you know it's pretty standard, smarty-pants?”

“Because my mom bought me
Everything You Need to Know About the Music Business
. It's all good, Auntie.”

I watch as Aunt Charlie's eyes skim the document. She doesn't really know anything about the legal wording used on the contract, but she's reading every page anyway.

“The contract sounds like a good idea, but I don't think I like her living over there, though,” Aunt Charlie says. “Tell her I'll sign it if she moves back home.”

I bite my lip slowly, trying to think of a rebuttal. Dreya has no intention of moving back here, and I don't know how to convince her.

“At least until she turns eighteen,” Aunt Charlie adds. “Then she can do whatever she wants. I just want to make sure my child is safe.”

I nod and dial Big D on my cell phone. I think Aunt Charlie's request is reasonable and I know that he'll agree.

“Big D here.”

“Hey, Big D, this is Sunday.”

“My miniature hustla. What's up, baby girl?”

“Dreya's contract.”

Big D clears his throat. “Break it down for me.”

“Well, my aunt says she'll sign it on one condition.”

“She wants more money?” Big D asks. “Because that's not doable. Epsilon Records is firm in that offer.”

“Slow down! It's not money,” I reply.

“Then what is it?”

“She wants Dreya to move back home. She doesn't like her living over there with you.”

Aunt Charlie crosses her arms and nods in agreement. My mother even takes a break from sobbing to listen to the conversation. She gets up from the table and stands behind Aunt Charlie.

“Oh, is that all?” Big D asks. “Drama is on her way back to the house.”

“You haven't even said anything to her yet!” I say. “What if she won't come back home?”

Big D replies, “Like I said, Sunday, she's on her way home. Please give your aunt my apologies for the whole situation. I would've never let her come if I'd known she didn't have permission.”

“Why don't you come over and tell them yourself? I think my mother wants to meet and talk to you, too.”

Big D takes a long pause before replying. “Are your mother and aunt listening to you on the phone now?” he asks.

“Yes, they are.”

He sends an audible sigh over the phone. “Okay, Drama and I are on our way.”

“Good! See you when you get here.”

I press End on the phone and Aunt Charlie asks, “So?”

“He's bringing Dreya home.”

 

Dreya storms into the house like a hurricane hitting the Gulf Coast. She doesn't speak to anyone; just goes straight to our bedroom. And Big D is looking too stressed, as if Dreya lived up to her stage name on the way over. Drama is what Drama does.

Big D extends his hand for Aunt Charlie to shake. “Good evening, ma'am. I'm Deionte Silver, also known as Big D around Atlanta.”

Deionte? Wow. I didn't know that was Big D's name. That is such an ungangsta kind of name. It makes me look at him in a totally different light. Like for real, Deionte sounds like someone's grandchild's name. Can't you imagine a grandmama saying,
Deionte, baby, get over here and give your grandmama some sugar?

Aunt Charlie does not shake his hand. She looks him up and down and asks, “How much drugs have you sold to get this little music thing off the ground?”

Did someone say that this was a good idea to have the two of them meet? Oh, that was me? Well, then I totally take that back. Bad idea.

“Actually, ma'am, I've never sold any drugs.”

“Well, then where'd you get the money to do all these tours and photo shoots and other mess? And how old are you, anyway? You don't seem old enough to be
the man
all like that.”

Big D calmly replies, “Ma'am, I'm twenty-eight years old. I started planning parties my freshman year of college. I invited celebrities to come to my parties, advertised them, and split the money with the club owners. It was actually a good way for a student to make money.”

“Where did you go to school?” my mother asks.

“Georgia Tech, ma'am. Played football, but I blew out my knee junior year.”

“Well, if it was so easy, why didn't the club owners just do it themselves? Why'd they need you?” Aunt Charlie is not easily convinced and neither is my mother. I hope Big D came with his A game tonight.

“The clubs I worked with were owned by rich, older men who don't know what kids like. I made their clubs hot with my charisma and contacts, so it was all love.”

“So you purchased a recording studio with the money you made throwing parties?” my mother asks. “I'm in the wrong business.”

Big D flashes her a smile. “It's actually harder than it sounds, but yes, pretty much.”

“So what makes you and this record company think Dreya is ready for the spotlight?” Aunt Charlie asks.

“She's good, and kids have already started downloading a song with her vocals on it.”

“What song?” my mother asks. “And why was there no contract done for that? How much money did she receive?”

Big D responds, “The song is called ‘What Ya Gonna Do,' and she sings the chorus. She received five hundred dollars for her work.”

“That's all? What about royalties?” Aunt Charlie asks.

“It's called a work-for-hire agreement, and she won't receive royalties on that particular song, but she will off her album. Sunday and another guy named Sam wrote the songs for the album. Your daughters are very talented.”

My mother looks at me. “Sunday, you didn't tell me you were writing music for this man. Where's your contract? And I thought y'all were a singing group. How is it that Dreya is the only one with a record deal? What about Bethany? And where's the money you got?”

“My money is in the bank, Mom. I opened a student account. You can call it my college fund.”

My mother looks at the floor guiltily, but I don't take it back. I know she's not about to knock my hustle when my college fund just went up in smoke.

“These girls are minors,” Aunt Charlie says. “All this under-the-table dealing is not cool. Somebody needs to do a better job of breaking this down for me.”

I look at Big D and politely give him the floor. He explains all of this much better than I do, and he's got a way of speaking that will convince anyone. By the time he's done, he'll have my aunt and my mother buying swampland in Florida if he's selling it.

While he's talking, I wander back to my bedroom to make sure Dreya isn't destroying anything of mine. She's madder than a dog chained up one inch away from the mail carrier. Plus she gave me a really heated glare on her way into the house.

Dreya is sprawled across her bed when I open the door. She still looks angry, but I can't see that anything in my room has been trashed. That's a good thing for her, because I'm so not in the mood for delivering a beat-down.

“What?” she asks.

“Who said I wanted anything? Maybe I'm just coming back to my room to chill.”

“I thought you and Big D were partners. Why don't you go up there and help get my record deal signed?”

“Are you for real? Big D asked me to soften up Aunt Charlie. You ought to be happy I did it!”

“I guess.”

I sit down on the edge of my bed and stare at Dreya. She truly looks upset. “Are you mad that you can't stay over there at Big D's house with Truth?”

“It's not fair.”

I want to tell her she sounds like Manny when he can't eat cookies before dinner. She even looks like him, with her eyebrows furrowed and her bottom lip poked out. This is soooo not the look of a diva right now.

“Dreya, suck it up. You're about to go on tour and get a record deal. Just be grateful for all this stuff that's happening to you. Lord knows you didn't do anything to deserve it.”

Dreya sits up in the bed and narrows her eyes. “What do you mean, I don't deserve it?”

I know she didn't just ask me that. Time for a reality check, Sunday smackdown–style.

“Let me see. You're mean, hateful, disrespectful, and oh, your attitude stinks like a sack of dirty diapers.”

“You're just jealous! You think it should be you with the record deal.”

I shrug. “I'll get my own shot. And you better believe I won't blow it by throwing tantrums like a two-year-old.”

Dreya narrows her eyes and jumps up from the bed. She storms back up to the front of our house with me behind her. I don't know what she's planning to do, but it can't be anything good.

“I don't want Sunday going on tour with me!” she announces. “She's a hater and her negativity ruins my creativity.”

Big D looks at Dreya and bursts into laughter. Dreya frowns. But when my mother and aunt join in on the laugh fest, Dreya fumes.

“Sunday is part of the package, Dreya,” Aunt Charlie says. “You're not going anywhere without her, since you've proven that I can't trust you.”

“What if I refuse to have her?” Dreya asks.

“Then this contract is going right in my paper shredder,” Aunt Charlie says. “Don't try to play me.”

Dreya balls both of her hands into fists, goes out the front door, and slams it.

“It's okay. She'll be back,” my mother says.

“I know it,” Big D says. “I've got a signed contract that says she will.”

I don't know about my aunt and my mom, but a chill just ran up my spine. Dreya not wanting me to go on tour with her could definitely make my life complicated. So is all this really a come-up for me or is there drama on the next track?