Authors: Nikki Carter
Time to Shine (12 page)
I spin on one very high and pointy heel, and this time I make it to the exit with no further interruptions. I don't know if Sam is in shock or if he's given up, but it doesn't matter which, as long as he leaves me alone with my thoughts.
I emerge from the press room to another backstage area. Mystique is back hereâwaiting to present an award with Zac. She holds out both arms and squeezes her hands in a hugging gesture. I walk into her embrace and return it with one of my own.
“You should've gotten Best New Artist too, but I think they frown upon giving multiple Grammy wins to someone so freshly in the business. It's almost like someone doesn't think you've finished paying your dues.” Mystique says this in such a nonchalant manner that you'd think she just said, “I made you some grilled cheese.”
“It's all right. I'll take the one win! I'm thrilled about it, dues or no dues.”
Zac smiles and hugs me too. “You and Sam are brilliant. It was only a matter of time before someone recognized it.”
“I saw it from day one!” Mystique says. “They're going to be in the business for a long time, Zac, probably even after we retire.”
“I'm never retiring. I'll be a hundred years old, wearing some jeans and sneakers and holding a mic in my hand. And I'll take out every emcee in my path, just like I was twenty-five years old.” Zac throws his head back and cackles at his own comment, like the very thought of his retirement tickles him.
Mystique shakes her head. “Anyway. Congratulations, girl. Are you going to the Epsilon Records after-party?”
I nod my head. “Of course.”
“Good. Then, we'll toast your success later on.”
Unfortunately, I've been made to feel that the Epsilon Records after-Grammy party is mandatory, and that I really don't have any other choice but to attend. I'd much rather be back on campus finishing my paper!
Zac says, “You and Sam looked good together on stage. You need to go ahead and drop that lame and get back with my homeboy.”
“DeShawn is not a lame.”
“Dude is a male video vixen. Do you see any rappers bringing the chicks from their videos on the red carpet? That's not a good look for you, Sunday. Step your game up.”
And by stepping my game up does he mean that I should ham it up on the red carpet with my cheating, weed smoking ex-boyfriend? That's a good look?
“DeShawn is cool people, but I expect you to defend your homeboy,” I say. “Maybe next time you'll pull his collar before he cheats on his girlfriend.”
“Sam's his own man.”
And obviously, I'm my own woman. At some point, these men trying to run my life are going to recognize it.
“See y'all at the party!” I say with a dismissive wave of my hand.
12
T
he Epsilon Records Grammy after-party is crunk as what! So crunk that I stop wishing I was back at the dorm doing homework as soon as I step inside. They really pulled out all the stops on this one. It makes their American Music Awards party look like a straight-up fail.
he Epsilon Records Grammy after-party is crunk as what! So crunk that I stop wishing I was back at the dorm doing homework as soon as I step inside. They really pulled out all the stops on this one. It makes their American Music Awards party look like a straight-up fail.
“Dance with me!” Dreya squeals as she pulls me away from DeShawn. She's in a good mood, and clearly that mood is induced by whatever alcoholic beverage she has in her hand.
I follow Dreya to the middle of the packed dance floor. The song playing is a rock track off of one of Epsilon's Grammy winners. Dreya closes her eyes and sways to the music, and I do the same except I keep my eyes open and scan the room.
Everyone from the Reign Records crew is in the house. It looks like DeShawn and I were the last to arrive, but I stayed after the show and signed autographs outside the Shrine Auditorium with Mystique. She said that loyal fans were made by doing things like that and not by showing up at parties.
I check out Big D and Shelly as they sit at a booth in the corner. Big D looks uncomfortable squeezing his massive belly into the small space, but Shelly looks downright evil. Her arms are folded across her chest and her lips are poked out.
“What's wrong with Shelly?” I ask Dreya over the loud, bumping music.
“I don't know,” Dreya says in a slur. “Big D prolly did what he always doesâholla at some random chick. Shelly's stupid for staying with him.”
“I have no idea why she puts up with him.”
Dreya laughs. “Really, you have no idea. Girl, bye. It's about the dollar bills.”
“I guess you would know, huh.”
“I ain't even in that category, playa. Evan is fine, he's rich, and he works out.”
Dreya takes another swig off her beverage, closes her eyes again, and goes back to dancing. She looks like she's having a good time, but I wonder how many girls Evan has hit on this evening.
The song finishes and another one starts, this time one of Zac the Zillionaire's cuts. Since Dreya's eyes are still closed as she drops down low and sweeps the floor with her behind, I leave her to her dancing.
I narrow my eyes and look around the room at the small clusters of people next to the bar, and then at the larger groups seated at and on tables. Finally, I see who I'm looking forâDeShawn.
He's holding up the wall and gazing in my direction. When he sees me looking at him he smiles and waves. He's still wearing his tuxedo, but he's taken off his bow tie, and has unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. He looks like the cover of a magazine, but then he always does. He's perfect. Too perfect. But tonight, he's all that I'm working with. I start to walk toward him, but he rushes to meet me.
“You a'ight?” DeShawn asks as he leads me to the dance floor.
I nod. “Dreya is intoxicated. She was getting on my nerves.”
“No one told her that underage drinking is bad?”
I laugh. “No, DeShawn. She was absent that day of school. Or maybe she was cutting class.”
“At least she isn't driving.”
“You sure know how to look on the bright side, DeShawn. I soooo love that about you.”
He takes one of my hands and spins me around. “Dance with me, Sunday! Stop being so serious.”
“Can we go?” I ask DeShawn.
“Yeah, but where are we going?”
I shrug. “Let's catch a cab to Roscoe's and get some chicken and waffles. I'm so over this.”
“You want to tell anyone we're leaving?” DeShawn asks.
I shake my head. “No. I'm grown. I don't answer to any of them.”
DeShawn bites his lip in thought. “I think it would be better if we mention it to someone. Big D, maybe? Just in case something happens. . . .”
“Tell whoever you want. I'll be by the door and ready to go.”
I storm off the dance floor and for a split second I think of leaving DeShawn too. I don't want to tell Big D anything.
Right before my escape, DeShawn jogs back over to me. “Okay, girl, let's go get our grub on.”
I say nothing as I let DeShawn open the door to the club, and talk to a limo driver out front.
“I said let's get a cab,” I fuss.
DeShawn says, “This is easier and free.”
“Yeah, and as soon as we pull up, the paparazzi are gonna start snapping pictures. Let's be a little bit more low key than that.”
DeShawn sighs, and talks to the limo driver again. Then he turns back to me and says, “The limo driver says that the paparazzi are out tonight anyway because of the Grammys. He says you don't want to get snapped stepping out of a cab.”
I shake my head and climb into the limo, since apparently DeShawn is gonna run this into the ground. I just want some fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, and a waffle. Maybe some greens too. I keep hearing about this Roscoe's place, so I need to stack it up against Busy Bee's in Atlanta.
“Let's go!” I yell out the window while DeShawn is still talking to the driver. “I'm hungry!”
DeShawn climbs into the limo and slides over so that he's next to me. “You are sure impatient tonight, Sunday. You up here barking orders and stuff like you're a diva or something.”
“I just have to get away from them, DeShawn! They are driving me bonkers, and I haven't had anything good to eat lately. Mystique has had me eating nasty little sour pieces of lettuce, and I need some soul food.”
“My mother says you can fix the world's problems with good food.”
I nod emphatically. “Your mother is right.”
“What are you tripping on?” DeShawn asks.
“I don't know. Well, Sam got on my nerves tonight at the show. That âshe's my muse' crap was so played out, and not even fair. Now, to the world, he looks like the sweet and romantic boyfriend that I totally dissed. When I know the truth! He's the wretched and lying ex-boyfriend. He's the cheating and weed-smoking ex-boyfriend.”
“And you show up on the red carpet with the dude from your video. Looks like you played him.”
“Exactly. I so want to call up Jamie Foster Brown and do an interview with
Sister 2 Sister
magazine. She always has the real story.”
Sister 2 Sister
magazine. She always has the real story.”
“What would you say about your breakup? Would you put him out there like that? Would you give Jamie the whole scoop?”
“Good question. And I don't know the answer. It would depend on the day, I guess. Like right now, I would so put him on blast. But tomorrow, I might feel differently.”
DeShawn nods his head thoughtfully. “So does he still have a chance? Like you're off him right now, but tomorrow you might feel differently?”
I feel DeShawn heading down a path where he's going to end up getting his feelings hurt.
“Man . . . I don't like being played. That won't change tomorrow, or the day after that.”
“Okay, I hear you.”
The limo driver pulls up in front of the restaurant and lets us out. I'd heard that if you came to this restaurant during their busy times that you have to stand in line. Luckily it's near midnight, so there's not much traffic.
DeShawn says to the limo driver, “Wait here. We should be about an hour.”
“You want me to bring you some takeout?” I ask.
The limo driver smiles. “Yes, I would. The fried chicken breast, greens, macaroni and cheese, and candied yams.”
“You about to eat all that this late at night?” I ask.
The limo driver nods. “I sure am!”
“That's what's up!” I give him a fist bump on the way into the restaurant.
After we've been seated and placed our orders, DeShawn stares at me and chuckles.
“What is so funny?” I ask.
“You don't see how cool you are, Sunday. I don't know any other Grammy-award-winning R and B divas that would bring the limo driver dinner.”
I laugh out loud. “You don't know any other Grammy-award-winning R and B divas at all!”
“Not true! I know Mystique, and she definitely wouldn't take the limo driver's order. She wouldn't care whether he ate or not.”
I consider this and decide that I agree with DeShawn. Not only would Mystique not care about getting the driver food, but she'd want to know what nerve he had getting hungry on the job. She'd be mad if she heard his stomach growl. It would probably wreck her flow.
“Well, I guess that's just who I am. My mom says that everyone is important and that God is no respecter of persons. That's like her favorite scripture.”
DeShawn says, “I agree with your mother.”
“So what's your major, DeShawn? What are you going to do when we graduate from college?”
He shrugs. “I'm pursuing a dual major in political science and journalism. I'm thinking I can be one of those analysts on CNN.”
“Wow. I had no idea.”
“What, did you think I wanted to be an actor or something?”
I cover my mouth to stifle my laugh. “Yeah, I kinda did. I thought you were going to go from videos to movies and then make your home in Hollywood.”
“You sound like you've got my career all planned out!”
“Okay, but I was totally and incredibly wrong. You want to be a news correspondent, not star in Tyler Perry movies!”
We burst into laughter that doesn't die easily. When one of us tries to stop, the other renews the flurry of giggles. We're still cracking up when our food finally arrives, but as soon as that crispy golden fried chicken and yummy thin and perfect waffle are in front of me, all laughter ceases.
“Are you going to eat all of that?” DeShawn asks.
I nod while trying to manage a huge mouthful of food. “I'm gonna dang sure try,” I say after I swallow.
“That's just greedy.”
“Have you tasted this? It'll give you a case of food lust that you wouldn't believe.”
I grab DeShawn's fork and put a bit of waffle and chicken on it. Then I feed him the yummy morsel. He closes his eyes and moans.
“That was delicious,” DeShawn says. “Do you want some of my macaroni and cheese? My greens are good too.”
I don't wait for DeShawn to ask me again before digging into his plate and scooping up a forkful of food. It doesn't make any sense how delicious this is! I didn't expect it to come close to the Busy Bee Café, but they are certainly equals in my mind. Now I have East Coast and West Coast locations to indulge my greediness.
A pre-teenage girl has walked up to our table, and stands there with a notepad and pen in her hand. “Can I have your autograph?” she asks with a smile.
“She's eating,” DeShawn says. “She'll do it before she leaves.”
I narrow my eyes at DeShawn and take the girl's notepad. “Of course, I will give you an autograph. Did you watch the Grammys?”
The girl nods and grins. “I did! Congratulations on your award. You should've won the Best New Artist one too.”
“Everybody keeps saying that! But I'm happy with the one I got. What's your name?”
“Aaliyah.”
“Spelled like the singer?”
“Yes. She was my mom's favorite.”
“My mom's too!”
I sign Aaliyah's notepad and then hand it back to her. “There you go.”
“Thank you so much! Can I ask you a question?”
I nod. “Sure!”
“Who is this guy? Is he your bodyguard or something? Isn't Sam your boyfriend?”
DeShawn and I burst into laughter. “He is my bodyguard for the night, but mostly he's my friend,” I say.
“Well, all of my friends love you and Sam! We watched the reality show where y'all fell in love. Will you tell him that Aaliyah from Los Angeles said hi?”
“I sure will. Thank you so much for your support.”
“We love you, Sunday!” Aaliyah says, and all of her friends wave from their table.
“Love you more!”
Aaliyah walks or rather floats back across the room to her group of friends. DeShawn stares at me with a curious look on his face.
“What?” I ask.
“You didn't have to sign that right then. Next time you may not feel like it, and then people will say you don't appreciate your fans,” DeShawn says.
“I do appreciate my fans, so that won't happen. If they want to line up around the block asking me to sign stuff, I'll do it. It's because of them that I'm a millionaire.”
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