Doing My Own Thing (8 page)

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Authors: Nikki Carter

BOOK: Doing My Own Thing
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10
“M
om, I've got something to tell you, and I think you should sit down.”
My mother looks at me with narrowed eyes, and puts her hand on her hip. “Sunday, don't play games with me. What's going on? Are you pregnant?”
“What! Where did that come from? Mom, for real. This is important, and no, I'm not pregnant. I don't have a boyfriend and I'm not having sex.”
My mother still gives me a suspicious stare-down as she sits on the couch in our living room. I had to wait all day until Aunt Charlie and Manny decided to go to the grocery store. It's always funny when Aunt Charlie comes home from the grocery store. She shops like a two-year-old. There's usually hot dogs, bologna, bread, cereal, milk, and soda. That's all. Not a vegetable in sight. As a matter of fact, I don't think Manny would know what a fruit or a vegetable was if he wasn't living over here with us.
I know, total sidebar. But I'm stalling here. Don't really know how to tell my mother about my dad showing up. I don't know how she's gonna take it.
“Well, what's going on, Sunday? I've got laundry to finish up, girl! And then I'm going to the movies with your aunt this evening.”
“Who is keeping Manny? I've got to go to the studio for a meeting.”
“He's going to have a sleepover with his big sister. A meeting about what?”
I unleash a big sigh. “That's what I've been trying to tell you.”
“Okay, I'm sorry. Go ahead.”
“My father wants to manage my career.”
There. I got it out. As crazy as it sounds, I've said it. And now, I'm watching my mother's face contort into some sort of zombie face.
“Your daddy? You talked to your daddy?”
I shake my head. “He went to Big D, and told him he wants to be a part of the decision-making team on my career.”
“I don't believe this. How did Jonah even know to contact Big D?”
“It has something to do with Bryce and LaKeisha. He's in some kind of business with them, I guess.”
My mom lets out a long sigh. “Yeah, I heard he was fooling with them the last time he got out of jail. I was just hoping that he wouldn't come around us.”
“Wait. You were hoping he wouldn't come around? I mean, I know you don't like him, but I haven't seen him in a long time. Shoot, pretty soon I'm gonna forget what he looks like.”
“Sunday . . . your daddy . . . girl . . . you know I've never talked bad to you about your daddy.”
“No, you never have, but I know he goes back and forth to jail. That can't be good.”
“He did one good thing for me,” my mother says. “He gave me you. I should've known he was gonna show up once your music career took off.”
“What should I tell him?”
“Baby, I know you're used to me having all the answers, but I don't know what to say on this one. It's your decision.”
I swallow hard. “But do you think I should let him help with my career?”
Long, long pause from my mom. I know that she doesn't like to say anything bad about my father to me. I get that. She doesn't want me to be jaded about men and all that. But I need her to help me on this one.
“I haven't seen your father for a long time, Sunday. Maybe he's changed. I don't know. You judge for yourself after you talk to him.”
“Why does this all have to be happening right before my trip to Barbados? If this doesn't turn out right, it might ruin my trip.”
She says, “I know, honey. But you leave for Barbados in a couple of days, so maybe it will go well and you won't have anything to worry about.”
“That's all you're gonna say, Mom?”
“That's all I've got, Sunday. You let me know what you think, okay? We'll talk about it later.”
My mom gets up from the couch, walks over to me, and gives me a big hug. I know she's got my back in this, even if she won't give her opinion.
I guess this is just something I've got to do on my own.
11
S
o I agreed to meet my father at the studio, although I couldn't bring myself to call him and set it up. He'd left his cell phone number with Big D, but I just couldn't call. I thought that if I heard his voice on the phone that I'd probably change my mind about the meeting. I had Big D call and set everything up.
My mom's words keep ringing in my head.
Maybe he's changed.
What if he has changed? That would be great, but I don't know if that means I should let him be a part of my career. I'm thinking he's gonna have to work his way back up to that status. And what if he doesn't show up? I don't know how I would feel about that.
Shelly's going to cook us some dinner, and she and Big D are going to be close by, but in another room, in case I need them.
Big D sits down next to me on the leather couch in the TV room. “You sure you want to do this alone? Maybe your mother should be here with you.”
“Nah, she didn't want to come. She wanted me to make up my own mind.”
“You seem nervous, Sunday. You're playing with your hands, biting your nails. Chill a little bit.”
“You're the one who's got me nervous!”
“Okay. My bad. I just know that some things have popped off, and with Carlos getting shot and all, I don't know what to believe.”
“You think my dad had something to do with that?”
“I don't know. Maybe,” Big D says. “That's the word on the street.”
Now that's just great. I'm about to see my dad for the first time in over five years and Big D drops this bomb on me. So not fair.
“You know what? I'm not gonna let anything about my mom and dad's relationship get in this conversation. Just because they've got bad blood between them, that doesn't have anything to do with me.”
“Okay . . .”
“And I choose to believe that he didn't have anything to do with Carlos getting shot until I learn differently.”
“I feel you on that, baby girl,” Big D says. “Are you ready for Barbados? You got your passport and everything together?”
A little chuckle escapes from my mouth. “It's a little late in the day to be checking to see if I have my papers. We leave the day after tomorrow.”
“I know. I'm just making small talk. Trying to keep you company until your dad gets here.”
“Thanks, Big D. I appreciate you for that.”
The doorbell rings, and curiously enough I'm caught off guard. I knew that my father was coming, but I still jumped when the doorbell sounded. Is that an omen or what?
“Well . . . me and Shelly will be upstairs chilling. Just holla if you need me.”
“All right.”
The doorbell rings again, so I go to the door to answer it. I can feel my feet dragging along, as if I don't want to see my dad. Maybe I'm afraid that after I tell him he's not going to be in charge of my career, he won't come back ever again.
This might be the last time I see him.
I open the door slowly, holding my breath the whole time. My father is standing there in jeans and a Phat Farm polo, looking almost exactly the same as the last time I saw him, with the exception of a few gray hairs in his goatee.
He holds his arms out for a hug, and my response is awkward at best. I kind of tumble into his arms in an unsure motion. He even smells the same. He still wears the same perfume my mom used to buy him for his birthday. Cool Water for Men.
“Sunday . . . wow. . . . You're . . . you're grown.”
I blush and look at my feet. I am grown! I don't even know how to respond to this.
“Do you want to come in?”
I show my father to the leather couch and we both sit down.
“Big D is doing all right, ain't he?” my father says as he looks around at all of Big D's high-tech gadgets.
“I guess. He works really hard for his artists and gets them good opportunities.”
“
His
artists? He doesn't own you.”
I see he's gonna get directly to the point. He's not even gonna ask me about the last five years of my life? How about a “sorry I haven't been around”?
“Nobody owns me, but Big D has my back and watches out for me. He makes sure nobody takes advantage of me.”
“Who's watching him?”
I don't reply. I gaze at the floor with tears threatening to form in my eyes. This is not how I anticipated our reunion would be.
He seems to note my sadness, and clears his throat. “How have you and your mother been? Is she still with that Puerto Rican guy?”
“She's not with Carlos right now, but we've been okay.”
“I'm glad.”
“How . . . how have you been?” Is this an appropriate question to ask of someone who just got out of jail? I have no idea.
“I'm good. Been working hard. Got some business deals going that are really going to pay off.”
“That's good.”
“Yeah, I saw you on TV when I was locked up. That show on BET. The video show.”
“
106 & Park
?”
“Yeah, that's the one. I saw you and Dreya, and I knew you were finally gonna do it. All that singing you did as a little girl was gonna pay off.”
I'm still tripping off the fact that my daddy was watching me on TV in jail. This is a wow moment.
“Yeah, that was a really big deal for us.”
“And I never knew Dreya had all that attitude! She was working the crowd.”
My dad jumps up off the couch and does a pretty good imitation of Dreya's dancing. I cover my mouth, but the laugh still escapes.
He says, “I wish I had known you were so talented. You could've retired your mama a long time ago from that post office.”
“Better late than never, huh?”
He sits back down. “Yeah, I hope so. . . .”
Crap. Crap, crap, crap. I didn't mean to say that. Especially since he's a latecomer to the Sunday Tolliver show. It just kinda leaked out.
“You know, I always managed to make sure you and Shawn were okay,” my dad says. “You might not know about it, but I did send money when I could.”
“I honestly don't know. My mom has never said anything about it one way or the other.”
My Aunt Charlie on the other hand . . . well, let's just say . . . every negative thing I've ever heard about my father came out of her mouth. She can't stand him and she doesn't have a problem telling the world.
“Well, Shawn always was a sweetheart. I should've known she wouldn't talk bad about me.”
“Can I ask you a question?” I ask.
“Anything. Ask me anything.”
“Why are you coming around now? It's not that I'm not happy to see you, but why now?”
“Because I don't want to see these big-time record executives pimp you. And they will if you let them. Plus, I heard some bull popped off in New York. If Carlos and his crew put you in danger again, there will be hell to pay.”
“So you're not just interested in the money?” I hate that I have to ask this question, but I feel like if I don't, I'll be kicking myself later for not asking it.
“Nah, I don't need your money. I'm set right now. As a matter of fact . . . naw, never mind.”
“What? Tell me.”
He links his fingers together and cracks his knuckles. “Well, I wasn't gonna say anything about this, because if I know your mother, she'll try to give the money back.”
“What money?”
“I sent you that twenty-five-thousand-dollar check.”
Now it's my turn to jump out of my seat. “What?
You
sent the money?”
“Yeah, Bryce told me what happened with Carlos, and I couldn't let your college fund go up in smoke like that.”
I shake my head. This isn't making any sense. Why would Bryce tell my father anything about this, and why would Bryce care to try to help Carlos in his money issues?
“Bryce told you what? That he stole my college fund from Carlos?”
My father chuckles and pats the seat next to him. “Is that what you think happened?”
I nod. “Carlos told my mom that Bryce was going to let him buy a stake in the club for twenty-five thousand dollars, and that when it was time for the deal to go down Bryce reneged, and shot Carlos.”
“He's leaving out some very crucial elements from the story.”
I sit back down. “Like what?”
“Like the fact that it was fifty thousand for him to buy a stake in the club. He was trying to gamble your college fund to get the rest of the money.”
“I don't believe this.”
My father ignores my protest and keeps talking. “When he lost nearly all of your money, he and his cousins tried to strong-arm Bryce. They came in his club with guns blazing, thinking they were going to force Bryce to sign over a portion of the club's profits to Carlos.”
No, no, no! This cannot be true! If it's true, then it means that the man my mother loves stole my money plain and simple. That's probably the real reason why he refuses to show his face. He's probably guilty as all get-out.
“My mom would be very upset if she heard about this.”
“That's why you shouldn't tell her. I probably shouldn't have told you. I just don't want you thinking that Bryce and LaKeisha are the enemy. Bryce told me y'all have beef, but you and his little brother just got caught in the cross fire of all this.”
“What did you have to do with it?” I ask. It seems like he has too many details to have just heard about this. I could be one-hundred-percent wrong, but it just doesn't seem to make sense.
“I didn't have anything to do with that. Bryce and I go way back. Plus we have a mutual dislike for Carlos. Carlos did his sister dirty, and was messing with my ex-wife.”
“So you're telling me that this whole time I've believed Bryce was the villain and it was really Carlos? Bryce is the good guy?”
My father laughs. “I don't know if I'd call him the good guy. He's just not the one who made your college fund disappear.”
“Well . . . I know you just want to help and all, but really my mom has got my back on the music thing. I don't know if it would be a good idea for you to get in the mix. Let me get through this reality show and maybe we can talk about it again.”
I don't know why I can't just come out and say no. Maybe I'm ashamed that I don't trust my own father enough to be a part of my career. But that's the truth. I don't trust him, because I don't really know him.
Is that bad?
“I guess that's your choice,” he says. “But just know that I'm there if you need me. Give me your cell phone so I can put my number in there.”
It's crazy that my father's number is not already in my cell phone. Or that my mother wouldn't have known how to contact him if we had an emergency. And why isn't he asking for my number too? Why should I have to do all of the calling? He's the father. He should call me, right?
“I'm so proud of you, Sunday.”
“Because I have a record deal?”
“Yes, but not just that. I'm proud that you are going to college and that you turned out so well. I brag about you all the time.”
Well, this is something. I've never heard this from my dad before. Now that I think about it, I've never heard it from a man before.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Well, your mom told me you were on your way out of the country in a couple days.”
“You called my mom?”
He laughs out loud. “No, Shawn called me. Threatened my life! She told me that I better not stand you up over here.”
I can't help but smile. My mom always holds it down for me. “You know how my mom is. She's a ride-or-die chick.”
“Yeah, I miss Shawn. Hate that things didn't work out between us! But we did one thing right.”
“Really?” I ask. “What's that?”
“We made you, baby girl.”
My father stands to his feet. “Well, I don't want to take up too much of your time. I know you've got work to do.”
I feel a lump in my throat the size of a golf ball. I don't want him to go. It's been less than an hour and I haven't seen him in years.
“Do you . . . um . . . want to get something to eat, Daddy? Shelly made us some grub, but if you don't want to stay here we can go somewhere else. My treat.”

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