On the Flip Side (3 page)

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Authors: Nikki Carter

BOOK: On the Flip Side
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“Nice meeting y'all,” Ricky says. “Come on, Gi-Gi. Let's go dance.”
“That's what I'm talking about!” Gia says as she follows Ricky out to the area in the middle of the living room where everyone is dancing.
Kevin sighs. “They always abandon me for the dance floor. It's been like this since the ninth grade!”
“Don't worry,” Meagan says. “We'll keep you company, right, Piper?”
Piper grins. “Sure. You're a cutie!”
Kevin's eyes widen. “You Spelman ladies are ... aggressive.”
“No, sweetie.
She's
agressive,” Meagan says while pointing at Piper. “I'm assertive. Did you happen to see where they're serving beverages?”
Kevin points across the room. “The non-alcoholic beverages are over there.” He holds both of his arms out for Piper and Meagan to grab. “Shall we?” he says.
“We'll be back, Sunday. You want something?” Piper asks.
I shake my head. “Nah. I'm straight.”
I spy out a chill place to sit near the back of the room. It's hard to explain, but although I like being on stage when I sing, I'm really a background chick in real life.
I get comfortable at my post and watch Gia and Ricky dance. They are really good. Her moves are sort of a mixture of old-school Aaliyah with Ciara thrown in. And Ricky reminds me of Columbus Short in
Stomp the Yard.
He dances hard and smooth at the same time.
“Lookie here! Goody Good decided to come out of her dorm!”
I look up at my cousin Dreya and release a sigh. Why is she at a frat party? She's not in college, so how would she even know about it? Plus, doesn't she have an album to record, or a small animal to terrorize?
“Dreya.”
“Well, dang, cuzzo! You don't look happy to see me. I'm hurt.”
I roll my eyes and check out Dreya's crew. One of the girls is a serious tomboy. She's got her hair pulled back in a low ponytail and she's wearing a tank top and some boyfriend jeans. The only thing that saves her from looking severely thugged out is that she has a fly designer bag and some fierce heels. The other girl with Dreya has interesting.. . . no ...
impossible
body proportions. Her boobs are like three times the size of mine and I've got more than a handful. Her waist is unnaturally tiny like a Bratz doll, and her behind is gargantuan. I almost want to poke it to see if it's real.
“Drama, introduce us to your cousin,” the tomboy says.
“Okay, dang! Y'all don't have to be so amped to meet her. She's just Sunday.”
“She's an artist with a gold debut record,” tomboy says. “I don't know what you smoking, Drama!”
“Okay,” bootylicious says. “I might could be in her next video.”
Dreya shakes her head with irritation. “You so stupid! Why would she have you in her video? She needs hot boys—not hot girls.”
“It could happen! Sunday, I'm Tasia.”
Tomboy sits down next to me. “And I'm Kiki. Rapper slash producer slash choreographer. Get at me. Follow me on Twitter.”
“Um ... okay,” I say. “Nice to meet y'all.”
“I wonder what Auntie Shawn would say about you kicking it at the same parties as me,” Dreya says.
I laugh out loud. “Nothing, 'cause I'm grown.”
Kiki high-fives me. “I know that's right.”
Dreya moves Kiki out of the way and plops down next to me, crowding my space. This party just went from classy to ghetto in five minutes. Who let Dreya in? I thought they had bouncers at the door.
“So, I need you to write me another song,” Dreya says. “That other stuff you gave me is too vanilla. And I want to rap.”
“You want to rap?” I ask this incredulously even as I let myself entertain the idea of Dreya rapping. She might just be a good fit for that. I can see her spitting on a microphone. She's definitely got the attitude to pull it off, and she's got the vocals to sing her own hooks.
“What does Epsilon Records think about you rapping? That's a big change for you.”
“I think they'll like it if it's hot. And then ... well we won't be competing with one another all the time. This could be my thing.”
The only thing that concerns me is that rappers, emcees, etc., have like this code and it ain't cool if you don't write your own lyrics. That could be the kiss of death to a rap career.
“Do you want to take a stab at composing your own lyrics? That might be best.”
Dreya laughs out loud. “Girl, please. I'm not trying to sound all Dr. Seuss up in this piece. I want the fiyah.”
I consider this again. Dilly and I could probably come up with some hotness for the mess that is Drama. Dilly is an up-and-coming rapper with Epsilon Records and he's got mad skills.
“Well, I've got a video shoot on Saturday.”
“Where they shooting your video?”
“At Zac's mansion.”
Dreya makes eye contact with Tasia and Kiki.
“See what I mean, y'all?” she says. “They show her mad love. It's like I'm a stepchild.”
“Don't worry, ma,” Kiki says. “Your time is coming.”
I shake my head, because I know there's no convincing Dreya otherwise. She believes what she believes about how Epsilon Records treats us. Dreya doesn't realize that drama gets old sometimes, and it doesn't always sell records.
“Let's hook up on Sunday,” I say, “Oh wait. Dang, I've got a recording session with Bethany.”
“All day?” Dreya asks.
“No, but I have to write a paper this weekend. Sunday evening will be my only chance.”
Dreya sucks her teeth and rolls her eyes. “Well, dang, cuzzo. Just when can I get on your calendar?”
“Monday evening.”
“All right then, princess!” Dreya says as she stands.
“What do you mean?” Her words didn't sound like a compliment. It sounded like a diss.
“It means that if you don't get out from under Mystique's shadow, you always gonna be her successor, and she ain't giving up that queen throne. Come on, y'all, let's be out. I got what I came for.”
I guess Dreya forgot who I am or what I came to do. I'm not in the music industry for anyone's queendom. I'm in this game to pay for my college and help turn my mother's trife life to lavish.
I scan the crowd to see what's up with my friends. Piper has abandoned Kevin and Meagan and is on the dance floor, getting it poppin' all by herself. I guess she got tired of waiting for someone to ask her to dance.
Meagan and Kevin look like they're having a serious conversation. Way too serious for this party. They look like they're having some type of world summit for young black leaders.
And Gia and Ricky have a little audience now. Some of the Gamma Phi Gamma girls are whistling and the Chi Kappa Psi brothers are yelling, “Go 'head!”
Gia's Tweety shirt is stuck to her body and her face is glistening with sweat. Ricky looks overheated too. I know where to find some backup dancers in a pinch, because they are crowd pleasers.
A satisfied grin appears on my face as my song “Can U See Me” blasts from the speakers. This is exactly what I thought college would be like. New friends, hot parties, and my music.
Piper runs over to me and grabs my hand. “I know you're enjoying holding up the wall, but you've got to dance on this!”
I allow Piper to pull me to the dance floor. This is truly what's up! If I was writing my own dream, I couldn't make it better than this!
4
M
y least favorite task to complete as a pop star is shooting videos. It is so much work and not even the least bit fun. First, I have to learn choreography. I'm an okay dancer, but nothing like Mystique and she always has complex moves. At least “The Highlight” is a slow song, so I don't have to pop, lock, and drop it.
“This is what a plié looks like, Sunday.”
I watch the dance instructor, Tina, do a graceful knee bend and come back to a standing position.
I don't know if I can accomplish that. Especially in front of everyone in Zac's dance studio. The mirrors on the walls are supposed to be good for dancers, but to me they are just intimidating.
“Come on, Sunday,” Mystique says. “You have to at least try.”
I glance over at the guy who is supposed to be my leading man in this video. His name is DeShawn, and he is ridiculously cute. He's dark brown with a low cut fade, full lips, and big expressive eyes. He's also ripped with muscles, probably because he's on the football team at Georgia State.
DeShawn's eyes sparkle as he grins at me. “Come on, Ms. Tolliver. We don't have all day,” he teases.
“Oh shut up!” I reply with a chuckle. “You come over here and try it if it's so easy.”
DeShawn swaggers to the center of the room, clears his throat, and shocks everyone, especially me, with the perfect plié.
“Now what?” he asks as I stand there with my mouth hanging open.
Mystique bursts into laughter. “Um, DeShawn here is messing with you. He is a classically trained dancer! He's probably been doing pliés since he was little.”
“Both of my parents are dancers,” he explains. “They met in the Alvin Ailey Dance Company.”
“Okay, so? I can't dance,” I say.
“Yes, you can!” Mystique says.
Gia and Piper chant from their post on the wall. “Yes, you can. Yes, you can. Yes, you can.”
“Okay, dag!” I say as I try to get my mind right.
It's just one move. One little knee bend. I can do this without looking awkward, right?
I take a deep breath, and try to accomplish the move. It looks okay to me in the mirror, but I don't know if I did it right.
“Almost,” the choreographer says. “I need your back a little straighter.”
I let out a loud and frustrated sigh, and everyone in the room bursts into laughter.
“Try it again, Sunday,” DeShawn says. “You want me to do it with you? Let me help.”
DeShawn takes my arms and places them in the air, and then puts his hand in the small of my back. I ignore the tingle that goes through me, because I have a boyfriend, and no other boy (no matter how fine he might be) should make me feel tingly.
“Now go,” DeShawn says. “My hand will help keep your back straight.”
This time when I do the plié, Tina and Mystique clap! DeShawn takes a bow and a smile bursts onto my face.
“That was a perfect plié,” Tina says. “I'd think you'd taken ballet your entire life.”
“Finally!” I say. “Can we take a break now? I need some water!”
Tina looks at Mystique and Mystique nods. “Okay, take five,” Tina says.
I rush over to the refreshment table, but instead of water I choose a bottle of apple juice. Gia, Piper, and DeShawn all join me although I'm ashamed to look at DeShawn right now with that plié debacle still looming over my head.
“I don't know if you had anything to do with the selection,” DeShawn says to me as he pops open a can of Sprite, “but good looking out! I'm paying my way through school with modeling gigs, so this could really open up some doors for me.”
“I didn't have anything to do with it, but I hope it's a come-up for you. You're pretty talented.” And fine. But I do not say this out loud, because I have a boyfriend.
“You're on the football team with my boyfriend, Ricky,” Gia says. “Do you know him?”
DeShawn nods. “Yes, he's the freshman that everyone is ranting and raving about. The first-string quarterback is pretty nervous, because he had a rough season last year, and is already struggling a little bit.”
“Well, Ricky would never come in trying to take somebody's spot. He would wait for his own time to shine.”
“That's good to know,” DeShawn says. “But that won't stop coach from making the move if need be. Trust, if Gray fumbles that ball one more time on a game-changing play, your boyfriend will see some action.”
Gia has a contemplative look on her face. I like how she has her boyfriend's back at all times. She's not even fazed at DeShawn's good looks. She's holding a conversation with him like he's some regular dude. I could learn a thing or two from her, I think, about being a good girlfriend.
But then again, her man isn't across the country, on a college campus full of beautiful girls, and kicking it with Zac the Zillionaire. It's hard for me to imagine Sam not doing a double take when a cutie with a booty walks past him.
Why couldn't he have stayed here and continued working for Big D?
When Zac made Sam the offer to work at Epsilon Record's main office in New York, as an in-house producer /songwriter, it took me some time to get used to the idea that he wouldn't be here. To be honest, I still don't know if I'm used to it.
But, the opportunity was one that he couldn't pass up. He deserves to blow up just like anybody else. As a matter of fact, Dreya, her bootleg ex-boyfriend, Truth, and I wouldn't even have record deals if it wasn't for Sam's talent.
“So, are you seeing anyone?” DeShawn asks as if he's reading my thoughts about my long-distance love. “I remember seeing something on Sandra Rose, about you dating this rapper?”
I roll my eyes. “I never dated Truth. That was my cousin.”
“So you're single?”
“No, I'm not. I do have a boyfriend. He goes to school in New York.”
“So, out of sight, out of mind?” DeShawn asks. He punctuates his question by biting his bottom lip. Dude's mack game is on point, that's for sure.
I give him a little smile. “Sorry. My boo is always on my mind.”
Gia and Piper say, “Awwwww ...” in unison.
“That's too bad. Let me know if you need an escort anywhere. I'd love to have you on my arm.”
“Why? Will it help your modeling career?” I ask. Once I say the question, I wish I could take it back. DeShawn looks offended.
“It probably would, but that's not why I said it. I think you're fly, Sunday. Can't fault a brotha for trying.”
Mystique calls from the dance floor. “Come on, y'all. Let's nail this so we don't have to be here until two o'clock in the morning.”
DeShawn and I hustle back to the dance floor, but my mind isn't totally on learning dance moves. I'm thinking about DeShawn's offer to escort me somewhere. Is there something wrong with me that I'm actually giving a second thought to his offer? I shake my head and concentrate on the choreography, because even though DeShawn is a straight hottie, I know I'd be ready to spazz all the way out if Sam was even thinking of giving another girl some play.
At the end of the song, DeShawn has to step in and hug me from behind. Feeling his arms around me is a distraction, just like the butterflies in my stomach.
I let out a big sigh as the song ends. This long-distance teenage love affair is going to be a lot harder than I thought.

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