deliberate pause, he starts to play.
I sing, âYou checking up on me/You checking up on me/Who do you think you are?/You donât own me/You donât know me/Iâm a star, baby/Nobody checks up on me.â
Dreya squeals with delight as we finish the song. âThatâs hot! I love it. When can I record it?â
âWe have to write the second verse, and the bridge,â I say. âBut itâll be next week.â
âWhy do we have to wait until next week? You and Sam were always able to bust out a song in an hour or so. Whatâs up?â Dreya asks.
Iâm not even going to respond to this. Dreya knows exactly whatâs up between me and Sam. Everyone in our camp knows. Sheâs just being messy right now. Sam takes off his baseball cap, scratches the top of his head, and replaces it. I know what this gesture means. Heâs trying to avoid answering the question too. Itâs amazing how much I picked up of Samâs individual tics from dating him just that little short time.
âSunday, can I talk to you in private for a minute?â Dreya asks. Then she looks at Sam, Shelly, and Big D. âCan we have a second?â
Big D frowns. âAm I being kicked out of my own studio?â
âJust for a minute,â Dreya says. âI really, really need to talk to my cousin.â
Okay, what is Dreya on? My cousin? I havenât heard her refer to me that way since we were little. She doesnât even introduce me as her cousin. Sheâs always like, âThis is Sunday.â
Sam pulls his hat low on his head and stands from the keyboard. âSunday, get at me before I leave, even if we have to finish this song over the phone.â
He doesnât wait for my response, but goes upstairs two steps at a time. Shelly sets her plate of pound cake down on the table and follows behind Sam. Big D is a lot slower in getting up the stairs. Iâm starting to be concerned about him. All that weight heâs carrying cannot be good.
When they are safely upstairs with the door to the basement closed, Dreya says, âSunday, Iâve got something to say to you. And itâs gonna be hard, but I have to do it.â
âOkay.â
âI am sorry for what I did to you. Iâm sorry I went to Epsilon Records and tried to get you dropped from your deal.â
This is a shock! An apology from Dreya? Am I being punkâd?
âWhy did you do it? I still donât understand why.â
âSunday, donât you see? You are a better singer than me! You write songs. Youâre prettier than me! I just wanted, for once, to be better than you . . . to have something that belongs to me.â
âWow. I donât even know what to say.â
âBut I donât feel the same way anymore. I know that there is room for both of us.â
I am skeptical of this entire conversation. This is so unlike Dreya that I think it has to be coming from someone else.
âDid Evan tell you to apologize?â I ask.
Dreya shakes her head. âNo, but he did tell me I was wrong to hate on you. I thought heâd be on my side, but he wasnât. He thinks family is everything.â
âSo it took Evan to tell you everything my mom has been saying to you since we were little?â
Dreya looks at the floor and shrugs. When she raises her head there are tears in her eyes. âSunday, do you know how jealous Iâve been of you our entire lives?â
âWhat?â
âYou had the good mother. Auntie Shawn works hard and yâall always had someplace to stay. Me and Manny never knew where we were gonna live, or even if weâd have dinner.â
I bite my lip and sadly think about Dreyaâs life. Aunt Charlie was always in kickinâ-it mode. She partied hard, even when she needed to be there for her kids. My mom always had to bail her out and make sure my cousins had a roof over their heads. It always irritated me when they lived
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