Not A Good Look by Nikki Carter

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.
    â€œActually, ma’am, I’ve never sold any drugs.”
    â€œWell, 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.”
    â€œWhere did you go to school?” my mother asks.
    â€œGeorgia Tech, ma’am. Played football, but I blew out my knee junior year.”
    â€œWell, 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.
    â€œThe 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.”
    â€œSo 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.”
    â€œSo what makes you and this record company think Dreya is ready for the spotlight?” Aunt Charlie asks.
    â€œShe’s good, and kids have already started downloading a song with her vocals on it.”
    â€œWhat 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.”
    â€œThat’s all? What about royalties?” Aunt Charlie asks.
    â€œIt’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?”
    â€œMy 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.
    â€œThese 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.
    â€œWhat?” she asks.
    â€œWho said I wanted anything? Maybe I’m just coming back to my room