Grown(27)

“Um . . . it’s OK.”

He frowns, tucking his phone away. “Give us a moment.”

The stylist nods and leaves the trailer.

“What’s wrong, Bright Eyes?”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Um, why do I need a wig?”

“It’s for your look. We’re trying to build your brand, remember? And you know what teen fans want? Girls with hair. They want that Beyoncé—you have to give it to them.”

He touches the ends of Melissa, twirling her around his fingers.

“You know, it says in the Bible that women shouldn’t shave their heads. It’s a sin against the Lord.”

My mouth opens, but no words come out. How do I argue with the Bible, something he knows so well and I . . . don’t know at all?

“Besides, it’ll make me happy. Cool?”

But . . . I thought I already made him happy. I thought he liked the way I looked.

I swallow back all the rising questions and wince a smile.

“OK.”

“Bet. Make sure you wear her tonight.”





Chapter 35


TV Notes




Tonight’s concert afterparty in Los Angeles is being hosted by BET’s Music LIVE at the Mandarin Oriental.

I stand off in the corner of the roped-off VIP area. Sweat is building under Melissa but one quick breeze could blow my too-short skirt off my ass.

Korey glances at me from across the room and winks. It’s our special little message to each other. He doesn’t like to be seen in public with me. Thinks it may give people the wrong impression; they won’t understand. So I stand by, faithful to my man.

My man. Korey Fields is MY man. And I’m really in California. I’ve touched palm trees and seen the Hollywood sign in the hills up close. Had to pinch myself several times to make sure I’m not dreaming.

Next to Korey, Richie pours himself another glass of champagne.

“So, what’d you think, fam? I think it’d be a hit! You know, your life story,” he continues to explain. “Take all that home-video footage, spice it up with some exclusive interviews—it’ll make a fire documentary for BET, HULU, or even Netflix.”

“Man, you really trying to get that executive producer money, huh?” Korey laughs. “You want the Emmy bad! I mean, I’m down. If you say it’s gonna bang, I trust you.”

Richie smirks. “We could even make it a series! Life and Times of Korey Fields. Has a nice ring to it, right?”

“So, what you need from me?”

“All your home videos. Old and new.”

Korey chuckles. “Well, not ALL my home videos. Some of them gotta be for the private viewing, feel me?”

The men cackle. Richie shakes his head. “Hey, man, leave the X-rated stuff at home. But we should highlight some of your wild-boy days. Then come back to how you found God.”

Korey turns real serious. “Yo! I’ve always knew God. Don’t get it twisted!”

Richie holds up his hands. “My bad, bruh. No disrespect.”

My ankles crack as I struggle to walk in sky-high heels in search of a bathroom. So many people, yet I don’t see Jessica anywhere. Not that she’s much of a chaperone, and I’ve caught her rolling her eyes a couple of times at the most basic questions.

“Hey, Enchanted, right?”

A boy in a light blue blazer and white sneakers leaning against the bar waves a hand.

“Yeah. But how did you—”

“I remember you from your audition, back in New York. Derrick Price, Richie’s son.” He eyes Melissa with a squint. “I . . . uh, almost didn’t recognize you.”

I shift on my heel. “Um, yeah. New look.”

He has dark brown skin with a mop of curly brown hair and kind hazel eyes. “Well, Pops and I don’t share the same taste, but I thought you were dope!”

“Thanks,” I say, pushing a strand of Melissa hair behind my ear. “So you work for your dad?”

He laughs. “Yeah, intern. Or my official title is executive assistant. How old are you again?”

“I’m eighteen.”

Derrick frowns. “Huh, that’s weird. I thought your application said you were seventeen.”

I breathe in, practicing the line Korey fed me.

“Ha! I know, I look young for my age.”

Derrick’s eyebrow cocks up. “Uh, right. My bad, I thought you were still in high school like me, that’s all. I’m a senior.”

“Um, so . . . dope party,” I say, changing the subject.

“Yeah,” he says then his eyes grow big. “Yo! Over there! You see that? That’s Jasmine Keith, from Love and Hip Hop.”

I glance around the room until I spot her by the bar.

“OMG! That is her!” I can’t help but grin. “Aight, so I know I shouldn’t be about black folks fighting on TV, but I was cheering when she whooped Megan B.’s ass during the season finale.”

“So you watch Love and Hip-Hop too? Dope, right?”

“Well, my sister does. And most of the time, I’m nearby . . . pretending not to be.”

We laugh, walking closer to the bar. “I feel you. I know I shouldn’t be all into it, but it’s like crack TV.”