Page 1 of Brown Sugar
1
KIANA
“Are you listening, K? Kiana?Kiana!”
I’m busy smirking at my phone ’til Amari snatches it out of my hands. I look up at her as if I’m just now aware of her presence and we haven’t been stuck in the back of this limo together for the last forty-five minutes.
“What the hell, A? I was reading that!”
“You mean the selfie you’ve been staring at since we left LAX? Baby girl, please. At least make sure I’m not sitting right next to you when you lie.”
“What else am I supposed to do? It’s been almost an hour and we’ve moved, like, twenty feet.”
Amari’s round features clench into a scowl. She turns her head forward and taps at the glass partition that separates us from the driver. When it rolls down, she scooches closer. “Hi, Amari Baduza, stylist and twin sister of R&B sensation Kiana. Remember me?”
The driver blinks at us in the rearview mirror as if questioning whether she’s joking. “Yes… considering I picked you up from the airport myself.”
“Cool story, but see… here’s the thing. I’m not sure youget it. R&B megastar Kiana has sold more than ten million albums.”
The driver blinks some more. “I’m aware she’s a best-selling artist.”
“Are you though?” Amari asks, tilting her head to the side, her tone snippy. “’Cuz I’m thinking if you were, you’d find us a way around this horrendous LA traffic?—”
“Amari,” I laugh nervously. Then I flash an apologetic smile to the driver. “I’m sorry, you can ignore her. She gets a little cranky when she hasn’t had her afternoon snack and nap. It’s been that way since she was three.”
I’m on the receiving end of Amari’s glare all over again. She’s forgotten about pestering the chauffeur and refocused her attention entirely on me.
“Oh, so we’re pulling the big sister card, are we?”
“Iamyour bigger sister. Don’t look at me like that—those two minutes count! And why not pull that card? You pulled the ‘stylist of R&B sensation’ card!” I ask in return, settled against the limo’s leather cushions.
Her eyes shrink to slits. “Wait ’til I tell Ma you were rude to me…”
“We’ll be seventy and covered in wrinkles and your little behind willstillbe trying to snitch on me.”
The tension breaks and we bust up in laughter at how true it is. The chauffeur seems more lost than ever as the limo fills up with our laughter, and he presses the button to raise the partition and cut us off.
Amari nudges my knee with hers. “Why did I agree to work for my twin again?”
“Because you love fashion, and I needed somebody who could style me.”
“Which is why we need to hurry our asses up to this event, K—and not just any event, the Grammys, for which you’re performingandnominated!”
“I already told you my mind’s made up.”
“But it’s out of the way.”
I fold my arms. “Don’t care.”
“You’ll see him later tonight.”
“Not soon enough.”
Amari’s nose scrunches up. “This is about getting that itch scratched, isn’t it? The both of you are nasties.”
“We do what grown folks do.”
“Don’t need to know what you two get up to.” Amari makes a retching noise that only makes me roll my eyes and smile.