Rihanna has approached the pinnacle of her career. While success brings the "glit and glammer", it also attracts negative energy. When the Bajan Bad Gal encounters a crazy fan, she is forced to increase her security team. Then comes Y/n Branston.
Y...
"Thank you Brooklyn! I had such a bomb ass time tonight!"
Cheers roared as I concluded the Brooklyn Show to my Anti World Tour. I smiled widely as my guitarist played the instrumentals to "Kiss It Better" while I walked the stage a final time.
"You guys never disappoint! I love you all and have a good night!" I strutted to the back as I heard different statements such as "I love you Rih Rih!" "Marry me, RIhanna!" "Take me with you!" I finally made it to the last step before blowing out a huge breath.
Damn, a bitch is getting to old for this shit.
I continued backstage while being followed by my bodyguard, Geoff, and talking to and thanking several of the backstage staff before reaching my group. I screamed as I saw familiar faces.
"You did that shit, bitch!" Melissa screamed as she hugged me tightly. She quickly retreated realizing how sweaty I was after performing. "Girl, I forgot you smell like outside." She commented while turning her nose up. I flipped her off before being welcomed by Jennifer.
"Fuck you, hoe! But come on so I can take a shower."
We went back to the dressing room and collected our belongings. We waited until we got confirmation from the security team that our truck was in the back. We walked back to the truck and climbed into quickly before any commotion could form.
As we rode out, I looked my black phone screen before powering it on and scrolling through my Instagram. As expected, I watched as my latest post received millions of likes within minutes. Similarly, the story that Mel posted of my show's introduction received millions of likes and just as many messages in my DM's.
I sighed heavily before closing it up as we slowly approached the 129 Lafayette Street Condominiums that I resided in in SoHo. We thanked the driver before we prepared for the battle that became annoying yet continuous.
Paparazzi.
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(envision this at night time)
"Rihanna, are you pregnant by Drake?!?!"
"Are you stepping away from the music?!?!"
"Are you will your best friend secretly?!?!"
In true Rihanna Fashion, I decided to play with the celebrity photographers in order to add more "razzle dazzle" to the story that will be put out.
"I don't know, you should ask him. Maybe, maybe not. And yes, because Rihanna doesn't fuck with basic hoes." Of course, my best friend supported my foolishness as usual by adding her statement, "No basics!" before we ran into the building. The lobby doors were held open, then blocked by my bodyguard and eventually we made it to the elevator that led us to the 12th floor.
