Beyoncé
Mama drags me into our office by the earlobe.
She sits me down in the seat in front of the computer and shows me a screen.
Me kissing Megan at the restauraunt Friday night.
Honestly, I didn't think the kiss was that aggressive.
"Beyoncé Giselle Knowles. I don't have a problem with you going out, but you could've been more classy. We're running a million dollar business. Cameras are EVERYWHERE." She points angrily to the screen. "This is the fifteenth girl I've seen you out with online."
Yes, I know it makes me look like a hoe.
"Mama, look closer. That's Megan. This is a little more serious an—-"
"The bedroom is for sex. Not a random overrated Italian restaurant."
"Mama, we wasn't even fu—-"
"Make something for eachother at home. Not in public!" Tina yells with her arms out. "I don't know, I gave you cookbooks to learn from! But I don't need to see scandalous articles of my daughter all over as the business has been growing! The business has been supporting us well for the past couple of years and I'm not gonna let you mess it up, baby, I won't. I promise you that."
When I got arrested, my mama was left to take care of the business with so much fucking doubt placed on her. (Originally, it was mine, but I signed partial rights to her). Few people invested for to the fact my case made state and national news, and they only did it hesitantly.
I understand my mama wants our reputation squeaky clean, especially on my part, but it feels hella unrealistic. The white boys get to go to jail for worse, get bailed out after two nights, and no one says a thing. I do it, actually serve my time and now the business is in some sort of jeopardy.
At times I hate how everything lies on my shoulders like this.
I huff harshly and look at my mom.
"Fine, mama. Imma be more careful."
"Please take this serious." My mother says getting up in my face.
"I..." I slap my hands on my lap in defeat.
"Please."
I nod and move to my desk.
I log into my computer and indulge in some of the pictures on google. Who knows, some of these might be good enough for a wallpaper.
I find a picture of us from behind, where Megan is resting her head on my shoulder and has her other arm around me, on my ass.
I smile like a dumbass at the screen before my mother comes over and smacks me.
Oh right, I'm supposed to be thinking about my actions.
___
"Hey Bey-Bey."
"Hey." I respond.
Megan is doing her nighttime skincare routine as I vent to her about my morning.
It feels good to be able to talk to her about it.
Although she doesn't understand she's someone who's been a lot more receptive to my words and feelings about the situation.
"Shit's not fair. Why they so concerned for you though. Like be concerned with the products, review them."
"I mean you know, now in days cancellation exists. They lookin for anything now on purpose. One bad move and sales could drop."
"Hmm."
"Yeah."
"Chin up, Beyoncé."
I nod.
"You always got me here, Bey. Promise. Anything you wanna vent about, talk about, talk to me. I don't mind." She says as she pats her face dry.
I smile, "Thank you so much, Princess."
"No problem, Bey."
I shake my head and open my mouth again, "I wanna change the subject. Shit got me mad tired and annoyed."
"Ight." She responds. "You sexy as fuck, you know that, right?"
"Megan." I chuckle not bothering to cover my blushing cheeks.
