Fireworks 1 and 2

Chapter Forty-Eight

    The crowd was boisterous. They were chanting for PartyNextDoor, whose legal name was Jahron Brathwaite. He was tall, with a medium brown complexion and dark, narrow eyes. His hair was braided, and he wore a backwards hat. He was dressed casually, in a black t-shirt and jeans. He stood in the backstage area in front of the dressing rooms talking with Drake, who'd also dressed casually.

    If they're dressed so casually, I don't understand why we had to stop at a designer shop before coming here, Mia thought. One of my outfits would have worked just fine. She watched them through the crack in the door of the dressing room before closing the door and walking back over to the mirror.

    Bri sat on the couch in the dressing room with one leg crossed over the other, bouncing to the beat of the song she was playing from her cell phone. She'd dressed in a cute, flowy red top, jeans, and a nice pair of heels. She'd worn her hair down, and the ends hit just below her shoulders. A pair of designer eyeglasses rested on the bridge of her nose as she scrolled through her phone.

    Mia adjusted the strap of her dress while studying her reflection. Drake determined that she should wear her hair curly, so she'd worn her natural curls. She had expected him to take them to the mall, but instead he'd taken them to a designer boutique shop. He explained that he knew the designer, and had faith that the designer would be able to assist them on short notice.

    The designer did not disappoint. The tall, skinny European woman had taken one look at Mia's frame and felt she knew the exact dress that should be worn for the performance. The designer disappeared and when she reappeared, she was holding a gorgeous dress: sleeveless with navy blue and black material criss-crossed in the front. Blue, black, and green material draped over the tighter part of the dress, creating a flattering swoop effect. Mia had tried on the garment and confirmed that it fit. Drake paid for the dress and requested that the dress be placed into a garment bag. Then Mia, Drake, and Bri were out of the boutique and on the way to House of Blues.

    Now, Mia stood before the dressing room mirror. She'd changed into the dress and surveyed how it fit her curvy frame. Plum purple heeled booties, dangling earrings, and gold bracelets completed the look. She'd done her own makeup. She'd kept it subtle, eyeliner, lip gloss, and a touch of eyeshadow. She fluffed out her hair and looked at Bri in the mirror. "What are you doing right now?" she asked out of curiosity.

    "Wondering why Drake has better fashion sense than you do," Bri said without lifting her eyes.

    "Don't start," Mia said, turning to face her friend.

    "I'm kidding, kind of," Bri said, "I'm just over here in disbelief that I've been rubbing elbows with Drake all week and that I got to meet Jahron. Jahron, who would have been my future husband if I wasn't already taken."

    Mia laughed.

    A soft knock sounded on the door and Mia walked across the room to answer it. She cracked the door open and peered through the crack. A downturned eye fringed with thick lashes looked back to her. She opened the door wider and stepped aside so he could enter.

    Drake stared at her face first, then allowed his gaze to travel downward. He touched his fingertip to his lips as he walked into the room. His eyes raked over her. "Turn around for me," he told her.

    She smoothed the folds of her dress down and turned around in a circle.

    His eyes were sparkling with intensity when he took a step towards her. "You look..." He took another step forward and grabbed her face in his hands. "You look like an angel," he said softly.

    She stared up at him, beaming. Glowing and radiant. Naturally beautiful.

    He dipped his head down and kissed her gently on the lips, not caring that her friend was sitting on the couch gaping at them. His arms circled around Mia's waist and pulled her closer to him. When the kiss ended, he stared at her for several moments before lifting his head and glancing in Bri's direction. "Sorry about that," he said, not sounding sorry at all.

    Bri shook her head and sputtered, completely speechless for once. "I-I-It's fine," she said with a wave of her hand.

    He looked at the watch on his wrist and narrowed his eyes. "Jahron takes the stage in about ten minutes," he informed them. "Mia, you and I go on about forty-five minutes in. We're all going to gather in the hall and do a quick prayer. Then I want to run over the song with you a few times, make sure we have the song down."

    She nodded. "Okay, yeah. Sounds like a plan."

    She and Bri followed him out of the dressing room and into the hall, where most of his crew was already gathered. Niko and Ryan talking and laughing it up, Oliver typing into his cell phone, Mark and Hush deep in conversation, Future The Prince humming beats aloud, OB whistling and hollering at a few of the women who walked past him, Chubbs, Spoons, and Tank keeping an eye on their surroundings to make sure everyone was kept safe, and this time even Johnny Roxx, Drake's trainer, was in attendance, speaking intensely to his wife.

    Drake clapped his hands. "Are we missing anyone?" he called out.

    "Wasn't Reign supposed to meet us here?" Ryan asked, pausing his conversation with Niko. He was referencing P Reign, a friend, crew member, and another OVO label artist. 

     "Reign hasn't gotten back from St. Maarten yet," Oliver said, his eyes glued to the screen of his cell phone. He raised his head and glanced around at the group. "We have Jahron and DVSN. Everyone is here."

    "Hold the hand of the people standing on either side of you," Drake instructed.

    Everyone did as they were told.

    "Bow your heads." Drake bowed his own head as he spoke the words. With his voice lowered, he led them into an inspirational, motivating prayer. Mia stood to his right, and Bri stood to her right. Jahron stood to Drake's left. When the prayer was over, Drake clapped his hands. He and his crew members started chanting. "Whose year is it?" Drake shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth.

    "Our year!" his crew barked back.

    "Whose year is it?" Ryan shouted to the ceiling.

    "Our year! Our year!"

    "OVO, baby." OB bumped knuckles with Ryan, then tipped the brim of his white TOPSZN hat.

    There was a lot of chanting, a lot of clapping, a lot of pats on the back and a lot of shouting. The crew was hype.

    "PND about to kill it!" Mark shouted.

    Drake grinned, feeding off of the energy of his friends. "What are we standing around waiting for?" he demanded. "Let's kill it!"

    The audience was still chanting, still shouting an abbreviated version of Jahron's stage name. "Party! Party! Party!"

    Drake slung an arm around Jahron's shoulders. "Go out there and show em what OVO and OMO are about, brother."

    Jahron's smile was slow and charming. He tipped his head forward and backed away. He headed down the hall and up a short set of metal stairs.

    A moment later, Mia, Drake, and the rest of the crew heard his voice over the loudspeakers as he asked smoothly into the mic, "Did someone call for me? I think I heard someone screaming my name." The crowd went wild.