Fireworks 1 and 2

Jungle: Chapter Thirty-Two

    The plus side on dropping in on Drake unannounced was that Mia would get to witness the first show of his tour. She rode in the backseat of a tinted windowed SUV with him at her side. When he wasn't mentally preparing himself for his performance, he was talking on his cell phone. Friends, family, and celebrities who were in town wanted to wish him good luck on his tour or advise him that they were either at the center or on their way.

    He managed to answer his phone calls while still holding her hand in his lap.

    She remained quiet, not wanting to distract him from preparing for his performance. This was her first chance getting to see him on tour, but she'd seen some of his talk show and award show performances. As such, she had witnessed the zone he got lost in before going on stage.

    He was a perfectionist in every sense of the word. In the moments leading up to him stepping out onstage, he was breaking down factors in his mind: were the pyrotechnics and lights taken care of and would those go off without a hitch, would his vocals be on point tonight, would his energy be up to the level it needed to be tonight, would the crowd be hype...all questions that generally ran through his mind before performing.

    The American Airlines Arena was a huge venue that sat nearly twenty thousand people. Drake's crew arrived six cars deep.

    The tour manager, a tall brown-skinned man with a low fade, was waiting for them inside of the back entrance. He pointedly glanced at the watch on his wrist, then raised his eyes to Drake. "What happened? I called, I texted. I was a minute away from sending a carrier pigeon."

    "I got...caught up," Drake explained, his tone apologetic. "Did Future go on?"

    "Yeah, he's still on, keeping the crowd going. It's go time. It's past go time. The crowd is still hype, but they're getting antsy." The tour manager turned and led the way down a long, dark corridor. At the end, he opened a large metal door that creaked.

    Mia followed Drake through the doorway and another stretch of corridor lay before them, this one well lit. Music could be heard off in the distance, through several sets of metal doors and thick walls.

    The tour manager spoke as he walked, studying Drake's Toronto Blue Jays jersey, t-shirt, and jeans. "Do you need to change before going on stage? Can you go on stage the way you're dressed now? Did you need anything - water, anything before you go on?"

    Drake responded in a low voice as he followed the tour manager.

    Behind him, his boys were cupping their hands around their mouths and calling out, "It's go time! Go time! It's showtime!"

    Drake's wardrobe for his performance was ready for him in his dressing room, but he decided to go out onstage as he was dressed. He said that he didn't want to keep the crowd waiting any longer than they had already.

    His crew were eager to help, making sure he had his mic and bottled water. Drake briefly kissed Mia on the lips and gave her hand a final squeeze before turning and stepping up so he could relieve Future of the overtime he'd just completed on the stage.

    Future jogged down the short metal steps. He was tall with mocha brown skin and long dreads pulled back into a low ponytail. Beads of sweat graced his forehead. He beamed at Mia. "Long time no see."

    She hugged him, cringing at how drenched his t-shirt was. "Thank you so much, for being willing to perform a few more songs."

    "If you're the reason he was late, I would have been late, too," Future said, just as his female assistant walked up to him.

    The tour manager advised Mia that she could watch Drake from the side of the stage or from the main floor. She chose to watch him from the side of the stage, so she could have moments with him in between sets.

    Tank and Chubbs headed to the main floor, where they would help stadium security control the crowd.

    Instead of shouting out a greeting to the crowd, Drake launched into the song "Legend." Acapella.

    Mia remained in the corridor for a minute, just listening to his voice. Listening to him without the distraction of his good looks or charisma. Whenever she heard him rap or sing, she felt nothing but a sense of pride. Two years ago, if you'd asked her to list ten Drake songs off the top of her head, she wouldn't have been able to do it. She hadn't paid close enough attention to his music; that wasn't because she didn't think his music was good. She'd just been so focused on getting her own music out there, that the music of other artists often went in one ear and out the other. She wished that she'd started listening to his music earlier. He wrote, sang, and rapped some of the most relatable songs she'd ever heard in her life.

    She climbed up the short metal stairs, trying to keep the clanging of her heels to a minimum. Smoothing her hands down her patterned jeans, she moved to stand on the side of the stage. Red lights rotated overhead, casting their beams across both the stage and the audience.

    Drake stood at the center of the stage, slowly singing the chorus to "Legend." He sang the song in a slower tempo than the version his fans would have heard on the album. That was another thing she admired about him. As an artist, he tended to change up the arrangement of his songs. It wasn't uncommon for him to change the arrangement so much that it almost had the sound of a completely different song. It was similar to an artist creating a masterpiece painting, and then creating the same painting using completely different colors or a different medium - giving the audience a different way to look at the beautiful words he'd put together.

    That is your boyfriend up there, she thought just as he looked her way and grinned while singing into the microphone. The glance was brief. It wasn't long before he swiveled his gaze back out over the audience who vibed with him and sang along with every word, including the ad libs - the oohs and the ahhs and the yeahs. She couldn't help but to feel proud of him. He worked hard for years, and look where he's gotten. I've seen tapes of his earlier shows, and he didn't have half the confidence he has now. Look at the way he commands the stage, even when he's just standing there. She tried to imagine herself standing on that stage, tried to imagine a crowd of people singing along with words she'd written.

    Writing music had always been her dream, but the idea of singing the words she'd written to an audience was starting to appeal to her. She could sing the words as she'd intended, without any changes being made to them. During live performances, she could switch up their arrangement in different ways, the same way Drake did. There was a certain freedom that would come with singing her own words. It was a way to assure that the only changes made to the song were the changes she wanted to make.

    She bit her bottom lip as she watched Drake slide the microphone from its stand and move around the stage. Could singing on a stage like this, in front of a crowd this large, be in her future? Could this be what she was meant to do?