Fireworks 1 and 2

Jungle: Chapter Forty-One

    "Have you ever had to tell someone something but not know the words to say?"

    As if on cue, a baby wailed in the background. Bri's voice followed shortly after. "Bitch, hello. I have a whole baby right here, and me and Shawn weren't planning on having any babies."

    Mia laughed nervously while pacing the length of her hotel room. "Oh yeah, right."

    "What is this about?" Bri demanded.

    "I went to a club with Nicki and Kenneth tonight," Mia started as she paced.

    "Nicki's my bitch. But go ahead." There were cooing sounds in the background.

    Switching her cell phone to the other ear, Mia walked over to the balcony doors and slid them open. She stepped out onto the balcony. "Zach LaVine was there."

    "Zach who?"

    "Bulls player. He's been the slum dunk champion for all star weekend, like...a few years in a row right now."

    "High-yellow nigga. Right, I'm with you."

    Mia laughed. "I was dancing with Nicki, and then he came up behind me and started dancing."

    There was silence on the other end of the line.

    "Bri?"

    "Oh, I'm sorry," Bri said in mock apology. "I was waiting for you to continue by saying that you walked away from him immediately."

    "I danced with him."

    "What?!"

    "I didn't know it was him. I was buzzed, I was feeling good..."

    "No, no, no, no, Mia. Wait." More sounds could be heard in the background. "I'm putting the baby in the crib. And then I'm going to go out to the garage. Do you know why?"

    Mia rolled her eyes. "Why?" she asked, playing along.

    "Because my poor baby needs to sleep and I don't want him hearing me screaming and cussing you the fuck out," Bri responded. Classic Bri. "Hold on just a minute, because I'm going to deal with you in a minute, Mia."

    While Mia waited, she tilted her head back, enjoying the feel of the night East Coast breeze that ruffled her hair.

    A series of doors opened and closed on Bri's end, and then Bri asked straight out, "Bitch are you crazy?"

    "Bri-"

    "You are dating Drake, Mia. Just in case you forgot and needed a reminder, I am here to remind you. You are dating Drake. Do you know how many women in this country - no - in the world would just love to be in your spot right now? Not just normal bitches like me. Celebrity bitches. Bitches who have access to him. All you have to do is fuck up just once, and he will have women laid out at his feet just waiting. How could you? How could you dance with another nigga? Have I not taught you better?"

    "I wasn't thinking clearly."

    "You weren't thinking at all."

    "I haven't even finished the story," Mia muttered.

    Bri made a noise expressing disgust and frustration. "Add anything on top of dancing with another nigga, and you're going to put me into an early grave."

    "Zach kissed me, even after I told him I had a boyfriend. I slapped him, but...a photographer took a picture of it. The kiss. The slap. Everything."

    "Oh my God. Oh my God. Hoe mah gawd." Bri stopped abruptly. Then she said, "I'm almost scared to ask. But how did Drake respond once you told him?"

    Mia tugged on a few strands of hair. "I haven't."

    Silence. Then, "Do you know I almost threw my phone at the wall just now?" Bri paused. "I'm serious. You almost owed me a new phone just now, because I cannot believe you! What the hell are you waiting for? Are you waiting for BallerAlert or TheShadeRoom to break the news to him before you do? Because you know they will, Mia. They live for that shit. They live to stir up drama. Oh my fucking God. You're going to lose him."

    "I don't know what to do, Bri. You're making me feel worse."

    "How do you think you should feel?" Bri hissed at her vehemently. "I mean, seriously. Drake, Mia. You date Drake."

    "I know. I know. Can you please stop repeating that?"

    "I'm trying to. I am. But...Jesus. Okay." Bri sighed. "Well I mean, first things first, you have to tell him. I mean...you have to. A photographer was taking pictures? Do you know how quick club photographers are to post shit? They can't wait to show off photos of celebrities. And once they put the photo up, the gossip sites are all over it, Mia. And I don't want to make you feel worse than you already do. Okay? I know you. I know you've already kicked yourself in the ass over this. But you do not want Drake to find this out from anyone else but you. Okay?"

    Tears started in Mia's eyes. "How do I tell him?"

    "Bitch, at this point it doesn't matter how you tell him. As long as you're the first one to do it."

    Mia rolled her eyes heavenward. "You're right."

    "Of course I'm right," Bri exclaimed. "You need to hang up with me right now and call his ass. If he doesn't answer, guess what? Hang the fuck up and call again. I don't care if you're interrupting him while he's playing video games. I don't care if you're waking him up. I don't care. Right now, you're in a race to tell him the fucking truth. And if you lose this race, it could cost you your entire relationship."

    "Okay."

    "Damn. I wanted to check in with you, see how you were doing, and all of that. Talk about Nicki and Bey. But time is really of the essence, here. So we'll catch up next time, okay?"

    "Yeah," Mia said softly.

    "I love you girl, and I hope it all works out."

    "Love you too. Thank you so much, Bri." Mia ended the call and stared down at her phone, taking a deep, shaky breath.

    Tonight, she was supposed to have Skyped with him, but couldn't bring herself to do it. Skyping meant looking him in the eyes...sort of. She felt like guilt would have been written all over her face. It was now after three o' clock in the morning. Although he was a night owl, the tour life caused him to adjust his sleeping schedule. By now, he was most likely asleep.

    But like Bri said, it doesn't matter if he's sleeping. She called him and held the phone to her ear, looking out over the New York skyline that her hotel was a part of. The headlights of cars an eternity below were pairs of tiny gleaming dots. She listened to the phone ring while looking down below. His voicemail greeting came on, and she tried calling him again. This time, the call went straight to voicemail. She tried several more times.

    On the seventh attempt, he picked up and croaked into the phone, "Hello?"

    "Hi," Mia greeted, her hand trembling around the phone. "It's me."