Fireworks 3 and 4

Chapter Sixteen

    "Work, work, work, work, work, work, he seh mi haffi work, work, work, work, work work, work-" Rihanna abruptly stopped singing and lowered the microphone. She twisted around and fixed her beautiful green eyes on Drake. "What are you doing?"

    "What do you mean, what am I doing?"

    "You're all the way back there when you're supposed to be right behind me," Rihanna explained. "Where is your fucking head at?"

    He shook his head and backed away from her.

    She rolled her eyes and started pacing. 

    "We've done this performance a hundred times, easily," he told her. "There's not even a reason for us to rehearse it."

    "Obviously there is a reason for us to rehearse it if we've performed this a hundred times and you're still fucking up."

    Without responding, he withdrew his cell phone from his sweatpants pocket and checked his messages. As expected, none from Mia.

    "You're still stressing over your girl going back home." The words were spoken as a statement, not a question.

    He sighed heavily and turned his back to Rihanna. "She didn't just go back home. She moved out."

    "And that is why you're dancing five miles away from me all of a sudden." 

    "I fucked up," he muttered. "Several times. I keep trying not to, but...I really fucked up this time."

    "This is a rehearsal, not a therapy session," Rihanna told him. "You need to stop sulking and get your head back in the game. She will be waiting for you when you get back home. Make things right then."

    Gossip blogs were still running with stories about Drake and Rihanna's rekindled romance. If they were all over his social media feeds, then they would be all over Mia's social media feeds. He knew how this shit worked; fans and non-fans were probably tagging her in photos of Drake and Rihanna. Miserable people liked to help make others feel miserable. They liked to rub peoples' faces in their failures. There was no telling how much bullshit she was currently faced with, and he wasn't there to help her through it. Instead he was here, onstage with an ex-ting when he should be back home with his main and only ting. Instead he was here, continuing to fabricate a relationship that had never been quite official. All for the sake of making a little money, all for the sake of furthering a career that was supposed to have been grounded in authenticity. He could feel Rihanna's eyes boring holes into him as he checked gossip blog sites and fan pages to see what was being said.

    Shaking her head and mumbling under her breath, she turned and stalked off the stage.

    He lifted his eyes briefly, watching her exit. Then he moved to the front of the stage and sat down on the edge of it, returning to his text inbox. There were messages there, a message from his mother, a message from a few of his boys back at the house. According to his security team, Mia was completely moved out and there wasn't a trace of her left behind. Even her toiletries had been removed from the master bathroom. He dreaded how empty that house would feel without her.

    By the time Rihanna returned to the stage, Drake was still seated on the edge. "Are you ready to get back to rehearsing?"

    He turned his head, having made a decision that he would've died for. "I'm ready to get back home," he said, standing and pocketing his cell phone.

    Rihanna's slender brows drew together. "What?"

    "I'm sorry. I have to cancel the rest of my appearances."

    Her mouth dropped open. "But your contract-"

    "I'll have to pay an arm and a leg, I know."

    She shook her head. "Are you serious right now?"

    He shrugged and gave a sad, boyish smile. "I can't imagine my life without her. With all of the shit I've done, I never would have thought that I would be blessed enough to have a woman that completes me, but...she does. So while I wish I could honor my arrangement with you, I had to take a step back and think about what really matters. She matters. I have to get back to her."

~~~~~~

    Getting back to Mia was easier said than done, when he didn't know where her new place was and she wasn't answering his text messages. She'd also gone ghost on social media, not having posted in weeks. Drake asked his boys if any forwarding address had been left, maybe for items she hadn't been able to move – no forwarding address had been left. So he called and texted, and called and texted some more. He begged her to talk to him. Nothing.

    Odell sat with him poolside, his curly blonde tips soaking wet from having swam in the water. "It's all going to work out, brother."

    "Is it?" Drake asked, staring out towards the pool.

    "She just needs some time to cool off, that's all," Odell said confidently. "Who can stay mad at you, man? The ladies always come back."

    Drake shook his head, because he knew better. "You weren't around the last time she was this mad at me."

    "Damn, and you didn't learn your lesson from that time?"

    Rolling his eyes, Drake leaned his head back.

    "Sorry, man." Odell scratched his head. His brown skin glistened beneath the sun's rays.

    The media was overly interested in the friendship between Drake and Odell. Odell often posted selfies from the YOLO Estate, which had people questioning why he was at Drake's house so often. Because Odell had an eclectic personality, and what some considered "suspect behavior," there were of course rumors being circulated by haters – but at the end of the day, Odell was like a brother to Drake. They could relate to each other on a multitude of levels, and as wild and crazy as Odell could be, he had these amazing moment of clarity where he gave phenomenal advice.

    "Maybe you need to make some kind of gesture to her or something."

    "Maybe I'm not real enough for her," Drake mused aloud, his eyes closed. "Maybe I tried to be as real as I could when I first got into this shit, but somewhere along the line I lost my fucking way. Not even maybe. I've lost my fucking way, and I don't know how to even begin to get back on track."

    "Just...calm down, man," Odell said, sounding concerned. "Take a step back and just breathe."

    "I can't lose her."

    "You won't."

    "I already have," Drake insisted. "I don't even know where the fuck she is."

    "So we find out."

    Drake opened his eyes and arched a look at Odell. "How?"

    Odell shrugged. "The paparazzi are going to be on her, I'm sure. Track her movements. See what area she's staying around. And...she has friends, right? Family?"

    Drake sat up straight, his eyes wide. "Shit. Of course."

    Odell's brows shot up. "Something came to you."

    "Yeah," Drake said, nodding as a smile curved his lips. "Bri."