Fireworks 3 and 4

Chapter Twenty-Three

    After hearing the brief, secret knock, Bri answered the hotel room door. "You're back already?" she gasped, gently patting her baby on the back. She stepped back to allow Mia in. "I thought photoshoots took, like...forever and a day. Desirae texted to say her flight was delayed. She's going to be later than expected."

    Mia breezed in, still fuming from the shoot. "Oh? Can't wait to see her."

    "Damn, the hell is wrong with you?" Bri demanded.

    "I showed up to the photoshoot and Nicki was there."

    "Ah! Really?" Bri followed her further into the room. "And did you have her autograph something for m-"

    Mia turned a furious glare back to her friend.

    Bri sobered immediately. "Shit, never mind." The expression on her face brightened. "On another note, your outfit is fucking fire. Yaaas, keep strutting for me."

    Knee-high boots covered dark denim and drooping chains covered a belly that the metallic midriff top had neglected. Mia's face was also beat to the high heavens, and her edges were laid, complementing a high ponytail. Hoop earrings finished the look, but the last thing on her mind was fashion. "After having the nerve to try sliding in Aubrey's messages and after pulling our joint track and preventing its release, she really had the nerve to try me today."

    "Something tells me that you tried her right back," Bri said, seating herself at the hotel room desk.

    "The photoshoot was supposed to be me only. I get there, and she's just there."

    "Is that a 'Yes, I did try her'?" Bri asked.

    "That's an 'I was caught off-guard and didn't know how the hell to react," Mia grumbled, walking over to the bed and collapsing on it. "She was going off about how I'm not on her level and how I fucked my way to the top. Like...just because I'm in a relationship with him and he's helping me, I can never compare to her."

    "You don't have to compare to her," Bri reasoned. "I hate when people act that way, like two rap bitches can't exist. Like two pop star divas can't co-exist. You have two completely different flows, two completely different sounds and styles. Do you look like her doppelganger, to the point where it's irritating sometimes? Sure, but you've also carved out your own spot in the game. You have your own audience and your own following. And she's doing her own thing."

    "That may be the case, but I don't take it lightly when someone credits all of my success to the fact that I'm dating the hottest guy in hip hop. So I hit her back and accused her of using Aubrey early on in her career."

    Bri smacked her forehead with her free hand. "Mia."

    "She did, and I don't care what anyone else has to say about it."

    "They were both just...playful and shit. And joking."

    "They were both thirsty for free publicity," Mia amended. "And because they includes her, she shouldn't have gotten on my case for who I'm fucking, just because she wishes she was lucky enough to be fucking him. She had her chance."

    "You're sounding about as mature as my baby right now," Bri mused. "Who are we even talking about? Nicki? She wouldn't be Nicki if there wasn't a little bitchiness to her. And what are you mad at her for? Coming at Aubrey? Bitch, I have a husband and a baby, and if Aubrey just gave me one look – one – bitch, I'm waving bye-bye to our friendship. Peace out, deuces, I love ya but I gotta ride that ride – at least one time."

    Mia rolled her eyes, grabbed a pillow, and plopped it on top of her face.

    "Okay I was just joking about that last part," Bri said, poking her with a toe.

    "I just feel like..."

    "Feel like what, honey boo-boo chile?"

    Mia laughed, suddenly feeling silly about all of it. "I don't know. I'm...out here, you know? Trying to make it on my own, without Aubrey. I don't want to have to lean on him, that's why I told him I need some time away from him. But it feels like because we're already linked, I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't. I just want respect. I just want my own wave, completely separate from his. I want to be acknowledged, separate from him."

    "I remember a time when you didn't care what kind of acknowledgement you got," Bri said softly. "You just played music to played music, and sang to sing. Because it made you feel happy. Not because of what someone like Nicki would say about you. At the end of the day, who cares what people think about you? You're making a living doing what you want to do, which is more than a lot of us can say."

    "You're right."

    "She really said you weren't on her level?" Bri asked curiously.

    Mia sighed, pulling the pillow off of her face. "With such a stank look, too. Like I was a bug on her shoe."

    "Well...when it comes to things like this, you have to carry yourself with class and dignity, girl. You can't let her or anyone else rile you up. You came bursting through the door like some bully stole your chocolate milk at school or something. I don't really buy into that 'level' bullshit, but if I did then I would say to start with how you react to and handle people coming at you. As far as I'm concerned, this Nicki photoshoot shit was a test. What has Aubrey been telling you this entire time? That no matter how nice you are, people in the industry will look to take you down. They will look to throw roadblocks in your way, and will be there snapping photos when you have the mental breakdown they brought on." Bri shook her head.

    "It was foul for her to go after Aubrey," Mia maintained.

    "You know what? It was. But your man is fine. Get used to that."

    Mia sat up and stared at her best friend.

    "He's not just kind of fine," Bri emphasized. "He's majorly-"

    "He's fine. Yeah. I get it." Mia stood up from the bed and walked over to the window.

    Bri watched her quietly.

    Mia was silent for several minutes. The only sound in the room was the baby's soft gurgling. Only an hour ago, she felt like her anger had merit. Her friend's tone indicated that Mia was in the wrong, not Nicki. She couldn't even begin to wrap her mind around that. It felt so wrong. A single tear slid down her cheek while she peered out of the hotel room window. "All I want is to call him," she said. "Hear his voice, hear his words of encouragement."

    "You're the one who has it in her head that she has to be this boss ass bitch," Bri pointed out. "He doesn't care about any of that. He just loves you for you. So if you want to be with him, just be with him and fuck all of this other bullshit." Several seconds too late, she pressed her hands over her baby's ears.

    "I can't do that," Mia said, shaking her head.

    Bri groaned in frustration.

    Mia did, too. Because as much as she wanted to simply hear her man's voice, or feel his arms around her, protecting her from the rest of the world, this was something she had to get through on her own. Bri had several points, but there is one that sticks out among the rest. Boss ass bitches aren't crybabies. So whether or not I'm in the wrong, or Nicki is, I need to grow the fuck up and get my mind right. Exchanging barbed words with her shouldn't rock me this hard. If I hope to have any kind of success, I have to have a much thicker skin.

    "Not to mention the fact that if I were you and Nicki, I wouldn't be mad at each other," Bri added. "I'd be pissed at the magazine, the photographer and the editors. Because it's clear that they set you guys the fuck up. And that's that shit that I don't like."

    The look in Mia's eyes hardened, and she turned back to look at her friend.

    Bri returned the frank stare. "Yeah, I said what I said."

    Another point for Bri, Mia thought, a frown deepening on her face.