Fireworks 3 and 4

Chapter Twenty-Four

    "Play it back for me one time."

    Almost instantly, moody music started playing over the speakers. Drake sat in a chair with his head ducked down. His cell phone was on silent, but his phone screen continued to light up the room. Everyone was talking about it: the growing tension between the Nicki Minaj and Mia. The media lived to pit two women against each other, it seemed. Competition could never be healthy and inspirational when women were concerned; the media's first angle was always to paint a catfight. The media's first intent always seemed to be to demean the work of two women, whereas men were cutthroat and competitive, and yet take photos together later that evening looking like broskis.

    He wanted to reach out Mia, to let her know not to let the bullshit get to her. Knowing her, she was letting it get to her but fighting to handle it herself. But he had said everything he could think of to say. He had told her that he thought they were stronger together. He had told her that he couldn't stand to live without her. She still felt the need to fulfill some kind of quest, some type of mission to prove that she had it as an artist. She feels the need to prove to the world that she doesn't need me in order to succeed. Which I completely understand. As much as I love Wayne, after awhile I felt like I had to venture out on my own, from underneath his umbrella of protection and make sure that I really had it. But I'm not just her homeboy, I'm her man. I'm someone who is supposed to be there holding her up. Aren't I?

    "Just call her, man," Noah advised. "You're going to anyway. And that way, you've gotten it out of the way and you can get back to focusing on the music instead of dwelling on it."

    Sound advice. Then again, advice from 40 was always sound.

    Drake fidgeted with his phone. He would have preferred for Mia to reach out to him, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. Not any time soon, with whatever she was trying to prove to the world and herself. If communication was going to happen, it was on him to initiate. So he did. With his eyes on Noah, he lifted the cell phone to his ear. Pick up, pick up, pick up, he wished silently, closing his eyes.

    "Hello?"

    The sound of her voice reveled the magic pouring out of Noah's speakers. His hand tightened around his phone. Waves of longing rolled over him, and he struggled to find his own voice. "Mia."

~~~~~~

    Hearing him made her want to throw all of her plans to the wind and run to him. Instead, she remained in the hotel room chair with her feet firmly planted on the floor.

    "I didn't think you were going to answer."

    "I wouldn't ignore you."

    "You have before."

    A corner of her mouth lifted. "Touche," she said softly.

    "How are you doing?" His voice was so timid, so small. As if he was afraid of saying the wrong thing.

    "I'm...okay."

    He paused before responding. Then he confessed, "I heard about the photoshoot."

    She closed her eyes. All of Bri's advice played and replayed over in her head. "I messed up. Probably for the hundredth time this week."

    "I mess up all the time," he told her. "No one knows that better than you."

    "Aubrey."

    "I just...I wanted to let you know that if you want to talk about it, I'm here." She started to speak but he interrupted her. "You're not supposed to be leaning on me or some shit, I know. But you can't keep shouldering everything on your own, baby girl. That's not how I got to where I am. Don't you see all of the people who are around me at any given moment? You don't think they got an earful whenever the industry tried fucking me over?"