Black Ice

viii

eight | crystal

The first show was a wreck. Real talk. The soundcheck and rehearsal went swimmingly, which made the result of the show an even bigger disappointment.

The microphones were all fucked up, making it harder for those who weren't familiar with us to really feel our essence.

Although it was popular to rap along with backing tracks, we always opted to rhyme ourselves.

After all, this wasn't karaoke.

However, with things playing out the way they did, a backing track would've done much of the heavy lifting to get us out of the ditch of technical difficulties.

The only working mic was Ishaan's, and our set became a track meet with the way we were passing it off like a baton.

Eventually, the problem was fixed, but by the time all the mics were hot, we were nearly halfway into our set.

What kind of shit was this? Problems like that are usually fixed within moments. There had to have been something fuckin' with our tech or even distracting our tech team.

Such unprofessionalism only pissed me off, but it fed into the energy I gave the audience. My hot head only multiplied the heat of spotlights, and soon enough, I was slipping out of the jacket that correlated with the group image.

This garnered whistles and barking from the audience, comprised mostly of men. Of course.

I got hot in the face, but there was nowhere to hide, and there was no time for modesty. "I Need You Tonight" was the next song on the setlist, and if anything, my unintentional strip tease primed the audience for what would be the "love songs" section of our set.

There was no feeling like seeing people rap along to your lyrics and try to reach out for you, but it got a bit overwhelming when I felt more like a piece of meat in a lion's den than I felt like a performer.

Holds on my hand became lingering and firm. Shouts of excited fans became shouts of just excited men.

I wasn't even wearing anything super sexy, in my opinion. A corset with a slight cropped cut and a skirt. With Timberland boots that matched the jacket that I came out of, I was just as— if not more— covered up as I'd be on a walk to the bodega. Why was it now that I felt shame?

Clamoring grew as the crowd started to push, rocking back and forth in a wave of hysteria. I started to sway with them, looking down at the few security guards hired by the venue for some help. They fought to push people back as Shaany began his verse.

Just as I started to worry that I'd be pulled off the stage by the grip of what felt like a thousand hands on my hand and forearm, an arm found my waist and I was swiftly extracted from the quicksand of eager audience members.

Tony picked me up and swung me away from the crowd all without missing a beat, joining Shaany and Ice on the line, "If that's your girl, she wasn't last night!"

Just as quickly as I was picked up, I was put down. Relief settled in me as I fell back into the fold of the show, and soon enough the instrumental of "All I Need" was bleeding into the current track.

"If you got a ill ass shorty wit'chu tonight, or she at the crib holdin' it down, keepin' it tight, this is what you tell her!" was Shaany's introduction just before the beat dropped, Need You disappearing as his version of a ballad reigned supreme.

"You're all that I need, I'll be there for you!
If you keep it real wit' me, I'll keep it real wit'chu!"

The crowd mirrored us, jumping up and down as we chanted the hook.