A D'yani Fanfic.
I was so out of it that I didn't even notice when the stoplight switched from yellow to red.
Struggling to act on my fight or flight, I have no choice but to run straight into the car in front of me.
Oh fuck.
Just one of those fucki...
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📍St. Andrew, Jamaica | Kingston
A Few Days Later | Thursday, April 25th
2 PM ⏰
"Okay, so right now we have about three songs confirmed...out of twelve" Anya announces, tapping her pen repeatedly against her padded notebook.
Here we go again, same argument, different day.
"Dat nuh bad enuh, that gives us nine songs to work with, and we have until August" Makaia defends, leaning closer to me.
Watch her eye dem a wonder...
She scans over the screen on my laptop, before looking away with her face screwed up, presumably because she caught a glimpse of my most recent message thread.
Me and me ooman a reason.
She nuh have nuh business inna dis...
"I like Ambiance, I think it should be the first song and the leading single" she volunteers her opinion, sliding her rolling chair to the other side of the room.
Goddess fi me money, all that's left is to film the video.
"No it cyaa be Ambiance, Goddess a di bigger track, in my opinion, sets the tone for the brand we're trying to build around him" Anya ventures, shooting a confused look at Makaia who's now separated herself from the group.
She'd been moving weirdly since she came into the studio, but her behavior had just reached an all-time level.
This wasn't like her, she was acting out of character.
But I wasn't going to be the one to inquire why.
Especially since she fuck wid Camille weh day.
"Yuh good?" Anya questions, lifting her right brow.
"Yea, of course...did just need likkle air" Makaia replies, pointing upwards toward the A/C unit that hung directly above her.
Her voice croaks near the end, a telltale sign that she's lying, but neither of us seems to care to find out if she is.
All me?
Me naave di time fi certain fuckery.
"Anyways," Anya goes on, "Let's see how Ambiance and Goddess continue to compete on the charts, then we can decide where to go from there."
She stands from her chair, slipping the pen and pad neatly into the front pouch of her handbag.
"Yuh sir!" Anya begins once she's settled.
"Please. Please! Start to work on those other nine songs, I would love to have something to hand into your label by the end of summer..." she urges, hands set firm on her hips.