"Oh, my goodness! I cannot believe this is happening!" Fantasia murmurs, pacing her dressing room floor, grateful and enthusiastic. "God is so good to me." The singer is about to perform at the renowned Madison Square Garden arena for the Rhythm & Blues Festival. Fantasia could only dream about her voice reaching an audience outside the church. But who could've imagined that her dream would lead her to perform in front of nearly 19,000 fans on a stage of this magnitude? Fantasia tries to manage her emotions as she searches for her phone, which she needs as a distraction. However, after checking every possible location, the singer realizes her phone is missing.
"That's weird. I know I had my phone with me. Either my team has it, or I left it at the hotel." She mumbles under her breath, resting her hands on her hips and furrowing her brow in confusion. She sweeps her eyes across the room, mentally retracing her steps. Ultimately, Fantasia chooses to ignore it and enjoy her alone time. The singer sinks into the comfortable couch in the corner and begins to shake her legs in an attempt to soothe herself. The room is uncomfortably silent, and Fantasia begins to wonder where her crew may be. She sent them away because she wanted time to get into the right mindset, but that was more than twenty minutes ago. Fantasia grows restless without her team's chatter or a phone to occupy her.
As she obsesses over the show's choices, her leg shaking intensifies. Even though Fantasia and her crew put in a lot of time and effort in creating a solid set list—complete with fireworks and a stage lift—she still couldn't escape the constant mental chatter. All she really wants is for her performance to provide an unforgettable experience.
However, her anxiety stems from more than just a desire to make a positive impression. This event is her final attempt to gain some recognition in the ruthless music industry. Her primary goal as an artist is to create music that she and her audience can relate to, but she is encountering a lot of roadblocks. Certain producers and executives would frequently dismiss her musical instincts and abilities since she was relatively new to the game. Even though she had five years of experience, several chart-topping songs, and thousands of records sold,. Rather than collaborate with the singer, they took over the recording sessions and disregarded any ideas Fantasia had for her sound. They often made her feel out of place. When she spoke out, her record company told her to relax and let the masters do their thing, whatever that meant. This was not the dream she had fought so hard to fulfill.
True artistry and good music were overshadowed by toxic egos and money-hungry jerks. The enjoyment of making music was being diminished by the setbacks. She had no doubt that the music industry had a way of tainting innocent souls, and she didn't want that to happen to her. However, the small monster on her shoulder became more persuasive with each passing day. At that point, she made up her mind to gracefully exit the music industry if her performance went unrecognized.
The sudden knock on the dressing room door interrupts Fantasia's frantic thoughts. The person softly cracks open the door and peeks inside.
"Miss Barrino, can I come in?" they ask.
"Sure!" she says. The door fully opens, and the worker enters the dressing room. Fantasia's gaze swiftly travels up and down the woman's body. Her caramel complexion sparkles and glows underneath the room's lighting. The lady wears a black t-shirt that is slightly rolled up, showing her petite yet voluptuous figure. Fantasia couldn't help but notice her perky chest, which had the word "Crew" written in white on it. Half of the worker's braids are tied back into a ponytail, with the rest cascading down to her upper hip. Two waist tattoos poke out from her green mid-rise cargo pants, just barely visible through the braids. The pants fit like a glove, accentuating her legs and thighs. She pairs her outfit with black and white Van Old Skools. Fantasia gets up from the couch and approaches her.
