D.M.S.R. (BOOK 1) || PRN

(4) Busy Days

I closed the door and Uncle Dorian shot up in a surprise. He had the habit of falling asleep in any possible area back then. His teenage slacker ways didn't lessen until my career really took off and they did not wear off completely until he was closer to fifth decade on this planet. I just laughed and began to clean up his mess. Remember the limo that drove us home? Yeah, we only get to used it for Atlantic Records endorsed events. Ain't that a bitch? Uncle Dorian rented this nice little 1983 Honda Accord. I was trying to convince him to let me drive back to the hotel but he wasn't having it. We made it home in time and I was tired as hell.

That promotion tour was the most hectic thing I'd put my body through at the time. Touring had something to show my ass but for that time, the promotion was doing Michael Jackson dance numbers on my skull. By the third day, my entire was: Promo Schomo. All it really was, and still is, is a bunch of different people asking me the same damn questions for as many days as people in suits deem necessary. Nobody gives you a warning book before you sign that contract and I asked shy everyday. New, fresh, and hungry is what I was but reality was sprinting after me before I ever really got to sink my teeth into this industry. Anything after that was a blur. I was just that tired... Exhausted, if I may say.

"Cupcake, let's get up! We've got Mickey Stone then the video shoot." I felt the bed being shook, knocking me out of my short-lived slumber. I rolled over and shoved my head under the pillow but the blankets were yanked off of my body. I balled up into the fetal position. Cold air sent chills running up my thighs and upon my first shiver, I knew I wouldn't be going back sleep any time soon.

"Dorian, can I please get like five more minutes or like... Forever!"

He threw my blanket back on my bed and left. "No, get the hell up! When I come back in here you better be dressed and ready to go! You've got fifteen minutes, chop chop!" I heard the door slam and I sat up. Every time he pissed me off, I'd call him Dorian. Uncle Dorian as my uncle and Dorian as my manager were two different people. I love my Uncle Dorian to bits but Dorian knew all the wrong buttons to push.

He slammed the door shut, leaving me the space to get dressed in the outfit I preplanned prior to that morning. Of course, I put on my favorite accessory to top it all off. It was during this time that you hardly ever saw me without that bowler brimmed crown. I've always loved hats but that was my favorite. This particular day, I wore a baseball cap instead of my usual bowler. I put on my lip gloss, slipped on my grape jellies, and I was out of there! It's January and it was 65°F out in Los Angeles. I loved it because it had never been like that at home. That was my attitude before I learned off all of the shadier parts of the county. Prince's statement of taking it for what it was hadn't digested just yet.

During Uncle Dorian and I's limo ride, I sat quietly with my chin against the window.  I was watching all of the fancy cars drive past, daydreaming about the day I could afford one the luxurious items speeding past my window. The longer the drive went on, the more my mind wandered further away from my future and to my past. I missed my sister. I couldn't help but wonder what Aaliyah was doing. That quickly turned into me wondering how Alexis was. It was all I could do during that thirty minute ride to the studio lot where the show was shot. Eventually, I couldn't take it. I leaned up front and grabbed the car phone to dial the landline number for Aaliyah and I's room at my mother's house.

"Hello?" It wasn't Aaliyah's voice. It was Eddie's voice instead. Immediately questions popped into my mind as anger rose deep within me. I thought, What the hell is this buzzard doing on my phone? The number one rule Aaliyah and I always had was Eddie was not allowed in our room when we were not home. Leave it to a nine-year-old boy to find himself into the bedroom two twenty-something year old women no matter the warnings and locked doors.