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"I remember coming to this park when I was about nine; watching the baseball, football or soccer games looking at the smiling faces of every child on this side of time. I always wondered why couldn't that be me? Why wasn't I the child that woke up in the morning looking for something to smile about? I also used to watch the cars pass by telling myself to just run out into the street to die. I was tired."
Shantey was seated in the editing room with her filmmaker Jamar doing some more editing for her upcoming documentary. She had on a yellow G.O.A.T hoodie over her sleeveless spandex biker romper and black Balenciaga logo-print leather flat scandals that showcases her ombré pedicure matching ombré nail acrylics. She has her hair sleeked up in a topknot bun. The initial necklace Romeo bought for her birthday remains around her neck and large bamboo earrings.
"I'm feeling the edit," she approves, nodding her head. Past few weeks, she's been very active in the edit process pertaining to her own story. "I want the instrumental to Get In The Way to play throughout the documentary, but when I'm talking, we can lower the volume just so my words aren't drowned out by the music."
Jamar nodded and starts the editing Shantey suggested. "You good at this. You tryna take my job?" He jokes, playfully side eying her.
"Of course. . . not," she breaks into a light laughter with him. "I'm just taking this documentary seriously. It's about me. It gotta be right. No missing details."
"You know, I never wanted to say anything while we were filming but. ." Jamar locks eyes with her, "I'm sorry... for what you went through. I woulda never thought you dealt with any of that."
Shantey places her hand on his arm and smile. "You have nothing to be sorry about, JR. What I went through; the things I've dealt with, I made it through and I'm here now. Deciding to do this is giving everyone a better understanding of me and who Shantey Washington is."
"They'll definitely get a better understanding after this release. I'm sure of it."
Shantey phone rings before she could respond. It's the person she's been waiting on for the past few hours. She steps out the control room to talk in privacy. She places the phone on her ear and quickly greeted with, "I got your voicemail. What is it?"