R.C.
SWEAT TRICKLED DOWN my forehead as I counted to five in my head. My breath was jagged as I clenched and unclenched my fists. I was trying with all my might to not start throwing punches, I didn't want to make a scene, but at the same time I did want to make a scene. Because they were really, really starting to irritate me. Now, I will admit that I am an easily irritable person by nature, but they were really going the extra mile to irritate me beyond belief. Here we were, backstage five minutes before our performance, arguing about literally nothing.
Bobby, the 'founder' of The Railroads, was trying to denounce my importance to the group. Complaining that I had too many solos, and that we needed to equally distribute. As if we couldn't have equally distributed during rehearsals. But no, five minutes before we went up on stage.
"It's a special performance R.C.. Sammy's cousin is coming and you know she's some big shot actress. He just wants the group to show all of our talents.. equally." Jordan tried to reason with me, while Bobby and Sammy conspired against me in the corner of the room. I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Jordan was such a kiss ass, literally.
"Why am I just learning about this now! We've rehearsed about ten times this week and this was never brought up! We're going up in less than five minutes and we're just supposed to figure shit out? Fuck that!" I argued weakly. Times like these really made me want to leave the group. Jordan was the only one that actually liked me to some extent, while Bobby and Sammy on the other hand, despised me. And for what? Because I was more talented than them, more attractive? That I stole the spotlight? It was such bullshit. I had a feeling they pulled this shit on purpose too.
"R.C. we don't have time for this, okay? Just go with it it's not that big of a deal." Jordan huffed, his tone laced with annoyance. It actually kind of hurt. I took deep breaths, trying to keep myself from lashing out, why did nothing ever work out for me?
"Y'all are up." Philly, the owner of the club said as he sent us a brief thumbs up. He gave us all a pat on the back for good luck as we lined up behind the closed curtain. Almost like clockwork, our miserable faces turned into an array of fake and forced smiles and grins.
Once the curtains opened, I walked up to mic, sending a wink to the ladies in the front row who squealed in excitement. My eyes scanned the audience, searching for the lady that we had to revamp our performance for. Of course I had known that Sammy had a famous cousin, he was constantly boasting about it. But I was still bitter about the fact that they wanted to rip my solo's away from me in her favour.
My eyebrows raised in surprise as my eyes locked with bright baby blue ones. I was taken aback by the fact that there was a white man in the middle of an audience filled with negroes. He looked back at me intently, his lips curving into a small friendly smile when he noticed I was staring directly at him. He looked vaguely familiar. Not familiar as if I had known him or spoken to him at some point in time, but familiar as in his face was definitely a face I've seen somewhere before. But I couldn't pinpoint exactly where it was that I had seen him.
I subconsciously licked my lips as I observed him for a tad bit longer. He was pretty attractive. His slicked back jet black hair, his blue eyes that were reminiscent of the ocean, his chiseled features. God, they were a work of art. His jaw was sharp and so was his nose, his eyes were the perfect shape and it kind of made me jealous. He looked like he stepped straight out of a renaissance painting.
I felt Jordan discreetly kick my shin, snapping me back to reality. I sent him a sharp glare before turning back to audience, sending them my best charming smile.
