“Okay; what if we start towing the cars that are in the street and in the fire lane? That’ll clear some of the crowd out.” Stassi hated to ruin somebody’s night like that, but it was either sacrifice a few or the whole damn crowd was going home. “I just need another two hours to close out this show. Please. I’m desperate here, and I’m at your mercy.”
The fireman removed his helmet, and Stassi was instantly taken aback. The man underneath this suit was so handsome that she was instantly distracted. He was the type of Black man that hadn’t been seen since the 90s. Brown-skinned, tall, with dark eyes that were made to stare into. He was fine, and his fine ass was about to shut her down.
“I…umm…” Stassi shook her head, refocusing as she grasped at straws. “Please. The owners of this event had to leave. His son died tonight. I was left in charge. If I fuck this up…” Stassi sighed in frustration. “I just can’t fuck this up.”
The fireman was brooding as he stood over her. The dip in his brow expressed his irritation.
“If the fire lane and the overflow aren’t cleared out in half an hour, I’m shutting you down and writing you a citation,” he warned.
“That’s all I need! You have no idea how you just saved my life. Thank you so much for not being an asshole!” she said, smile returning as she backpedaled away from him in a hurry.
“Yeah, you’re welcome,” the man said, unenthused. “I’ma swing back around personally to make sure it’s done.”
Stassi held up praying hands and shook them in his direction. “I swear, it’ll be taken care of. Thank you!”
A voice was in her ear again, beckoning her. Stassi was a puppet on a string tonight. “What now?” she shouted into the headset. She gave the firefighter one final glance. “I’m sorry, I got to go, but thank you!”
She turned around and rushed back toward the dressing rooms. Kiara Da’vi had arrived. She heard the commotion of the up-and-coming R&B sensation before she even made it to the door. She was known for her diva-like expectations. It would take all of Stassi’s patience to put up with it.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are, sweetheart, but I don’t let randoms style my hair. This blonde wig doesn’t even fit my aesthetic.”
Stassi rolled her eyes as she paused outside the door. She didn’t knock this time. Instead, she took a deep breath before barging inside.
“Hi, Kiara, I’m Stassi. I’m running the show tonight. We need you in and out of hair and makeup in 30 minutes,” Stassi said.
“Running the show?” Kiara asked with a laugh. “I mean, considering that my brother is a partner in this business, I’d say you don’t really run shit, sis. More like this my show, and you didn’t even know it. All this shit in here is done wrong. Where’s my catering? My hair stylist? My Fiji? Matter of fact, where’s Day? He knows what’s on my rider,” the singer shot back.
“Day isn’t here. I’m here, and rider or no rider, brother or no brother, you’re late. You have a packed house out there, and they’ve been waiting. I had the house team pre-style a wig for you and…”
“Girl, get me the boss. If Day isn’t here, where’s Demi? I’m not using no new stylist that I’ve never worked with before. No offense,” Kiara said, looking at MiMi before crossing stubborn arms over her chest.
“None taken. I’m paid regardless,” MiMi answered.
“Listen, I don’t know what Day and Demi tolerate when you work with them, but tonight I’m in charge. You can either sit in that chair and let MiMi get you together, or you can risk letting your hair stylist start from scratch. Your choice! But if you’re not on stage in 30 minutes, you won’t be hitting the stage at all, and you can explain to your fans why in an apology post on IG. It won’t be me getting cleared online for flaking, so it’s on you.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Kiara asked. “Let me call Day. The nigga around here, giving out fake power when heknows I call all my own shots around here. Was just in this nigga bed, I’ll be damned if I take orders from his assistant. Ain’t you the same bitch he called the help?” The girl snickered, and Stassi saw red.
That hit a nerve. Not only had Kiara Da’vi staked claim over Day, but she was throwing shade. Kiara was marking the man and the territory, and Stassi felt her temper rage. Day had just professed his affection for her in front of thousands of people, and now here another woman was throwing her weight around the room because she was clearly fucking him.
“Are you done?” Stassi asked. “You just wasted five minutes. Now, you got 25 minutes to be on stage or I’m shutting this down.” Stassi stood her ground and kept her poker face strong. She was rattled, but nobody in the room could tell. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction, but in the back of her mind, questions about Day’s relationship with this woman were nagging, and a rehash of the humiliation she had felt when he had belittled her on the radio flashed through her mind.
Stassi walked out of the room and prayed that Kiara Da’vi would comply.
Difficult-ass bitch,Stassi thought. The sooner this night was over, the better. Manning this job was a huge responsibility. She just wanted to make it through the evening without messing anything up. Demi and Day had enough to deal with without worrying about losing money tonight.
Chapter 3
The silence that filled the car was one that only visited when death called. It was the kind of silence that came from not knowing what to say. It was the kind that was summoned when something hurt too badly to be explained. There was no consoling it. There was no ignoring it, no dulling it or treating it. It just remained, and it was immeasurable.
Demi’s eyes burned. He was filled with an unyielding anguish. It was like someone was holding a branding iron to his chest, marking him with a burn that would never heal. It was the invisible mark of a grieving parent. Demi hadn’t even known that a feeling like this could exist. To think, his world was ordinary just a few hours ago. It felt like another lifetime ago. Happiness. Wholeness. Lying next to the woman he loved. Yeah, that shit was an alternate universe. It may as well have been a dream because, in this reality, he could never see himself feeling anything except brokenness.
He felt himself driving, but he had no idea how he hadn’t wrecked his car. His mind was void of logic. His eyes were on the road ahead of him, but he didn’t see anything. Images of DJ flashed in his mind the entire way. Lauren sat in the passenger seat. If he didn’t smell her signature perfume, he wouldn’t even know she was there. Her silence matched his. They were both vanishing before each other’s eyes.
Day followed in Lauren’s car all the way home. Demi was afraid of this house. Suddenly, it was intimidating to be inside the space where his son had taken his life. He turned off the car and neither he nor Lauren moved. He could hear DJ’s laughter ringing in his ears. He could hear their playful banter. He could hear his son being braggadocios through his headset as he played video games. Those were the sounds that used to exist inside this house. It was unbelievable that he would never get to hear those sounds again. If he had known the last time was going to be the last time, he would have cherished the noise. Memories were all he had now. He didn’t even have Lauren to share this emptiness with. He had given her up before realizing what they would have to face. The boy in him needed the woman he had hurt now more than ever, and he was too proud to tell her. As he glanced over at her, he was sure she was too destroyed to care.
He opened the door, and his feet left trails through fresh snow as he rounded the car to open Lauren’s door. Day pulled in behind them and exited as well.
No words, just actions, just zombies as he held out his hand for her. She stared at it, almost like she was afraid to take hold of him.
