Iwas stretched out on the couch happy to be back home finally after spending my entire day with Jatavia. My feet rested in her lap, as her thumbs pressed into the arches of my feet with the perfect amount of pressure.
“Fuck, you gone make a nigga sing Pancakes.” I closed my eyes enjoying the feel of her soft ass hands.
“Dreu, stay still.” She warned.
She twisted and squeezed her hands around my ankles then worked her way from my heel up to the ball of my foot. She dug her thumbs in just enough to make my toes curl.
“Mmm.” I grunted out.
She pressed her fingers harder into the balls of my feet and I howled.
“Dreu, I swear you dramatic as hell.” She giggled.
All day we’d been out, shopping, eating, and laughing at each other jokes like we had no responsibilities. We rode through the city, hitting a couple of popular boutiques. Before we drove back to Breeze City we stopped deep in L.A to get street tacos. It felt good to have a free day from the studio and just be in her presence.
I tried to return the favor. I reached down, caught one of her feet and started rubbing a little clumsily since her thumbs kept pressing into the center of my foot.
“You fighting my foot.” She laughed.
“Yeah, I’m fighting this shit like I’ve been fighting my beats lately.” I chuckled the words out.
When I didn’t hear her laugh, I opened my eyes and took her in for a while.
Jatavia looked focused. Her plump lip was caught between her teeth. Her perfectly arched brows were slightly furrowed as she worked her hands into my foot like she was undoing knots I didn’t even know I had.
“You gotta stop doing that.” She spoke softly then looked me in the eyes.
“What?” I asked.
“Stop insulting yourself… Especially when your people have found you Dreu. I know you say stuff like that to beat others to the punchline, but I don’t think it’s cool.” She slowed her movements just a little.
She kept on massaging, her thumbs traced slow circles along the veins on top of my foot. I sat stunned because nobody in my circle ever corrected the way that I talked. I started insulting myself around others because I got tired of people talking shit about the way that I rapped. I truly enjoyed everything about creating a song. It calmed me whenever I stepped into the booth.
This year, I found it hard to stay focused on my craft. I start second guessing myself because I had gotten too caught up focusing on all the negativity along with the shit I saw on the internet. People didn’t realize that rappers, singers, actors and so on were all human being. I could take constructive criticism but some of the disrespect became a little discouraging.
“You have real fans that love how raw you are. You say what you feel even when it ain’t perfect. You make ratchet music forpeople to feel good and dance to…then you make real music that people can feel especially when they going through stuff.” She searched my eyes for a moment.
“I be off beat, Tavia.” I scoffed under my breath hating that I sounded like a bitch complaining.
I desperately tried to stay on beat most of the time. Half the time, I got a little too excited when I heard a fire ass beat.
“Shit be making me feel like I should give up sometimes.” I uttered lowly.
Her hands stilled on my foot, and I felt the shift in both of our moods before she said a word.
“Don’t do that.” She said sternly.
“Just last night… my Instagram was at zero followers.” She cocked her head to the side.
“Right now, my followers are at two hundred thousand. I know most are just following because they nosey and obsessed with you.” She giggled lightly.
“But at the end of the day, you the reason they follow ‘Atmospheres By Tavia’. You think people be screaming your name give a damn about some technical perfection? We had to walk through the mall with security detail because people was trying to attack you because of the love they have for you. They feel your energy and how honest you are in your raps. You out here giving people confidence.” She leaned down and kissed the top of my big toe.
“Whoaaaa!” I chuckled.
She looked up at me with a devious smile. I swear this woman was so damn sexy without even trying to be. Jatavia had her hair pressed bone straight with a part down the middle. It fell a little past her shoulders and was silky as hell. Today I couldn’t get enough of running my rough fingers through her scalp.
“You like that, Big D.” She smiled.
