“Great job, Ty!” Aria handed her a bottle of water and placed a pair of Ugg slippers at her feet.
“See, this is why I love you.” She accepted the water and paused to remove her heels. Using one hand to steady herself on Aria’s shoulder, Tyler used her other hand to guzzle down the bottle of water.
“Alright, we have an after party at a club downtown, and I have your outfit in the dressing room. I stretched the heel, but don’t put them on until you arrive at the club because they are some killers,” Aria rambled, jumping into her assistant role. “Shane got tied up with his client in Texas, but he said he’ll see you in a week or so,” she informed, speaking of their other friend who also doubled as Tyler’s hair technician.
“I’mma fire his ass. This nigga goes from doing my hair to everybody else's.” Tyler tooted her lips. “Not gone lie, I’m happy for his bald-headed ass, I just miss my friend,” she pouted.
Tyler was selfish with Shane and his talents. Sharing him with the world was one of the hardest things she had ever had to do, but Shane was far too gifted to be stingy with. Not only could he melt a wig quicker than wax in the Sahara Desert, but he also specialized in braiding, cuts, and, as of two years ago, he was a board-certified loc technician. Shane had his own shop, but he also traveled all around the country with top elite stars, keeping their braids tight and laces slayed. His books were always fully booked, but when his best friend called, he dropped everything for her.
“You know Shane gotta make his coins. Don’t be jealous, you still got me,” Aria beamed.
“Bitch, no. You get in trouble right along with me, we need balance.”
“And do. I gotta add jumping niggas to my resume. We beat the fuck outta Dex.”
“Did!” Tyler giggled. “Speaking of that clown, where is he?”
“Don’t know, I think he’s in his feelings. You put him on blast and the crowd wasn’t feeling him. They were dry as hell when he popped his ass on stage like a jack in the box. Then he kept pointing the mic at them as if they knew the lyrics to them dumb ass songs. Like nigga, ain’t nobody here to see you, Otis,” Aria jested. “But baby, when you came out,” she paused. “They lit the fuck up and Dex almost died on the spot, and I have it on camera.”
It was no secret that her best friend couldn’t stand her boyfriend. Actually, neither of her friends liked Dex. In their opinion, Dex was an opportunist, and Tyler could’ve done a lot better than a tone-deaf, washed-up rapper who piggybacked off his girlfriend's career. Their relationship was toxic, and the world loved them when they were featured on gossip blogs for senseless drama. Tyler only spazzed out when Dex called himself doing something stupid, and being the drama king he was, Dex loved pushing her buttons and hiding his hand.
“Fuck him. I’m so tired of that nigga,” Tyler expressed.
“It took all my might not to unplug his mic, cause how you up here rapping a song my best friend wrote, but always grinning in some bitch face. I promise you I want all the smoke with his funky ass.”
“You should’ve did that shit,” Tyler rolled her eyes.
“Girl, fuck him. You know Dex is jealous as fuck that you're out here winning, so he’s going to use every opportunity to makeyou look like the fool. Next time he wanna make some money, tell that nigga to go stand on Woodward and beat on some damn buckets with chopsticks.”
Tyler knew allowing him to open her show was a bad idea, but he needed the money, and she wanted to stroke his ego. He fucked her harder when he felt like he was in control, plus his career was struggling, and Tyler was his last lifeline. In her opinion, Dex needed to change his style, but he was stuck on autotune and bad lyrics. The company he kept encouraged him, refusing to tell the man he sounded worse than Ren and Ten. It was Tyler who kept it 100, but her opinion didn’t matter until he needed her to hop on his track and save his song from getting trashed.
“Do you have my phone?”
“Right here.” Aria handed her the iPhone 15.
Picking up her heels, Aria followed behind Tyler as she started tapping on her phone. There were messages from Shane, tags and mentions from social media, and a couple of messages from Bobbi letting her know she was sliding off for the night. There was nothing from Dex, so she dismissed everything else. With her head still down, Tyler rounded the corner to her dressing room and collided with a hard figure that sent her falling to the ground.
“Oh shit, my fault, sweetheart,” the deep voice apologized as his hand reached out to help her back to her feet. Tyler stared at his scarred knuckles and tattoo covered hands before tracing the thick veins in his arms, up his neck, and landing on his handsome face. Butterflies formed in the pit of her stomach as he patiently held his hand out for her to take. Tyler's eyes focused on his rich dark chocolate complexion, sunken cheeks, and brown tinted lips. She saw past his unkempt fade andscruffy facial hair. He was rough around the edges, but he was perfect. Placing her hand in his, Tyler allowed him to help her stand. For a brief second, they stood there holding hands.
“You good?” His deep voice broke the silence, bringing her back to reality. Snatching her hand away from him, Tyler cleared her throat and glared at him.
“Watch where you’re walking,” she barked, mean mugging him.
“The fuck?” He frowned, taken aback by her rude tone. “You walked into me, I could’ve left yo uncoordinated ass on the ground.”
“You saw me walking, next time walk around!”
“Aye, shorty, watch who the fuck-
“Lo, come on nigga,” another man called out for the stranger that was about to rip her a new asshole. Picking up his phone from the ground, Lo faced her and snorted. “Next time drink some tea before you go on stage. It sounded like you been hollering all night,” he advised before walking off.
“Boy, fuck you.” Tyler gave him the middle finger.
“Here.” Aria handed her the phone she dropped, ushering her to keep walking toward her dressing room. “Take a load off, eat something, and I’ll keep everyone away.”
“Ok, just give me an hour to get myself together,” she mumbled, pushing the dressing room door open.
Behind closed doors, Tyler’s shoulders dropped, her stomach ached, and light perspiration decorated the bridge of her nose. Her hands trembled lightly, alerting her that it had been far too long since she poisoned her bloodstream with the only thing that relaxed her nerves, kept her thoughts at bay, and pacified her emotions. Liquor kept her content, but thetiny capsules soothed her mind, body, and soul. Even when she tried to kick the habit, the yearning caused her to pause in the middle of a conversation or wake up in a cold sweat. Opioids and stimulants made up the star that people loved so much, and without them, she was empty.
