𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄 | 𝟗𝟎'𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 | 𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐞

Friday, April 13, 1990

The nineteen year old songstress stormed down the corridor of the venue with her head held high and her fists clenched as her arms dangled back and forth with each step she took.

She was in no doubt that her palms were bleeding by how hard her nails were digging into her skin, but that was the least of her concerns at the moment. Her face held a menacing look and her eyes were fixated on the crowded room at the end of the hallway.

Sound waves of booming laughter clashed with the sound of her heels clicking against the ecru tile floor, but both were overpowered by the sound of the destructive thoughts that were running through her head.

The moment she entered the room, all the laughter and chatter came to a halt. The look on her face was enough to let everyone know that something was about to go down, and it wasn't gonna be pretty. Normally, she would've felt intimidated by the fact that there were twelve men in the room but not this time. She was fed up. She had to stand up for herself and she didn't care if she caused a scene whilst doing it.

All eyes were on her as she stepped up to the man who was responsible for making the past two months of her life a living hell. Some watched closely, intrigued to see what would happen next while others shamelessly thirsted over the young R&B diva.

"What is your fucking problem?" she questioned, her tone sharper than usual. A few ooh's accompanied by a couple of gasps could be heard in the background – Chérie Parker wasn't known for cussing, hell, she wasn't even known for talking. She was that shy, quiet, well-mannered girl who didn't bother anyone. Arsenio Hall even went as far as nicknaming her the shy chanteuse when she was a guest on his show back in '89.

He wore a smug smirk on his face as a dry chuckle escaped his lips. "Listen here little girl, I don't know who you think you're talking to-" he was quickly cut off as the last ounce of patience she had left her body. She was done playing nice. "No, you listen here!" she retorted as she raised her voice a little more with each word she said. "And don't little girl me as if you're twenty years my senior or something, you're only four years older than me but shit, you're so fucking childish I'd say it's the other way around! I done let a lot of things slide, the hurtful comments, the cruel jokes, purposely spilling drinks on me, paying the sound guys to fuck up my performance, but damn, you really outdid yourself today. Locking me in the bathroom so I couldn't get out there and perform? Bravo! You really did that shit!" she let out a dry chuckle, followed by a deep breath in attempt to calm herself down a bit.

"As a matter of fact, who the fuck do you think you are? What is it that you do besides crickity cracking those chopstick looking ass legs?" she questioned as his entourage tried their best to stifle their laughs. "You walk around like you're the star of the show when in reality you're the lanky, Top Ramen built motherfucka from New Edition who used to walk around with that ugly ass jheri curl, looking like Michael Jackson drawn from memory." That must've been the tipping point for everyone in the room since they all burst out laughing. His fellow group members were practically in tears, but Chérie didn't stop there.

"Despite what you may think, you ain't all that. You don't have the talent, the looks or the it factor, shit, you don't even have eyebrows! You swear all those girls out there want you and shit as if you're their favorite New Edition member, but the gag is – you're not even the second favorite, you're last choice. You wanna know why? Because you're not that cute, and your hair is uneven, you look dusty."

He stood there, slowly nodding his head with his lips pressed together to keep from laughing. He was beyond impressed by the way she stood up for herself. Although he did feel some type of way about her dissing him in front of his crew, he knew he deserved it after the shit he pulled today.

"You done?" he asked while trying his best to refrain from cracking a smile.

Her face softened as the laughter died down a bit. Her once sharp tone was no more, it was now laced with exhaustion and humiliation. "Ronnie, it's not my fault our label decided to make me the opening act for y'all's tour. Trust me, I've tried to pull out of this whole thing but they wouldn't let me. I've only been doing this for two years, I don't get to decide for myself, they don't care if I'm having a terrible time here or if I cry myself to sleep every night, I have to do as I'm told." she said as she quickly blinked away a few tears that were threatening to come out.

It was frustrating for her to think about the fact that she had so little control over her own life and career at the moment. Getting signed was not what she thought it would be like.

"I'm stuck here for the next four months." she said, forcing a small smile. "But I guess that's good news for you, you have four more months to humiliate me and make my life a living hell." she chuckled bitterly and with that, she left the room.

After a few seconds of pin dropping silence, people were starting to gossip between themselves, most of them still in awe.

Numerous thoughts swarmed Ronnie's mind. He was starting to realize that he had been going the wrong way about the attraction he had towards her. Instead of being immature and picking on her at any given moment, he had to make up his mind and be a man about it.

"I fucked up big time." he mumbled to himself as he left the crowded dressing room.

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So... what y'all think? 👀

Part 2?

Thank you so much for reading & please excuse typos if there are any.