CONFLICTED

🅑🅞🅝🅤🅢 🅒🅗🅐🅟🅣🅔🅡

Tracy

My nerves were getting to me as I sat before the mirror in the artiste dressing room while my makeup artist gave me a cosmetic makeover. I knew it was normal since this was my first concert but I was freaking out all the same. Hearing the feint uproar that was the audience was not helping my situation at all.

I had everything set. Having written my DLI exams, I got on unilag's online program so I had the meantime to focus solely on my music.

These past few days, I've been doing my best in becoming a philanthropist to my family and people I knew growing up. But seeing things from a different perspective since learning of my dad's mistress, I realized my paternal family never for once checked up on us because they knew what my dad had been up to before he died and they had not approved of my mom with my dad.

Now that I was a rising star, they shamelessly made demands from me as though they've known me their whole lives. It was so messed up and infuriating but they were still my family. People that barely knew me also wanted to know me only for their benefits and I was still trying to deal with all that cons of fame.

Right now, I was mentally and emotionally prepping myself up for the show.

"That's okay, thank you." I told my makeup artist and she smiled and stopped dabbing on my face with the brush.

"Are you alright?" Vivian asked after noticing my frown.

"No." I confessed, "I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Do you want me to call on your manager?"

"Yes please."

I watched Vivian step out and my thoughts went haywire again. Singing in church or the studio or freestyling on a radio broadcast was totally different from facing a crowd. My tickets sold out within two weeks and the swarm of people I saw waiting for the show to begin when I arrived earlier this evening was just mind-blowing. But I kept having this scary feeling that something was bound to go wrong and that alone made me want to throw up.

I stared at myself in the mirror once again. My dreadlocks were let down and my face practically glittered against the light. On me were a denim jumpsuit and a white inner laced with tie and dye. My attire made me recall the dispute I had with my producer over revealing or feminine clothes. He came up with controversies on things I had to do to capture the public's attention which I outright turned down.

Why not cut off your dreadlocks, he suggested after we established I would keep on wearing whatever I want. They made me look medieval and boring, he said but my mind was set. I was known to be headstrong since I was a kid and it is what it is, but I couldn't help questioning my choices in secret. I spoke to Christopher about it and I could only stand my ground when he approved of my decision as well.

"Boo, you alright?"

I looked up and felt a wash of relief at Nicole's presence. He was in a tight cinnamon pant and newspaper print shirt with a durag around his head and heels for boots.

"No, Nicole. The nerves!" I whined and he chuckled as he came up to me.

"No pressure, okay? Just do your best and have fun out there."

"The pressure multiplied after you said no pressure. You suck at this."

"Sis," he sat on the table and smiled down at me, "you have no idea how nervous I am too. But like you did with this record, just go break that shit. We're all cheering for you, I'll be cheering for you. Hear that? They're excited to see you go all out for them and they won't be here if they didn't trust you to deliver like you did in the studio. Just have fun alright?"