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Megan
I'm on the floor of my studio. Most of my mixtape is done. As I wrap up, I'm getting things in order like preparing for a few small shows and appearances that I can try to do.
I've got Normani on the phone. She's helping me out with the scheduling while I take a bit of a break from recording mid-session.
I kinda feel bad because I've been avoiding Nicki to get in the studio, write and in general make my music.
My music brings me happiness and I have fun being in the booth, but I also miss my Nicki and don't wanna neglect her.
"...Megan, you also have to keep in mind that you're a minor and due to the type of lyrics you rap, some of these clubs won't let you in."
I shrug and quickly answer, "So I lie about my age. After this conversation, I'm 21 years old. I can get us alcohol, Mani!"
I'm so smart.
"Megan, but what if someone finds out?"
"No one will. I'll get Patrick to hook me up with a fake ID. You remember how many times I got confused for being older cuzza my height and build? It won't be hard!"
"We can try two clubs." I hear her scribble somewhere. "You can perform at a few summer music festivals because they have a minimum age requirement of 10 for performers."
"Alright."
I take a big swig of some brown liquor. Patrick bought this for me.
Quickly a swig turns into multiple gulps.
"Megan, put the lid on it, NO MORE."
"Bitch I'm 17, you da little kid hea!" I quickly yell at Normani.
"You're fucking crazy."
I don't know why but that blows me up.
"I'm crazy!? I'm crazy, Normani?!"
I hang up on her.
I got a couple of beers and some sips of brown liquor in. The producer, Julian gets up and takes his headphones off, heading towards the door separating the booth from the soundboard.
"Yo, Meg--"
"Shut the hell up, I ain't crazy Nigga! You here to tell me I'm crazy too huh?"
He begins to triple. I look at him confused and he looks at me confused back.
"Meg, I think you need to sit down. I'll get you some wata. How much you had?"
I got here before him so he didn't see that I brought alcohol in with me.
He pulls a chair for me and I sit and hold my face in my hands. He walks off, I'm guessing to get water.
I feel so good and horrible at the same time. More so morally horrible than physically horrible.
