Black Ice

ii

two | crystal

I was laser-focused. With my gaze aimed at the blue lit skyline, I bolted as fast as my legs would allow. Sweat licked at my skin as flames consumed my muscles.

Yet, I continued on my treadmill.

The twilit city was a sight to behold, a sign of a day anew, and here I was, hard at work before the sun had even rolled out of bed.

It was a new habit. A habit I'd grown to love, accompanied by the monotonous hum of rotating pavement and the serenity of a day not yet started.

Besides, I had to get my stamina up, if I'd soon be propped up on stages nationwide. Not only that, but I could feel my weight becoming a burden for our team of stylists.

After a rather unsuccessful first session of wardrobe selection and fittings for the tour, I found myself coping how I always did— a blunt and a bath.

But as I floated in the stationary waters filled with the tiny remains of my self-esteem, I realized something.

Shit was changing.

It'd been changing for a long time, but this journey that lies ahead of us? This would be the most drastic change yet!

We'll be more active than ever, performing every other night. We'll be in closer quarters than ever, living on the road and sharing bunks and occasional hotel rooms.

Not to mention the fact that I'll be the only woman on the tour. More testosterone. More headaches.

I had to wrangle and cage my peace of mind now before I was too consumed with the fast pace of work and traveling to worry about it later.

And I figured that the best way to deal with change is to change too.

New ways to cope. New paths to peace.

Set it all in stone before the tide of the tour would wash everything out. That was my goal.

One of them, at least.

The others were much more long-term and much more centered on the music and the group.

With Antonio's words of wisdom— about reaccessing goals, especially when coming up on another year of things— I contemplated what it was that I wanted.

For Iron Vacay as a group. For Iron Vacay as people. But most of all, for myself.

I wanted us to put on the best show we could. I wanted us to sound just like the record— better than the record— when we performed.

And thanks to a little advice from Honey— yes, thee Honey— I invested in a treadmill and have been performing my raps with every mile.

It was some of the best advice I'd ever gotten— I put it up there with Will's "never let a nigga come between you and your rhymes" and Shaan's "utilize the space of the stage when you rap"— and such advice was given during our album release party.

Everybody was there, from established suits to thuggish up-and-coming artists. And among the mix was Honey, who came up to me like a real homegirl.

She wasn't stuck-up or standoffish. She said that she dug the album and was excited to see a woman like me rockin' the mic.

It meant a lot, and I tried not to act like too much of a fan, but I think once I asked her to sign something for my little sister, my cool had pretty much dissolved.

I was enamored of her, even as she stood in a casual yet sleek outfit that showed off her flat midriff.

I asked her "how does she do it," and with that, I had what felt like the golden answer to a growing insecurity.