❛ You pay the price of fame,
So don't be feeling no pain. ❜
⸺ ( Michael x black!oc )
Imani Sade, renowned songwriter and musician, has been working for the biggest Pop stars of the industry while staying behind the scenes for years. Due to her mu...
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PARAMOUNT STUDIOS . LOS ANGELES 1974 ( flashback )
𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 down her rosy powdered cheek, a ten year old Imani plopped down on an armchair, sitting alone in the green room she was assigned to. Red bottom lip bitten by her front teeth, she yanked the cheap kitten heels off her feet and threw them on the floor with spite. Pulling her right leg over the other, the girl grasped her foot to examine it, and as presumed, it was full of blisters.
Her lips quivered as she blinked repeatedly, struggling to inhibit the tears from falling as hours were spent on her makeup. Hours were also dedicated to perfecting the routine she was soon about to perform on a broadcasted talent show in California, and her body was now paying the price. It wasn't the first time, and certainly wouldn't be the last, but still, it hurt.
"Imani you're on in five minu—" A brown skinned woman stepped into the room, her bouncy blowout coming to a sudden halt when she stopped in her tracks. "Who gave you permission to take off your shoes?"
"Ma, I can't do it." She defeatedly shook her head, "It's too painful, I can't!" Coughing a cry, her swollen eyes begged for her mother's compassion as the woman approached her. "Look at em!"
"Imani..." Tamira sighed while crouching to her daughter's level, not once taking a glance at her bruised feet. "Here, listen to me." She began softly, cupping Imani's cheeks with her cold palms, but tightened her hold when noticing she had already been tuned out. "Are you listening?" She spoke louder this time, causing Imani to flinch.
"This is what puts food on the table, we put food on that table." Tamira made sure to emphasize each word, hoping to bring back sanity in her daughter's brain. "This," she seized her foot and held it up tightly, making Imani wince, but the woman still refused to look at it. "Is part of the work, Imani. You think them Jackson's cancel shows cause their feet hurt a little?"
"I'm not a Jackson!"
Slap.
"Your little acts of rebellion won't be tolerated tonight!" Imani held her reddened cheek, her mother resorting to violence still being a foreign thing to her. "So, listen to what you're gonna do. You're gonna quit acting like baby, put those pretty shoes back on, get on that stage and show these people who we are." Then, for the coup de grace, Tamira lowered her voice, that motherly tone of hers easily resurfacing. "Think about Khalil, Imani. You know he needs new clothes."
At the simple mention of her baby brother, the boy she promised herself she'd do anything for the second he took his first breath on Earth, Imani's tunnel vision returned. She softly shoved Tamira's hands away from her face, wiped her tears away and sniffed.
