price of fame. [m.j]

Chapter 1 || Academy Awards

1974

ONYEIKA

I hold on tightly to Lola Falana's hand, who sits anxiously beside me. We wait to hear our names hollered across the Emmy Awards large venue, full of importantly dressed and high class celebrities, with cigars hanging from their lips and garnishing our eyes in their glamorous tailored dresses. Camera's are filming everyone from every possible angle, as Chaka Khan presents the award for 'Most Outstanding supporting Actress' in the 'Daytime programme' area. She looks gorgeous, like a goddess gracing us with her presence, as she stands on the stage in a silky red dress that drags along the ground behind her, and a white puffy throw over covering her shoulders.

"And the award goes too..." she hollers in her honeyed voice, capable of tremors and sounds I'm merely able to project, unless it's Michael. Wait...where is he? Lola squeezes my hand gently beneath the table, and i look at her in excitement for her, because she deserves it superiorly, as I've already received 2 awards tonight. I see Chaka's face light up with that notorious toothily smile.

"Lola Falana! For her adorn character Momma Devoe on 'Maybe Tomorrow'!" She squeaks from the stage in excitement, and i suddenly feel my body jump in excitement. Lola pecks a small kiss on my cheek in joy, as the whole venue starts cheering and whistling, standing from their seats. I hug her tightly, smiling crazily for her achievement. She gracefully stands from her seat beside me, and slowly struts her way to the stage, as the default academy music plays in the background, her face being reflected on a large screen on the stage. I clap and stand from my seat, whistling and jumping up and down, the cameras zooming into my reaction, and once i notice, i quickly settle back in my seat.

"Go Lola baby!" A fellow co-sar, Yara Shahidi, coos from her hands upping her mouth. Once she reaches the stage, we all silence, to hear her motherly tone. Just as she is about to speak, suddenly somebody nudges me on the shoulder. I spin my body around, my white gown of a dress crumpling up. I see one of the producers, holding their earpiece in place as they lean down to speak.

"Sorry to disturb you miss, but yourself and Mr. Jackson are to present, not the next award, but the one after. Id invite you to the dressing room, but we can't find Mr. Jackson anywhere, and i was hoping you could tell us" The lady says, her blonde hair ruffled into a messy perm, with a formal black suit with matching flared pants on, and clutching her clipboard.

"I might have an idea" I speak softly, as i stand from my seat, unfortunately missing Lola's speech. I quickly usher through the tables, trying to cary my gown in my fists, as i waddle in my heels around the tables of A class celebrities, trying to sneak my way to the back door. I pass a table with Diana Ross and her partner, and she gives me a small smile and a confused wave, and attempt at quickly waving back. I then eye the Jackson's table, and i quickly try to look away, not wanting to have to deal with any of them...not right now. I rush my petite teenage body, successfully, to the back door, pushing it open and quickly rushing myself out into the main ball-room styled foyer. Classy red velvet couches crowd one corner, with cold shiny marble flooring, with high ceilings and fancy chandeliers, and a smell of champagne lingering. The clicking and clattering of my pale create heels echoes through the semi-empty room, which holds a few people smoking just outside the front door. I rush over to the balcony, which holds more smokers, the smell intoxicating the air and effortlessly being blown from the select few celebrities that do so.