𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐄

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐎

24th of February 1992

THE POP STAR

This entire month has been busy for me. I've been hopping on jets, flying from country to country, city to city and the instability is troubling to me, but that's the price of fame.

I received a Lifetime Achievement Award in Washington from the National Association of Black-Owned Broadcasters and I decided to accept my award in person before going on my two-week vacation to Africa, visiting several different countries in the continent, and being crowned 'King of Sani' by the tribal chief, Amon N'Djafolk.

Then following the Africa trip, I flew straight to Britain, and every step I took was filmed and photographed by the press. I visited Benny Hill at his bedside at the Royal Brompton and brought him flowers, hoping to somewhat make his day. Along with visiting him, I signed contracts for British tour dates.

At this moment, I'm back in Los Angeles watching Beyoncé talk to herself like a madwoman and I'm not even listening to her anymore. Fresh from rehearsal, the blonde left straight from campus and drove to my condo, which was definitely a shorter ride than the ride to Neverland. I'm sitting at the dining room table with a drink in my hand watching this woman panic about a little school show.

"We haven't spoken to each other since last month and you want to ramble about school?"

"Yes! Instead of runnin' lines, here I am. I'm fuckin' nervous and I get clumsy when I'm nervous," She begins before squinting her eyes at the wall and turning her head to look at me, "You better be grateful I even agreed to come and see you after what you did."

"And what did I do?"

Her eyes widened in disbelief before she answered, "You know what you did."  I know what I did too, but I dislike confrontation. I'd rather a woman just follow my instructions so there are no disagreements to be had.

"Refresh my memory," I demand, and her left eyebrow raises making me believe that whatever she's about to say is either going to be passive-aggressive or downright out-of-pocket. I can't control how she responds, but I'll try my best to control my reaction.

Usually, I'm able to restrain myself from saying or doing something when someone says something that bothers me since it's predictable, yet for some reason when it comes from Beyoncé, it feels unexpected.

"Would you want to see your father grab your mother like that?" Her brown eyes hinting at something I don't appreciate, almost as if she knew my entire life just from a single glance.

"Don't you ever mention my mother again. Do you understand me?"

We stare at each other, but I can't decipher the emotion in her eyes. I'm not sure if it's fear, disappointment, or anger. Maybe, it's a combination of all three, but I don't tolerate disrespect from anyone, especially a woman that's younger than me by more than ten years.