“It was given to me,” she whines and stamps her foot.
Is she for real, throwing a tantrum like a two-year-old?
“While that might be true,” Darius says, his hand moving to my lower back as he steps to my side, keeping up with the fake dating appearances. “It doesn’t make it your song. Raina wrote it and has the proof. What do you have?”
“It was given tome. It’s mine now!“ Carmen growls, that whine still threaded through her voice like she’s entitled to whatever she wants.
“Bless your little heart. That’s not how things work,” I say, channeling every southern-woman-giving-an-insult that I’ve ever heard.
“You’re already famous. You don’t need these songs and I do. You can’t have them back! You’re a selfish whore who only wants the spotlight on her.” Carmen’s insults wash over me, not hitting the target she thinks she is. Her voice continues to get louder until she’s screaming at the top of her lungs. “You’re trying to sabotage my career because you’re threatened by me!”
A shocked silence sweeps over the space, the tension palpable, as everyone hangs onto her shrill accusations. People hold their phones up, undoubtedly filming, wanting to put the fight online, but Gill snatches the devices out of their hands. I know she’s reminding them of the NDA they signed.
I remain silent, tasting blood where I’ve bitten the inside of my cheek. My heart thunders in my chest and I grapple internally on how best to respond. Her words try to claw into my psyche, a twisted attempt to wrest control.
Like what the actual fuck is going on right now?Is this really all a result of her being in her teens and not understanding what’s happening? Or is it because Dickless has fed her lies and given her a superiority complex?
The absurdity of her having this kind of attitude finally has me laughing. I can’t help it. The sound echoes around the room, mingling with the buzz of those watching us.
“Threatened? By you?” My laughter continues to bubble out, causing Darius to squeeze my side in silent support. “Honey, you’re not even on my radar.”
I knew Carmen was desperate for fame and recognition, but using my work to bolster her own image was a new low. We should call her CeeCee since she’s trying to be my carbon copy. My fame isn’t something you can replicate like a template to find instant success.
She’s trying to paint me as the villain when all I’m doing is protecting what’s rightfully mine.
Nash leans forward, his expression contorted with anger. “Raina doesn’t need to steal. She sings from her soul,” he says resolutely, his voice booming through the room, catching everyone’s attention. “Even the fans can tell the difference between the two versions of the same song. You’re nothing but a joke that nobody will remember in a few months.”
His words hang in the air like an omen waiting to happen.
Over the years, I’ve grown accustomed to the darkness that this industry can breed and the poisonous narratives it can spin. It’s a sickening blend of admiration and hatred; they love you until they don’t.
Carmen truly had a chance to reach her dreams and become famous, but choosing to double down on stolen lyrics will get her canceled if the response from my fans is a hint of what will happen.
I’ve always been the type to fix crowns instead of ripping them off my peer’s heads, which is why I feel like I should try one more time to save her from herself.
“Listen, Carmen. Just because you got your hands on my song doesn’t mean it’s yours. Not legally, not morally. Those lyrics were stolen straight out of my notebook without my permission.”
Her face screws into a look of bitchy annoyance, like I’m wasting my time. “But I—”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” I cut her off. “It’s wrong, plain and simple. I’ll give you a chance right now to admit you didn’t know the song was stolen and to agree not to sing any of my stolen lyrics again. If you do, I’ll be your best ally in reaching your goals.
“But if you decide to keep throwing baseless insults and accusations at me, then I’ll be forced to continue with the lawsuit in protecting my intellectual property.”
Anger washes over her face, and I know right away she doesn’t see anything wrong with what she’s doing. She might not have been the one who stole my lyrics from the notebook, but she sees nothing wrong with it. “Stop being so selfish! You weren’t even doing anything with those lyrics until we started producing the tracks. You don’t need them, you’ve had plenty of hits. Plus, you owe the label another album, anyway. Who cares if you sing the songs or not. You’re an old washed out hag.”
Her newest attack has tension simmering through the air, so thick you can cut it with a knife. I gave her a chance, but it’s clear she’s cut from the same cloth as Dickless.
“Enjoy your delusions while they last, Carmen. Because when reality comes crashing down on you, it’ll hurt like hell.”
Before she can react, Keaton hooks an arm around my waist and guides me away from her and toward our waiting bus, leaving behind a dumbfounded crowd and a red-faced Carmen.
I’m not even worried about leaving the venue in my costume. My team is probably used to retrieving them from The Storm by now.
We make it to the exit, where Darius finds his way next to me again. I might forget about keeping up our fake dating appearance, but he never does. His arm finds my waist, holding me close as we face the ever waiting barrage of fans, reporters, and flashing light bulbs.
The cool night air hits me like a balm, but just as quickly freezes me to my core. These costumes aren’t made to brave the winter nights. Keaton crowds into my other side, doing his best to block me from the gusty breeze as I smile and wave to people as we pass.
“Got to get her inside before she turns into apop-sicle,“ Darius teases, giving the disappointed group of fans a reason why we aren’t stopping to say hi today.
