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Dani straightened and smiled. “Thank you.”
“Can I get you anything? Water, coffee? Champagne?”
Her love for all things bubbly always preceded her.
“I’m good,” she said.
“Then they’re ready for you in the conference room. Would you please follow me?” The young woman started down the hall, then stopped and turned back to Dani. “We’re not supposed to bother you, but I wanted to let you know that I’m a big fan.”
Some of her fellow artists took these interactions for granted. Dani never did. Maybe because she still remembered being on the other side of the exchange when she’d first gotten into music. Her foray into the industry had begun with a part-time job at a recording studio in Norfolk. She’d never forget the day she saw one of her idols strolling the carpeted hallway. Dani had gone up to her, expressed her admiration and gratitude, and confessed that the woman’s music had gotten Dani through some hard times. The woman had looked Dani up and down, sucked her teeth, and said, “Get me more ice in our studio lounge,” before sashaying off, muttering about “young bitches trying to take her spot.”
Dani had been shocked by the woman’s attitude and had mentioned the incident to a fellow intern. “Oh, girl. Get used to it. Women don’t take other women under their wing. And they definitely don’t play nice with us. Do you know how many boyfriends and husbands have been lost to the woman you thought was your friend?”
That experience had made a lasting impression on Dani. The disappointment she’d felt, meeting an entertainer she’d looked up to, informed her own interactions with her fans. She always took time to speak with them, especially the young women. And if they ever expressed interest in the business, Dani encouraged them to go after their dreams. Fuck that “Highlander, there can be only one!” shit.
It was an additional reason why she was pissed with Banks for propagating the impression that she would intentionally hurt another female artist.
Dani fought her way back to the present. “Thank you. It’s always nice meeting fans who support women in hip-hop.”
The receptionist recoiled. “No, not of your music. Though it’s good,” she stammered when she realized what she’d said, colorblooming on her cheeks. “I meant of your skin-care line. I love your exfoliating skin wash.”
Assumptions, Dani!
But she recovered quickly. “Isn’t it great? I use all of my own products, too. We actually have that wash coming out in a couple of different scent options. Give your information to Tasha and I’ll make sure we send you some.”
“Really?” The woman’s eyes widened. “Can I post this on Insta?”
“Of course. Tag me, okay?”
“I will. Thank you, Duchess.”
Dani smiled and Tasha handed the young woman a business card.
“That’s happening more and more often,” Tasha commented, as they headed down the long hallway to the conference room.
“Being approached by fans? It happens all of the time.”
“Not just fans. Fans of Mela-Skin. It used to be a rare occurrence. Now it’s happening with the same frequency as you being approached by fans of your music. And the skin-care fans are more women.”
At the beginning of her career, most of the people who approached Dani and asked for pictures were men. Over the past few years, she’d begun noticing that she was approached by more women, but Tasha’s statement was the first time she realized that most of the women also spoke to her about the skin-care line. This all seemed to confirm her decision to focus her energies on the venture that would help her achieve her long-term goal of true independence.
“Mela-Skin made you more approachable,” Tasha said. “It softened your image, excuse the pun.”
When they reached the glass door to the conference room, Andrea Thompson, Mela-Skin’s CEO, was waiting for them. “Are you ready?”
“Aren’t I always?” Dani asked.
“Put everything that’s happened out of your mind. Remember, they want your company,” Andrea said.
“I know. So, let’s get in there and do what we have to do not to lose it.”
Andrea opened the door and stood back to allow Dani to enter. By the time she’d crossed the threshold, Dani had buried the nervousness she felt layers deep beneath the cool image she wanted to project.
The room was large, and the floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of downtown Manhattan and One World Trade Center, the sun sparkling off the Hudson River. Three rectangular-shaped wooden tables were configured into a narrow U that dominated the space, and a large digital screen was built into the far wall. An assortment of men and women, mostly white, sat in various chairs around the tables.
Instinctively, Dani made eye contact with the only black woman on Genesis’s team. Neither would ever betray it outwardly, but the slight head bob was all that was necessary for each to confirm they were allies, a quick moment that most people in the room hadn’t noticed.
At the far end of the table, Henry Owens, the company’s point person, stood to greet her, buttoning the jacket of his navy suit. “Duchess. Welcome. It’s good to finally meet you.”
