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“Which one leaked? Coty? Genesis? L’Oréal?” She’d barely gotten the words out through gritted teeth.
“Samantha Banks.”
“Samantha Banks? What does she know?”
“No. She gave TMZ a story about that incident at the club and it’s trending on Twitter.”
Relief slumped Dani’s posture, causing her to sag back before aggravation restiffened her spine. “Can’t that bitch find another coattail to ride?”
She immediately regretted her outburst. Not the sentiment—never that!—but the fact that she’d permitted Samantha Banks, of all people, to generate that amount of emotion in her.
The pop sensation with the neon-colored hair had burst onto the scene two years ago with a catchy dance tune that had become the song of the summer. Everyone, including Dani, had eagerly anticipated her follow-up... and they were still waiting. Banks had released several remixes of her hit, featuring famous DJs, but nonew original music. That hadn’t stopped her from trying to remain relevant, showing up anywhere someone even thought to erect a step and repeat.
At the VMAs last year, when Dani had accepted the award for Best Hip-Hop Video for “Who You Gon’ Tell,” the camera had cut to the audience for reaction shots and caught Banks rolling her eyes. The press had latched on to the incident, and for weeks, they’d speculated on the tenor of Dani and Banks’s relationship. Since she’d received word from Banks’s camp that the singer had been reacting to the person next to her, Dani hadn’t taken offense. So, she’d been stunned when the other woman had gone to Twitter to discuss their “feud.”
Whenever questions arose about the existence of new Samantha Banks music, she resuscitated her “feud” with Dani. In private, Dani had no problems making her feelings known—“If she spent as much time working on new music as she did stalking me, she’d have a fucking Grammy Award–winning album!”—but she refused to comment publicly on the situation. As Nana used to say, the dog may bark at the moon, but when the moon barks back, the dog becomes important.
Dani would’ve felt sorry for Banks. Fame was addictive—invitations to the best parties, loads of free goodies, people knowing your name and singing your songs. It was difficult to experience the consuming phenomenon and then slide back into anonymity. But Dani hadn’t been resting onherlaurels. In addition to Mela-Skin, she’d dropped a new album and her third song from it, “Sky High,” had reached number one, hence the video.
Dani hadn’t worked her ass off to make Samantha Banks famous.
“Let me see,” Dani said now, holding out her hand for Tasha’s phone.
The TMZ headline read, “Duchess’s Rebuke of Samantha Banks Has the Pop Star’s Fans Calling for Her Head!”
Wait, what?
Dani knew the incident they were probably referencing. She’d been hosting a party at a club in New York last weekend and Banks had made her way to Dani’s VIP area. Antoine hadn’t let her in, so she’d proceeded to insult Dani and make a scene.
“How desperate is she? No one picked up the story, so she sends a video to TMZ? Nothing about what happened will make her look good.”
Dani clicked the video link embedded beneath the headline. The footage was grainy, the bouncing camera was nausea inducing, and the weird vantage point meant Dani spent the first twenty seconds looking at everyone’s crotch.
Had she been recording this from her purse?
The music was loud but the singer’s interaction with Antoine was clear.
“You can’t be here,”he said, calmly and professionally.
“It’s a free country.”The retort was peevish and juvenile.
“True. So, feel free to go stand someplace else.”
Samantha’s plaintive voice offscreen:“Look, Duchess promised to appear on my track and now her people aren’t returning my calls. My fans are waiting for my new music. I just want to know if she’s still going to do it.”
A hard cut to Dani, leaning over the railing yelling,“Are you serious? You gonna come up in here and say that shit to me? You’re a fucking clown. Get the hell outta here.”
Antoine took Samantha’s arm.“It’s time for you to go!”
The video ended abruptly.
Dani turned wide eyes to Tasha. “What. The fuck. Was that?”
“Banks’s new attempt to capitalize off your fame?”
“That’s not what happened. When Antoine told her to leave, she basically assaulted him trying to get at me in the section. She started yelling that I was talentless and that the only reason I’d made it was because I’d spread my legs for all of the big producers in hip-hop. Security had to escort her out!”
Tasha bit her lip. “Unfortunately, she came out with the story first. And it’s gaining traction.”
