Between Reel and Reality (Lesbian Romance)

Chapter Seventeen: Needy

CIERRE

A-listers stand, their faces awed as my grand, theatrical performance of "Almost There" concludes. Bowing to the praise, my dimples deepen with my widening grin. I immerse myself in the heart-swelling scene, savoring the end of Princess Tiana's reign. I've had phenomenal roles that my peers would've killed for, but this one is the most monumental. I used to watch the 1997 Brandy-led Cinderella, mesmerized by her fabulous dark skin. How she impeccably sang and took over the elegance of a classic princess inspired me. Now, I'm inspiring other Black children. I found it bothersome to have influential executives constantly monitoring me, worried about how I was perceived as a role model. But that slight aggravation is nothing compared to a life I may have changed, a dream potentially sparked.

As the radiant lights on the stage dim, I dart backstage. While the silver screen is my familiar territory, the enchantment of live performances never fails to mesmerize me. Each time I sing and grace the audience with a show, the joy of witnessing their enraptured faces becomes an invaluable treasure. It serves as a reminder that I am not just a thespian but also a show-stopping singer and dancer. My euphoria will likely linger for a week, maybe even two—especially since I've added another Grammy to my parents' trophy room.

When I spot Sydney behind the curtains, we hit the griddy dance, celebrating my freedom. The Forsaken Vow era, here I come!

Sydney and I go way back to freshman year in college, where she was the starter-locs stud on campus, breaking every sapphic's heart. Now, her jet-black locs have honey-brown dyed tips. For the Grammys, she styled them in two crisp fishtail braids that fall to her mid-back. As dapper as ever, her two-piece suit color-coordinates with my gown.

"Superstar! As always!" Sydney enthuses as we perform our routine double-fist bump.

"Thank you, Syd!" I shout. I bounce up and down and give her a bear hug. She laughs into my ear as her brawny arms pull me in tighter. On top of being my manager, Sydney also acts as an informal bodyguard. No one wants to try the septum-pierced, protein-pumped woman—except maybe Amel. "I can't believe we've gotten this far."

"I can," she says, a smile constant on her wide, bow-shaped lips. Though Sydney is more than attractive and still quite the romancer, we're only besties and business pals. She possesses the rare talent of balancing strictness with playfulness, effectively guiding me while also inspiring me to unwind.

She signals her dark rose-tatted hand towards the hallway. While following her broad shoulders, I'm constantly stopped for congratulations and pulled into conversations. Sydney kindly tugs my hand as I get too wrapped up in pleasantries, reminding me everything's always on a schedule.

Bursting into the dressing room, I shout, "Ah! I gotta hurry before Amel starts performing!" My glam team surrounds me, helping me to get undressed. As my crew tells me how much I "did that," I motion for Sydney's attention. She's on her phone, probably securing some new brand endorsement she'll tell me about later.

She approaches as I step out of my dress, keeping her eyes above my shoulders. "Yes, Princess Eri?" she asks, fluttering her eyelids sarcastically.

"Are you coming with me to Mel's after-party?" I ask. A stylist gestures for me to turn my body a certain way, and then a bunch of makeup brushes beat at my face. In my peripheral, I glimpse an eye roll.

"Me? At Amel's party? She invited me?"

"No, but—"

As Sydney laughs, she turns her cheek, revealing the sharp angle of her jaw. "You're funny, Eri. How are you going to invite me to her shit?"

"Since we've made up, I've peeped how much Amel's grown. They're not who they used to be." Sydney exhales heavily and tucks her lips. "Say what's on your mind. It's not like it's leaving this room."