"Rise of the phoenix."
Imani Phoenix is one of the largest superstars on planet Earth. Blessed with a mesmerizing voice, beauty that could stun even Aurora herself, and incredible people around her, Imani has it made. Right? Here comes the cliche...
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Imani was restless again. Thrashing around in her bed, she panted angrily, feeling light sweat cover her body. It was always hot, but during this time of year, the heat seemed unbearable. But to Imani, she should be used to the heat by now. Now, though, the heat was the least of her concerns. Fuck! she thought, feeling the old wooden floorboards vibrate and shake from the loud, ear-splitting music, Will they shut up? I thought that they would've left after I finished singing, goddamn it!
Swinging upright and dangling her legs off of the old, rusty, mothball-smelling cot, Imani stood up with a yawn, stretching as she did so. Automatically, her gaze flew forward, only to be met with a brick wall. She'd forgotten that her little flat had no windows. That is, if you could even refer to it as one.
The flat contained the rusty cot, a small dresser with a lamp that was flickering, old posters of different bands and musicians, all from different time periods, that were scattered across the brick wall. Next to the dresser stood a stack of mostly empty boxes, all of which weren't even Imani's. There was a puny, ridiculously small bathroom to the right of her cot, which simply contained a dusty old sink, a cracked mirror, and a shower that was so old, it looked like Moses himself could've showered in there. Unfortunately for Imani, both the sink and the shower only ran on cold water, if it was working at all. Imani had valiantly tried to lighten up the space by stringing some lights around the room, but that had just been an annoying task that resulted in her stubbing her toe. So now, half the room that was lit up looked like it was Christmas, and the other side was barely visible, thanks to the flickering lamp.
Scooping her braids into a ponytail, Imani took a quick peak of herself into the bathroom mirror. She found herself silently thanking God that she'd been able to learn how to braid her hair after watching older girls with similar hair texture do it. As far as Imani had seen, there were no braiders for thick, curly hair in San Antonio, Texas, or as she liked to call it, La Ciudad de Estrellas.
Exiting her room and stomping down the stairs in a rather aggressive way, Imani finally found the bars manager, Vincenzo.
"Oye, Vincenzo!" she hollered at him over the blasting music, sheilding her eyes from the flashing neon lights that made up the room.
"Oye, chica!" Vincenzo responded with a grin, squeezing through a group of girls to get to Imani. "What's up?" he asked in Spanish.
"What's up?" Imani repeated angrily, "What's up is that your music is blasting at full volume, I have a headache, and I can't sleep, mamaguevo!"
"Whoa there, Ani, chill! I'll get everyone to clear out, just wait until this song is finished!" Vincenzo said indignantly. Imani sighed. She knew it would probably be 10 more songs before he cleared everyone out, and she'd somehow start singing along to them.
"Ooh, listen!" Vincenzo suddenly gasped. Imani made a hmph! sound, feeling her brain rattle inside her skull.
"I don't have a choice in listening," she grumbled, before letting out a gasp as well. Both she and Vincenzo turned to face each other, grinning from ear to ear.
