thirty four | crystal
I was in a mood— pissed.
All of our energy was being spent on "Sugar Hill," a song that was going to be our big hit, according to everybody but me.
It wasn't that I thought the song was wack. It was just the fact that no one asked what my thoughts were on the song.
Being able to bring my homegirl in was the only contribution I made, and it made me feel better about my lack of involvement... That is until Deanna Saunders came sauntering into the studio.
Things were still unclear as far as whether or not she'd actually be able to stay on the song, but the rest of the group rolled full-steam ahead anyway.
I sat in Tony and I's usual corner, watching him glue himself to the soundboard while Deanna was in the booth. He leaned back in his chair, relaxation permeating his body language.
All the while, he watched her, and she watched him.
I attempted to bury myself in my rhymes but couldn't focus as takes were layered and jokes were swapped over the intercom.
What was the point of me being here?
Will plopped down next to me, one of his legs stretching over my lap.
"Uh, you don't see my book right here?" I snatched my composition book from under his limb.
"You ain't usin' that shit anyway," he noted with a growing smile.
I rolled my eyes while slamming the notebook closed, a gust of wind fanning my face in doing so.
"What's up wit'chu? You sittin' over here, mean-muggin'," he chuckled.
"No, I'm not," I denied.
"Come on. What are you mad about?" he was fishing for an explanation.
"I'm mad that we spendin' so much time on this, when we could be workin' on something else," I answered.
"We spent just as much time on 'Pump It In The Jeeps'," he reasoned.
"Doesn't feel like it," I mumbled.
"You'll be a'ight," he assured just before the song stopped yet again.
"How'd that sound?"
"Great, Dee. We'll do one more and then you can do whatever you want at the end," Ishaan stated.
"Bet."
"Why am I here?" I asked Will as the music began again.
"What'chu mean?" he tittered.
"Like, I'm not even on this song... I'm not on a lot of these songs. What am I here for?" I rephrased.
"Cris, if we bein' real, a lot of what we're making probably isn't even going to make the album. I mean— at most, we'll have ten tracks, maybe. This is all just a part of the process... Just until we find a happy medium between what we want and what the label wants," he paused before calling to Ishaan.
"Right, 'Shaan?"
"Right what?"
"Exactly," Will turned back to me with a nod of confidence.
I scoffed. "Whatever... I think I'm gonna' call it a night. I have a headache."
"A'ight," he removed his leg and dug in his pocket.
"You don't have to take me home," I shook my head.
"Uh, yes I do... as soon as I find my keys," he affirmed while digging in his other pocket and patting himself down.
He got up from the couch, searching the studio for his keys now.
All the while, the hook of "Sugar Hill" continued on. Heads nodded and adjustments were made. Small talk was had through the intercom, jokes and laughter being traded amongst everyone but me and Will.
I sighed deeply, clutching my book while Dee told the story of Tony laying a verse for a song she was working on.
It took place some time last week, and it sounded like it took a bit of coaxing to get him into the booth.
Probably because I.V. is a group, and it's probably not the smartest idea to be laying solo verses when we don't even have a cohesive group sound that we feel comfortable presenting to the public yet. Just a thought.
"And Tony is so stubborn, oh my God!" Deanna laughed just as the rest of the boys did.
"Hell yeah. He'd rather talk his way out of something with Jedi mind tricks than to just do it," Ishaan confirmed with a chuckle.
"Yes! It took a lot of convincing just to get him to stand in the booth," She chortled.
Hm. I wonder just what kind of convincing it took.
My eyes narrowed at her just before my gaze shifted toward Antonio, who bore that cute ass smile that I'd only see during night drives home.
Yeah, I'm just about ready to jet.
"Found 'em," Will announced while throwing on his beloved 8-ball jacket.
"Found what?" his words had garnered the attention of everyone in the room.
"My keys. I'm finna take Cris home real quick," he explained, causing five pairs of eyeballs to laser into me.
"You leavin'?" Tony asked.
I almost laughed. Like he really cared.
"Yeah. I got a headache," I nodded.
"Oh, well, get better," Ishaan didn't hesitate to turn forward in his seat and start the music again.
"Nice to meet you," Deanna's voice echoed in the mic as I was passing the soundboard.
I offered a fake smile to her as well as everyone else. I didn't bother with my usual goodbye hugs, heading straight for the coat rack, where I grabbed my jacket and waved upon exiting.
I got settled in the passenger seat of Will's car, shivering as we waited for his car to warm up.
"You wanna tell me what you're really mad about?" he asked just before pulling out of his parking spot.
"The fact that my opinion isn't valued in the group," I nodded while repeating the same sentiments from earlier.
"Yeah, but what else? You were staring at Deanna from the moment she walked in."
I folded my arms, my notebook becoming pinned to my chest as I gazed out of the passenger side window.
"I don't know... It's just like... y'all made this big deal about me being in the group and how special I was, but... as soon as she walked in, I didn't exist anymore. My efforts didn't matter anymore."
Will nearly snorted. "Cris, come on."
"No. I will not 'come on.' You asked me what was wrong, and I'm telling you. Don't discount my feelings."
"I'm not discounting—"
"Yes, you are!"
He sighed while pulling his hat further down onto his rubber-banded locs. "Well, what do you want me to say?"
"I don't want you to say anything, Will. I just... I just need some time alone."
It was evident that I wasn't in the right headspace to be talking to the male species right now, especially the types who were more focused on keeping my sadness at bay than actually figuring out what was wrong.
Shit, I never thought it'd be Will. It never was Will.
But at this moment, I would've preferred if he'd just had Ishaan's approach. As blunt as his goodbye was in the studio, I would rather you show me you don't care than for you to act like you do.
God, was the world turning upside down or something?
My gaze returned to the flying streetlights and rolling blocks of storefronts. The radio was turned up, and no other words were spoken all the way home.
I nearly left the car with nothing but a bad attitude but was halted just as I swung the door out.
"Cris."
My eyes found his while his hand found mine.
"I'm sorry if we all seemed... distracted tonight. It wasn't personal," he said.
"I know," I mumbled.
"I know you know, but you still felt invisible, right?"
"Yeah," I almost didn't want to admit it.
"And, I know that you know that you shouldn't feel threatened when another girl is in the studio with us."
I sighed shakily, beginning to feel stupid for not only having such childish emotions but not knowing how to deal with them.
"But you still felt that way, right?" he reached to dry the tears that quickly snuck up on me.
All I could do was nod, not even wanting to attempt to speak as a lump swelled in my throat.
"And, that's okay, Cris," he assured.
"No, it's not. It's stupid," I pushed his hand aside.
"Cris—"
"It's stupid, letting this small ass shit get to me. It's not that serious," I was dismissing my own feelings now, forcing away my tears and doing whatever I could to knock out the growing lump in my throat.
I withdrew myself from him and continued getting out of the car. "Thanks for the ride. I'll see you tomorrow."
I didn't wait for his response, closing the car door and marching into the building I resided in.
I completed the typical routine, when I was in a melancholic mood.
It was crazy— when I was leaving the studio, I was planning on rolling a blunt and ranting on the phone to Xena about how pissed I was. Now, I was soaking in silence.
I took a bath, slouching in the pit of bubbles as I thought about how good of a time everyone was having without me.
Shit wasn't like this before we got signed. Shit wasn't even like this, when we were working with Ice.
Shit wasn't perfect either, especially not with 'Shaany and me, but it never felt like this.
Maybe I was being dramatic, letting childhood wounds dictate my adult actions. Maybe I was justified, the growing pile of neglect being plopped onto my plate finally getting to me.
How could I prove that I was still valuable to the group? How could I show that I wasn't just serious about propelling I.V. forward but that I had ideas worth pursuing, just like 'Shaany did?
I thought about it for a long time, my thoughts carrying me through my nightly routine.
I lied in bed, staring at the ceiling.
I thought about Will's words, not the ones from tonight. I wouldn't even let him get any substantial words in before I was out of his car.
It was the ones from the night I met Dominic that were creeping into my psyche.
How nothing lasts forever, how we're gonna be okay, how we're like four pillars.
I almost smiled at the thought. Man, if nothing else, he was going to drill that four pillars shit into our heads until he couldn't anymore.
I curled up to my pillow, wishing I had someone to hold.
My mind continued turning over, thoughts bleeding into my dreams as I dozed off.
I awakened in the late hours of the morning. The stillness of my home remained, only becoming disturbed as I got up and made myself breakfast.
My mind felt clearer than it did last night, the scars of neglect feeling just as distant now as the ones from childhood.
I was in a creative mood— definitely more creative than I've been feeling in the last couple of weeks.
Although I'd started feeling useless in our studio sessions, I suppose it was for the best that I didn't get on the mic.
I was still warming up to our sound team, adjusting to the bells and whistles of a real recording studio, and hadn't been writing my best, no matter how much ink I'd been using in my pen.
But today, I felt like I was in my element, and I reached out to the very person who knew just how to make the best of my creativity.
"Hello?" his smooth voice was gritty with morning sleepiness.
"Issac!"
"Oh, shit. What's up, Cris? It's been a minute, huh?" he chuckled.
"More than a minute— too damn long!" I couldn't believe that we hadn't spoken in nearly a month.
The last time I saw him, we were catching him up on all the excitement of signing a record deal. He was proud, real proud.
He laughed softly. "So, what's up?"
"You free today? I wanna make a song."
"Just you?"
"Yeah. I wanna see if I can come up with anything to bring back to the boys."
"Bet. You got any particular sound you're going for?"
"Just play me everything you've got, when I get there. A'ight?"
"Ay, ay, captain."
I smiled slightly. "See you soon."
"Soon."
I got dressed quickly, throwing on a skully along with my coat before making my way to Jersey. I had my Walkman and my rhyme book in tote as I braved the frigid weather.
Within less than an hour, I was settling in a seat next to Ice and going through his wide array of beats.
"Something that can pump in the speakers but isn't hard," was the only means of direction I gave him, attempting to use words similar to what Stephen told us he wanted.
"Hm," he thought momentarily, flipping through his collection of self-made instrumentals.
He pulled a couple of tapes, playing quite a few of them before I voiced that I wasn't really finding what I thought would appease our A&R rep.
"Well, what do you like? What do you want?" he asked.
It was something I hadn't really thought about, let alone been asked.
Huh, it was funny. All this time feeling like my opinion didn't matter, and here I was being asked for it and having nothing to say.
"Um... Something that feels warm, like with some keyboard notes. A bassline that has a groove to it but doesn't overtake the whole thing... Something that kinda reminds me of summer— something nostalgic!" I suddenly remembered the conversation that took place only a few studio sessions ago— how we wanted to tap into the sounds from our childhood.
Ice pondered my words, searching through what he had momentarily.
"Oh! You know what?" he snapped his fingers before reaching across me for another pile of tapes. "I was workin' on something the other day. I could add keys if you want, if you like it."
He pulled up what he had thus far, and the beat and bassline was exactly what I was going for. Now, it was a matter of what keys he was considering.
"I've been listening to this Patrice Rushen joint like crazy, and that lady is fuckin' genius, yo... That's where I got the bassline. I could add some of the keys from there too."
"What they sound like?"
He reached over me again, grabbing an old record and shifting his whole set up. The record was placed under a needle just before he stood and hooked up the keyboard that typically remained dormant, leaning against a wall.
"There's this really cool solo a little towards the end. We could take parts of that," he prepped me as the song played on.
I finally heard what he was talking about, nodding in approval just before he carefully lifted the needle and removed the vinyl. "A'ight, so I was thinkin' we could use a little bit of the note choices in the middle, especially the arpeggios, but I was thinkin' we could also play with the runs she does."
In those moments, adding his own spin to a classic, I saw a glimpse of the musical genius that the world would come to know in years' time.
He found the key of the song within seconds, replicating some of the things done on the record before taking it apart and taking pieces and feeling his way into a repetitive melody. His fingers ran up the keys before teetering and looping.
I watched in awe as he played again and again, imitating the bare beat he'd made with his mouth.
"What'chu thinkin'?" he asked after a while, head still nodding as he awaited an answer.
A smile grew on my face and remained as I shook my head. "I think I better start writing."
Hours went by, and after continuing to tweak the beat and brainstorm other elements to add, he was insisting that I go ahead and record a demo of what we'd created, even though it wasn't finished.
"Without the hook we wanted to add?" I asked.
"We can do that later. Besides, we need a singer for that, right?"
I gasped. This was my second chance at putting Xena on a record. "Can I use your phone?"
"Uh, yeah," Ice raised an eyebrow before I raced up the stairs of his basement.
I found the phone, greeting his mother along the way, and dialed as fast as humanly possible.
"Hello?"
"Xena, what'chu doin'?"
"Getting ready to visit my grandma in Jersey."
"That's perfect! You think you could stop over here real quick?"
"Over where? Cris—"
"Jersey! I'm working on something for the boys, and I need you on it!"
"I thought I got replaced."
"This is something else. Who told you that?" my face became scrunched at the realization that I hadn't had the chance to tell her that myself.
"Ishaan."
I rolled my eyes.
"He called me last night, saying that you was mad they got some other girl to sing my part."
"Why was he tellin' you that? How does he have your number?"
She dodged the question. "Where in Jersey do you need me to be? I can't stay for long. My grandma's hosting dinner, and I'm tryna' throw down."
"You and 'Shaany fuckin'?" my jaw dropped.
"Girl, no! Give me an address before I hang up this phone!"
I laughed and did just that before heading back downstairs.
I did an excited bounce back to the mic.
"You ready?" Ice chuckled.
"Uh-huh, and my girl, Xena, is on her way to sing the hook," I nodded my head.
"Next time, give me a heads up before you start inviting random people to my crib."
"Sorry," I smiled awkwardly while he shook his head with another snicker.
The beat began, and my verses were laid with ease. It took a couple of times to get it just right, but in the end, we were both satisfied with our rough draft.
"Thanks again, Issac... for doin' this and entertaining me today," I smiled slightly, settling back in my seat.
"It's nothin'. I miss the crew anyway. How's Eudora life?" he straightened up some pieces of equipment and cautiously untangled wires while we awaited Xena's arrival.
"It's... different," I nodded.
"That didn't sound confident," he smirked.
I gave a breath of laughter. "I mean... it has been different, but I think it's changing the dynamic... Maybe the dynamic was already changing, and this just magnified it."
"Changing for the better, I hope," he glanced over his shoulder at me.
"I hope so too," my smile was a bittersweet one.
"Hey, don't stress about it... Change is intimidating, to say the least, but it's a necessary evil. You know?" he said.
"Yeah," I muttered, glancing down at my twiddling fingers.
"As long as these changes aren't, you know, jeopardizing the unity of the group, you'll be fine... Everything else can be dealt with, together."
"Together," I repeated softly.
Footsteps crept down the stairs of the basement and with them came Xena.
"Xena!" I cheered upon standing from my seat.
"Hey, girl. This space is dope," she nodded, meeting me halfway for a hug.
"Yeah, this is Ice's crib. He was our DJ, at the showcase," I introduced the two.
"Hey, what's up?" he greeted while holding out his hand.
"Hey, yeah. I remember you. You kept the show tight," she nodded as they shook hands.
"Thanks, and your show was pretty dope too," he smiled slightly, and she smiled too.
"Okay, this is what I need you to sing. Issac, play the beat," I pulled her hand from his and led her right to the mic.
I directed her on what to sing, trying my best to sound how everything sounded in my head.
"Isn't this the words to that Lisa Lisa joint from back in the day?" she quizzed.
"Yes, but the way you sing it is different. Issac, can you play what we talked about on the piano?"
He did as I requested, and I followed his lead, easing Xena into doing the same. Slowly, she started getting the hang of the melody, and within half an hour, we had her vocals recorded.
I thanked her for her time and wished her a great dinner. Her and Ice shook hands, and soon enough, I was getting ready to make my exit too.
"Thanks again, Ice. It was good seein' you," my arms were wrapped around his torso.
"You too, Cris. We gotta do this more often," he chuckled.
"Definitely!" I affirmed with a vigorous nod.
He gave me the demo tape topped with a forehead kiss before childishly pulling my skully over my eyes.
I shoved him backwards and readjusted my hat while he laughed. We said our goodbyes, and I found my way back to my residential borough.
I walked home, finding a bouquet of flowers in front of my apartment door.
I picked the flora up, carrying it inside once my door was unlocked. I set it in my living room, searching for any note attached before finding that my mini-quest had proven successful.
"To Crystal,
Just to remind you how special you are."
I smiled broadly at the gesture, this serving as the cherry on a great sundae of a day. This was the perfect mindstate to enter tonight's recording session for I.V.
So, after setting my Walkman in its regular spot and placing my demo on top of my dresser, I headed over to the studio.
I was the last to arrive, Will lighting up at the sight of me and drawing everyone's attention toward me.
"Cris!"
"Hey, guys," I greeted everyone as I usually would with hugs or glances of acknowledgement.
"You're just in time. We were askin' Will what he's gonna do for his birthday," Kadence stated.
"Yeah, and he doesn't wanna go to the strip club," Tony scoffed, being the last who received a hug.
Just as I began to step away, he beckoned me to remain close, holding my hand to his chest in the same way I'd do so myself every other session— every other one besides the one last night.
I let him have his way for only a moment while Will talked but soon continued making my way to my usual corner.
Will planned on getting a real I.D., since he was finally turning 21, and hittin' a new club that his friend— probably Dom— had been raving about.
Sounded good enough to me. No doubt he'd have fun, especially since Will was known to have fun wherever he went, no matter the occasion. If anything, his birthday would be a more epic version of a typical Thursday night.
The thought of it was funny, but I was happy for him. A lot of people we grew up with didn't make it to 18, so 21 deserved to be celebrated with as much as we could give it.
The night was relatively fine. "Sugar Hill" was finished last night, leaving plenty of time to start new songs and finish other projects.
I voiced that I had a song ready for them, only to be told that they had more important priorities at hand. I insisted that they'd really like it, if they gave it a chance.
"I don't doubt that we would, Cris, but—"
Will interrupted Ishaan. "What'chu got?"
"It's a whole demo that me and Ice—"
"You got it on you?"
"It's at home, but I think it really hits what Stephen was talking about," I affirmed.
Skepticism wafted in the air, and Ishaan was the first to voice his. The other boys only agreed, trying to let me down easy in doing so.
Whatever.
Maybe I'll get a second opinion. Maybe build my confidence a little before officially presenting it to them. That way I knew I wasn't crazy about this potentially being a hit for us.
Besides, I knew how result-oriented the boys were. They'd see things my way sooner than later.
Over the course of the night, Tony made his way over to my corner as usual.
I kept from rolling my eyes at him, even as he stretched and insisted on taking up as much space as possible.
"What's up, Donna?"
"Nothing."
"Your head feelin' better?"
"I wouldn't be here, if it didn't," I relied heavily on my cold shoulder.
"A'ight," he smiled with his eyes tracing my attire.
"This look you've been doin' lately is nice," he complimented as I peeled open my book of rhymes.
I ignored him, making him scoff and lean closer to me.
"You mad at me or somethin'?"
I almost laughed, smiling sweetly at him before asking, "Now, why would I be mad at you, Antonio?"
He knew why, and the answer swirled in his eyes— the real answer.
Things were quiet between us for the remainder of our session, the only thing we exchanged being quick glances.
We needed to talk, and we had a nonverbal agreement that we would in his car.
When the session wrapped, goodbyes were shared, and I was leading the way to his vehicle.
It took a few minutes to warm up— not just his car but the feeling of comfortability between us.
"I didn't think that I would need to explain mys—"
"Do you like me, Tony? Like, at all?" I prompted before he could get started with his mind tricks.
"Of course," he scoffed.
"Then how did I become invisible last night?"
"That wasn't my intention—"
"It doesn't matter that it wasn't your intention. It still happened."
"Cris, it's not like everybody was excluding you from being in the mix. You chose to sit alone and pout... It's the same 'outsider' shit I been tellin' you about, since last year."
"What 'outsider' shit?" I scoffed.
"How you act like an outsider instead of actively being a part of the team."
"I had a headache, Tony. I didn't just choose to sit alone and pout," I rolled my eyes.
"Yo, why you lyin'?" he kissed his teeth.
"I'm not—"
"You didn't have no fuckin' headache. You just couldn't handle not being the center of attention."
"It's not about being the center of attention. It's about being seen... Just being seen. Being heard. Being acknowledged," I corrected his assumption.
"We did that."
"Yeah, when I was fucking leaving," I nodded.
"Would you have preferred that we didn't care that you left?" he asked.
I glanced out of the window.
"Huh?" he urged.
I didn't answer.
"I mean, shit, Crystal... What do you want from us?"
I folded my arms, fighting back tears as I turned away from him even more. I was momentarily quiet, not giving an answer until the vehicle halted in traffic.
"You can stop saying 'we' and 'us,'" I mumbled, making it plain that this wasn't about the group.
The previous question became rephrased. "What do you want from me, Cris?"
"Be straight up with me."
"I'm always straight up with y—"
"Do you like me... in the way that you like Deanna?" I felt so incredibly small. Pathetic was a more fitting word, to be frank.
"I don't like Deanna romantically," he said.
Oh, please.
My silence was enough for him to know my thoughts.
"I'm serious... I mean, we might've hooked up once, but we're not interested in each other like that," he shook his head.
"Does she know that?"
"Yeah! She was the one that insisted we keep things where they are," he scoffed.
"So, you don't like her romantically... So, do you like me like you like her?"
"Yeah... I mean— you're cool. You're my homegirl, and you're funny as hell... What's there not to like?" he asked.
I sulked in my seat, my heart sinking at disappointments realized. "Okay," was all I could muster up.
He picked up on my saddened demeanor, his eyes lasering into me even as I turned away from him again.
"I didn't mean to... I'm sorry for lettin' you down, Cris... but you know, if things were different—"
I nearly laughed. "Different," I shook my head, only thinking of an earlier conversation I had with Ice. Crazy how easily the weight of a word could change.
"Yeah... if shit was different, there's no tellin' where either of us would end up, but... I'm tryna' work shit out with my baby mama right now and—"
"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Tony," my hand raised as I halted him although I still didn't bother to look at him.
The flow of traffic resumed, the rest of my ride home being a quiet one, void of any dialogue.
I didn't bother to say goodbye, making my way inside of my building without looking back.
That's what I get for getting my hopes up. That's what I get for latching myself onto the first man that was showing me any level of kindness.
Old habits die hard.
My great day had been washed out with somberness just as it was concluding.
I geared up for my routine of bubble baths and blunts, searching for a tape to play while my bathtub was filled with lavender scented water.
However, I was interrupted by the ringing of my telephone.
Who could've been calling at this hour? Concern flooded my veins at the thought of something drastic happening to one of the boys or Tiffany.
"Hello?"
"What's up, Cris?"
Maceo.
I sighed deeply, partly out of the relief that nothing crazy had happened.
"Hey, Mace."
"How are you?"
"Tired."
"Yo, my bad. Did I wake you?"
"No. I'm just... tired," I leaned against my fridge.
"Word... I didn't mean to bother you. I just hadn't done my daily call," he chuckled awkwardly.
"Yeah," was all I had to offer.
"Did you get the flowers I sent?"
My eyes found the same bouquet I carried in hours ago.
"Yeah," I was a little sad that they hadn't come from Will, as I initially thought.
"What'd you think? I got you different flowers than usual."
"They're really nice, Maceo... Thank you," I answered.
"It's nothin', mamas. I just wanted to do somethin' nice for you, especially since it's been a minute since the last time I have."
"You give me money on a bi-weekly basis, Maceo," I scoffed.
"Yeah, but what's special about that?"
My laughter was expressed in only a sharp exhale.
He added, "I know money don't impress you... or does it, now that you're signed?"
I didn't indulge him with a full laugh, but he chuckled anyway.
"Let the jokes commence," I shook my head, having forgotten that he thought he was a stand-up comedian.
He laughed. "I'm just playing... How's the rap life though? Congrats on the signing— I never got to tell you. I'll send you a bottle of champagne or somethin'... Cristal for Cristal."
I playfully rolled my eyes. "I guess I should get used to those jokes, huh?"
"Oh, definitely. You're gonna hear it at every party, club appearance, and restaurant for the rest of your life," he snickered.
"Can't wait," I sarcastically replied with a slight smile.
It was quiet on the line, the silence between us reminding me that I had a bath to tend to.
"Well, I gotta go, Mace. I got my bath runnin'."
"Oh, yeah... Yeah, I'll, uh, talk to you later."
"Yeah," I nodded.
It was quiet for a moment more before he spoke up again. "Cris?"
"Yeah."
"It was good talkin' to you."
I guess it'd been a while since we actually had a conversation that wasn't cut short by my receiver being slammed onto its hook.
"Yeah, it was," I smiled only a small amount.
"A'ight, well... Have a good night."'
"You too."
The call ended, and for the next week and a half, we talked on the phone every night.