“A’ight. I’ll be right back.”
I dropped my gun in our bedroom, took a quick hot shower, threw on boxers and basketball shorts, grabbed a bottle of water, and headed back to the living room where Myome still sat. She was much more alert now. She was sitting crisscrossed, holding a cup with a straw, and staring at a reality television show like it was the best piece of visual media she’d ever seen.
“Make room.”
She lifted so I could collapse on the couch and she could lay on top of me. I let one of my legs hang off the side and immediately wrapped an arm around her and kissed her forehead.
“What’s up, Twin?”
“I don’t know if I’m going to survive my contract,” she said quietly.
My eyebrows knitted together. “The fuck you talkin’ about?” I looked down at her. “Where’d that come from? You told me press went well and they were extending the tour.”
“Yeah, but three albums can take a while, and with the way things are going with the group… I don’t know if I can do it,” she confessed. “I don’t know if I can do it and I’m terrified, Berlin.”
“There’s nothing to be scared of.” I pulled her hair back. “If this is what you want, you’ve got to make it work, even when you don’t want to, Yo. That’s just how it is in this game.” I exhaled. I hated seeing Myome down, especially when it was because of something neither of us could control. “You’re going to survive your contract. I ain’t letting you quit.”
She stuck her lip out as she looked up at me and traced little circles on my chest.
“I don’t want to quit… I just… I don’t know. I’m worried about failing and all the things that can go wrong with this tour. What if we don’t even sell well?”
“If you weren’t selling well, they wouldn’t have added dates.” I grabbed Myome’s throat and tilted her head back. “Get out of your head, Yo. Tour is going to go well. You’re going to perform and have the time of your life. I’ll fly out and see you in some cities and love on you. The album is going to go gold at least. It’s all going to work out.”
“You really think so?”
“I promise.”
She scoffed. “You can’t promise that.”
“I promise,” I repeated, leaning in and kissing her. “I promise,” I repeated.
She nodded. “Okay.”
Myome snuggled into me and I let my eyes fall shut as a yawn ripped through me. We lay in silence for a little as we traced each other.
“Do you want to go solo?” I asked after a while.
“I don’t know. I mean I like being in a group. I genuinely mean that. I just don’t know how long Retta and I will survive.”
“I get that but you can’t let one person or a few people even mess up something you’ve wanted your whole life.”
“Yeah. I know.” She exhaled. “Thanks for reassuring me, baby.”
“I mean every word.” I grinned and tapped her ass. “Come on. Let’s get you tucked in. We’ve got to start prepping for tour tomorrow.” I winked at her and she shook her head with a big smile but pushed herself up.
“You want to help me prep for tour?”
“That’s right.” I sat up, grabbed her waist, and pulled her in so she was standing between my legs. “I want to do whatever Ican to make sure you’re good, whether that has to do with tour, your family, the crib, or whatever else.”
Myome grabbed my face in both hands while her lip poked out.
“I love you, Berlin.”
“I love you too, Myome. For real. You got a nigga head gone. I promise.”
“Good.” She wrapped her arms around my neck. “Because you have my head gone too.” She climbed into my lap. “The worst thing about tour isn’t going to be covering makeup and costumes or traveling with Retta. The worst thing about going on tour is being away from you.”
“Yeah. For me too, Yo,” I admitted. “Me fucking too.”