one shots

method to the madness [2/3]

"Miania, it's so good to see you," J-Wop, one of the A&R's of the label, greeted Mia with a hug.
"Hey, J. It's good to see you too. It's been a while," she noted.
"Yeah, I've been so busy finalizing everything with Meth. I'm so glad that it's all done with," the woman nodded in confirmation.

"Everything came out great. The album sounds dope. The cover is amazing—"
"Aw, thanks, girl. We worked our asses off for this shit. He was on tour with Wu for majority of the year, and there was  a flood in the producer's basement so all the tracks were lost— a whole lotta' bull that took place, but we made it," she sighed.
"That's great. . . It's far from over though. I know that much," Mia pointed out.
"Girl, yes! We've been doing promo this entire week, and we still have shit to do for these next couple of days. I have to see what these tour dates are looking like. Man," stress was overtaking the woman already.

Mia grabbed two glasses of champagne that were floating around on platters and handed one to J-Wop. "Well, relax while you can, J. Party up," she smiled before J gave a sincere smile and their glasses clinked.
"Party up," she repeated before they both drank from their glasses.

The label had rented out some space where elite cocktail parties and art shows are usually held. The party atmosphere was still wild regardless, especially with alcohol being served up and Method's album filling the air of the building. With good music and good booze, nothing was to go wrong. . . until Clifford and Mia caught eye contact.

They hadn't spoken since the night he brought her home nearly a week ago; however, it was hard to ignore the nerve-wracking feelings that consumed them once they caught sight of each other. Both were a little anxious, both were glad to see each other, both were terrified to speak to one another. . . However, small smiles and waves seemed to do the trick. . . at least for now.

Clifford had spent a good amount of time dipped off in a corner somewhere. It wasn't often that he partied, but he knew it'd be seen as rude to not show up to his own album release party, especially since the label is paying for it. If it were up to him, he would've just gone to the party that his clan of friends would be hosting in Brooklyn, and that would've been the only party to exist rather than this corporate listening party. He would've preferred to hit the stage with the guys he considered to be brothers and entertain people that would actually give him energy to feed off of.

The party in of itself was still cool though. A lot of other artists that he fucked with were in attendance, and everyone seemed to be enjoying the album that he'd spent so much time piecing together. He knew that labelheads were particularly excited, seeing as though he was projected to bring a lot of revenue into the currently struggling label. He didn't care about all of the politics that plagued the label so long as he was gettin' paid his worth and didn't have to hustle anymore.

In the midst of relaxing in what little shadows the well-lit venue provided and people-watching, he couldn't help but notice Mia. She was clad in a long, silk dress that was pink with a champagne quality to it. It had a slit up to the middle of her thigh, leaving her chocolate legs exposed under the fluorescent lighting of the room. Under the dress was a ringer t-shirt with the collar and the ends of the short sleeves matching the color of the dress. It was a color that complemented her. It made her skin glow. It made her undertones come to life. Clifford couldn't help but notice her smile more when she was dressed in such a beautiful color.