"What is so difficult about our rider?"
The trip from North Carolina to Virginia had been blissfully peaceful. Quiet. And then, the venue had to go and f*ck it all up.
"I don’t know, babe. Maybe they couldn’t find Skittles." Anthony shrugged helplessly. He was trying. I’d been on a rampage for over an hour, and the candy wasn’t even my request.
"Couldn’t find Skittles? They’re everywhere. Hell, they probably sell them at concessions!"
I flung my hands into the air and resumed pacing the dressing room. Some artists walked out when their riders weren’t correct. Some destroyed venues. Me? I wanted to find the booker and snap his little neck, before going on stage giving the people what they paid for.
"Why don’t we take a walk?" His suggestion was unwelcome.
"What does it look like I am doing?"
"That is not taking a walk. That is pacing. There’s a difference."