The Uber dropped Amara at the Channels TV complex twenty minutes early. She sat in the backseat with the window cracked, watching Lagos traffic cough and sputter outside. The driver asked if she was someone famous. She said she was just a singer. He nodded saying he had seen her somewhere which made Amara smile and not forgetting to tip him after she arrived at yer destination a studio which she came to interview.
The green room smelled of yesterday's coffee and hairspray. Toolz was shorter in person than she looked on television, but her presence filled the room the second she entered. She hugged Amara like they were old friends who'd lost touch.
"You're nervous," Toolz said. It wasn't a question.
"I sing faster when I'm nervous."
"Then we'll have a great show." Toolz sat across from her, not behind a desk, just two chairs angled toward each other. The crew was still adjusting lights. "Forty million streams on *PACE*. When I say that out loud, what happens in your body?"
