Gotta sing (pt. 2)

... I sang one of her songs to her.

Granted, I didn't sing the entire 4:30 version of the single, but only the first eight lines before heading to the chorus.

She gives me a who-does-this-skinny-white-boy-think-he-is-singing-a-song-by-an-R&B-diva? kind of looks, but I don’t care. I did it. I sang a song – out loud – to an actual singing star.

I quickly apologize for my act of sheer ballsiness. She tells me not to worry, that I’m good. I take this compliment and smile inside. I tell her she can now enter the building and if she needs anything, she can ask for me (this is standard protocol since I’m the celebrity relations manager).

Later on, some of my colleagues come up to me and ask why we were talking for such a long time. I tell them what happened and their reactions were all the same. Most of them had their mouths agape in the I-can’t-believe-he-had-the-balls-to-do-something-like-that kind of way.

I didn’t care. When you gotta sing, you gotta sing.