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“Do you often listen to other singers, like um, say for exa—”
“Of course I do, sweetie. I love to.”
“—Like, a Mariah Carey, for example, uh... do you listen to Mariah Carey? By any chance?”
The interviewer sounds unreasonably eager. Whitney treats him to a very disapproving look, pinching her eyebrows questioningly. She inhales sharply on the “ah” vowel before she speaks. Singer’s instinct. “Well… I haven’t listened to much of her work but em." She smacks her lips. "I think she’s a good singer.”
It’s a rehearsed answer, one she’s given many times in the many instances she’s been asked a question like this.
The interviewer hums in consideration. He sounds like he’s about to jump in with another question, but Whitney cuts him off.
“And I, I listen to singers, you know. Real singers, and I think a real singer is like a… a real survivor, you know.” Whitney nods to herself thoughtfully. “Yeah— yeah, I think so. I mean, that’s why I’m a survivor! I’m a survivor!” She says, suddenly breaking out into the Destiny’s Child song, pumping her fist in the air.
“What the hell...” Mariah says, under her breath. “What exactly is she talking about.” She’s standing in front of the TV, tapping the pointed toe of her stiletto on the ground in quick succession.
“I don’t know,” Trey says. Mariah’s trusty, soft-spoken backup singer is splayed out on the couch behind her, loosely holding the remote in his hand. “Like. She’s a survivor.”
They’re in the makeshift recording studio of Mariah’s Los Angeles apartment. It’s a teeny tiny place; one could easily fit at least five of the sound booths into Mariah’s shoe closet in New York. Though it's fair to say that the shoe closet is just rather large.
There’s a television set and a sitting area right outside of the sound booth, where they are currently watching the Whitney interview. Mariah would usually have no interest in watching such things, given how cheap and prone to sensationalism TV interviews can be, but the things she’ll do for Trey. He was clearly very interested in seeing it. Even when he offered to change the channel, Mariah refused. For him.
“Well nobody’s surviving that haircut, darling.”
She can't help it. Whitney has on a caramel brown wig that poofs up and swoops down to the nape of her neck, choppy fringes hanging over her face. An obvious attempt at a Rachel Green but landing somewhere closer to a Mess.
Even her famous dazzling smile isn’t saving the look, especially because she isn’t smiling much in this interview. She seems annoyed, mostly. The colour of the wig does suit her complexion, though.
“Oh, don’t do that.” Trey admonishes. Mariah scowls and turns to face him.
“Do what?"
“Don’t make me have to pick between you and Whitney. Like I really don’t wanna do that.”
“Who’s making you do that?” Mariah laughs. “Who. Who?”
“Just don’t, Mi.”
“‘Cause I never asked you to do that. I never made you do that, even though she’s literally over here shading me on live TV, but no, you don’t have to—”
“Shading you?” Trey blinks at her. “Mariah, she is not shading you.”
“She is, and I can see that, and the interviewer can see that, and so will the whole goddamn media.” Mariah crosses her arms resolutely. She knows that she's loosing her composure, but it's fine. It's only Trey. No one else is around to see. She turns back to the TV to avoid looking at him.
There, Whitney is babbling on, clearly trying to distract the interviewer from the topic of Mariah Carey, and she seems to be succeeding. Good for her.
“But you know they’re all full of shit, Mimi.”
But are they? Mariah thought so too, at one point. The media was routinely twisting both of their words, concocting a drama out of nothing, trying to brew resentment in each of them. It's something anyone with eyes could see, but it seems like Whitney isn't resisting the narrative anymore.
Take this interview, for example. Whitney said she hasn’t listened to much of Mariah's work. Why did she say work like that? It sounded pretty sarcastic. Clearly she doesn't take Mariah's music seriously! And there’s no way Whitney hasn’t heard at least one album of hers. Mariah is the current "girl of the moment" in pop music—she hates to think of it that way, but it’s true. She’s dominating radio stations, the charts, sales, you name it. There’s no way someone as deeply involved in the music industry as Whitney would be unfamiliar with her work.
So she’s straight up lying to avoid giving an unpleasant answer, and that’s just nasty. And then, to top it off, she called her a good singer. That’s what she’s called her repeatedly in the press. Good. Singer. Mariah is not a good singer. She’s a great one, and even though her previous management didn’t like to admit it, she’s a great writer and producer, too. She’s the whole package, and if Whitney can’t see that now, she will soon.
Oh yes. She will soon.