Life Is Not a Fairy Tale by Fantasia (e book reader free TXT) 📕

I didn’t want to be disappointed, so I focused on how far I had come instead of what would happen if I won. I thought that America had been generous enough to vote me this far. I thanked God in advance for letting me have this opportunity. I regretted that it might be impossible for me to win, but I had made peace with what the decision was going to be.

Ryan Seacrest came to the stage to announce the winner. He said a few words about the season, and his lips were moving but I couldn’t understand a word he was sayin’. I opened my eyes a little bit at a time, thinking that Diana DeGarmo would be on the screen. Instead I looked up to see ’Tasia. Ryan Seacrest was sayingmy name: “The American Idol for 2004 is Fantasia Barrino!” I couldn’t believe it. All I had wanted was for one person to hear me sing, and 65 million people heard me and voted for me to be the 2004 American Idol. That was more votes than George W. Bush got. God was standing on that stage. He had been for months. He had been in Georgia with me for both of those auditions. He had brought me to Hollywood and got me through that grueling time, He had got me to the Top 12 and to the Top 2. Being the winner was nothing that I expected. I didn’t know how to feel about it but to cry and praise God. He had answered the prayers. My tears poured from my eyes. God’s hand was upon me. Emotions were flooding within me. I felt shaky and buckled under my knees. The heel of my new shoe broke, but I didn’t even realize it at first. When Ryan Seacrest broke through my dazed wall of emotions and tears, he said, “Why are you crying?” and all I could say was, “I done broke my heel!” Everyone laughed. The 2004 American Idol was still just like y’all.

As the winner of theAmerican Idol competition, I was awarded a Ford Focus and a record deal thatcould be worth a million dollars. The record deal was with 19 Recordings and Clive Davis on his new label, J Records. It was overwhelming, considering where I came from. I still didn’t know how to react or how to act. I still didn’t believe it.

The record deal at J Records seemed like some kind of dream that I would be livin’ in. Clive Davis is the man who discovered some of the most unique and unforgettable voices in music: Whitney Houston, Toni Braxton, Alicia Keys, Carlos Santana, and Bruce Springsteen. Was he the one person that God wanted to hear me?

The fact that Clive Davis heard me, met me, and wanted to work with me was beyond belief. I had met Mr. Davis once before in the Top 3 competition. He had been one of the guest judges for this round. He came backstage before the performance and met the three final contestants. He shook hands with Diana DeGarmo and Jasmine Trias and then he came over to me. I expected him to shake my hand as he did the others. Instead, he looked at me and said, “I want you to go out there and sing like you ain’t never sang before.” I said, startled, “Yes, sir.” He left me in shock. I went out and did what he asked me to do, and he had the biggest smile on his face the whole time I was singing. I felt so comfortable and confident that I went right to where the judges were sitting and started singing to him. Clive Davis was singin’ with me and dancin’. He was feelin’ it.

After I won the following week, I was called to a meeting with Mr. Davis in his J Records office in New York. Mr. Davis’s assistant had called and said that he wanted me to come in. I was very nervous. What do you say to an awesome music man? What was I gonna say to someone who is so powerful, mysterious, and invincible? I worried. I decided to just be cool and beme. I wouldn’t even have known how to pretend to be a different way.

Clive Davis was sitting in a huge brown leather chair. He seemed slumped down, because the chair was so tall. Mr. Davis was twiddling his fingers. When I walked into his beautiful office, he stood up, walked away from the chair, and gave me a kiss. I could smell his cologne and that reminded me of my daddy. Mr. Davis was a groomed man. He walked me around his office, pointing to all the photographs of people he had worked with: Aretha, Whitney, Alicia. I had a smile on my face. He motioned for me to sit down across from him. He had returned to the too-big-for-him chair. He started the conversation by saying, “I want you to tell me, what kind of music do you want to do?” I said, “I am down for doin’ anything, but I just want it to be real. I want to make ugly faces when I’m singin’ my songs. I just want to be me.”

Mr. Davis started playing me some beats, and I was impressed with howhot the beats were. Clive ison it, I thought to myself. He asked me, “How do you like those beats?” I said jokingly, “You are gangsta!” The whole room became quiet, no one knowing how Mr. Davis would receive such a remark from someone like me. It was dead quiet. Then Mr. Davis started laughing and said to everyone in the room, “Did you hear that, she called me gangsta!” He thought it was really funny. I was slightly embarrassed that I said it like that, but that was what was going through my mind and it was the realest thought that I had at that moment.

The meeting was a success, and all of my