Beyoncé looked at the sky. No stars. Just the orange haze of Houston light pollution.
She stood up. The others followed.
And then, the girl opened her mouth.
Her mother, Tina, had spent the afternoon ironing the hem of her glittering white dress. Her father, Mathew, was sitting in the back pew, arms crossed, eyes sharp. He had bet a fellow sound engineer fifty dollars that his daughter would bring the house down. He never lost bets. beyonce part 1