In the entire North American music scene, there's probably only one person bold enough to throw tantrums and act like a diva for the wildest, most ridiculous reasons—and still not change a bit despite the endless backlash from media and fans: Mariah Carey.
Honestly, it might even be true worldwide.
Ditching a reporter because her pet isn't feeling well, or pushing a pre-scheduled interview back two hours? That's not even surprising. This superstar doesn't care who you are—if she's not vibing, she'll clap back without hesitation.
She's had beef with Eminem, trading diss tracks back and forth. In an interview, she casually shaded Madonna, saying she's past her prime. On a talk show, when asked to name three good things about Nicki Minaj, she fired back, "Can you?"
Simply put, Mariah can start a feud with a breezy smile. Alongside supermodel Naomi Campbell—another legend in the art of throwing shade—they're like the literary and martial pillars of drama.
Of course, her most iconic moment came a decade ago at the turn of the century. When a reporter asked, "What do you think of Jennifer Lopez?" she dropped the now-legendary line: "I don't know her." Twenty years later, it's still everywhere.
The bad blood between Mariah and J.Lo goes way back to 1997. Mariah was splitting from her then-husband, Sony Music exec Tommy Mottola, who was pushing hard to make newbie Jennifer a star—putting her in direct competition with Mariah. The seeds were planted.
In 1998, Sony took a demo Mariah was set to record and handed it to Jennifer. J.Lo recorded and released it first, and that song—"If You Had My Love"—became her first Billboard number-one hit. Mariah, who adored the track, scrambled to resample and rearrange it, releasing "Can't Take That Away." But it stalled at number two on the charts, unable to climb higher. That's when the feud really locked in.
Back then, Jennifer was on fire—singles, albums, movies, all hitting big. Meanwhile, Mariah hit her first career slump. Her album Rainbow tanked hard, and Sony cut ties with her, eating a $28 million loss.
So, in that infamous interview, Mariah delivered her historic zinger: "I don't know her."
Years later, they still hadn't made up. At an awards show, while Mariah performed, the camera caught J.Lo scrolling on her phone. When reporters brought it up, Mariah doubled down with a fresh gem: "I still don't know her."
When it comes to making enemies, Mariah fears no one.
Even outsiders have heard the stories, so someone like Julio—an industry insider—knew them well. He patted the guy's shoulder with a grin. "At least she didn't cancel the interview outright and say she'll never know you."
Wyatt Garcia choked a little, almost saying, "She wouldn't dare." After all, no singer in North America would risk blacklisting Rolling Stone magazine. But then he remembered who they were talking about—Mariah—and his confidence wobbled.
Maybe it was because of Rolling Stone's clout that she only delayed the interview by two hours instead of bailing. And yeah, it still went through.
This time, Mariah was back in the spotlight. She'd signed on as a judge for American Idol's twelfth season, set to share the panel with Nicki Minaj—already a tense combo. It was drawing tons of attention early on, and Wyatt had a feeling they'd be dealing with Mariah for a while.
He sighed, annoyed, and muttered, "It's our honor to get an audience with the Butterfly Queen."
Julio chuckled, letting it slide, then turned to the other reporter with a big smile. "What brings you two together?"
"Just ran into each other at the door," Buster Wayne said with a friendly nod, keeping a slight distance.
They were both reporters, sure, but Buster knew they weren't the same.
Wyatt was with Rolling Stone, the top music mag in North America, respected worldwide. Buster? A freelance writer, blogging, tweeting, pitching to whatever mags or papers would take him. No big backing, just him.
Same job title, different worlds—work style, pay, status, all of it. Mainstream journalists often scoffed at freelancers like him, born from the internet age, calling them unprofessional hacks. Only a few saw it as the natural evolution of the times.
So Buster stayed polite but didn't push to buddy up.
Wyatt didn't look down on him or anything—he just wasn't in the mood. Mariah's dawdling had thrown off his schedule, and now he had to hustle. Two deadlines loomed tonight, so he cut to the chase.
"This the emergency fill-in band? Any resume or background?" Wyatt jerked his chin toward the stage.
Bruno Mars' world tour was winding down, and music journalists were already prepping wrap-up pieces. Then the Brazil snag hit, and the press jumped on it, tracking every move, hoping the tour would finish strong.
Today, Wyatt and Buster were here at the official invite of Bruno's manager. They were digging for material on the tour's North American return, reassuring fans the shows would go on, no hiccups.
Wyatt repped the pro music press; Buster, the online crowd. No need for a big splash—just two channels dropping the word was plenty.
Julio shifted over, making room for Buster, who gave him a quick smile in return.
"Indie band. No resume, no big background," Julio explained. "You know Bruno—it's all about the music. Their sound stood out, so he picked them. The rest? Doesn't matter. That said, there's still a lot up in the air. We're cutting it close to the tour date, and we're not even sure if rehearsals will wrap up smooth."