"Right here is fine, thank you." You sent your Uber driver a modest smile as he halted the vehicle a few homes away from your destination. You'd rather walk the rest of the way than be caught dead pulling up to the hottest album release party of the century in a fucking Uber. Nope, no ma'am. Not this bitch. You collected your black YSL clutch, drawing it over your shoulder as you effortlessly clambered out of the Uber. You bit onto your lower lip as you readjusted and tugged onto the material of your mini dress, suddenly feeling overly exposed and self-conscious.
You were beginning to have second thoughts. 'Maybe I shouldn't have come?' You thought to yourself as the anxiety began to settle in, standing in the middle of the road. Your eyes trained on the tail lights of the Uber which began to drive away, fading further and further down the street until it disappeared. You could already begin to hear the boisterous melodies of laughter and upbeat music from the party you were supposed to be attending.
It was your second week in LA, and you absolutely loved it here. It was much different than what you were used to, since being from a small ass town in Pennsylvania. You did a few modelling gigs here and there, but your immediate objective was to become an actress. Word around the street was there was supposed to be an extremely memorable artist hosting an album release shindig. You weren't sure how factual that was, but thought it might be worth showing your face and obtaining a little bit of exposure. As you began to stride down the sidewalk, you took note of all the luxurious vehicles which stationed along either side of the road; ranging from Lamborghini's, Maybach's, and G Wagons. You raised an eyebrow, wondering which one of these whips belonged to the notorious rapper everyone was here to support.
"Ayo shawty, lemme holl'atcha real quick!" You ignored the futile comment that was made your way as you began to approach the mansion. Rolling your eyes at the abominable, barley 4'9 male that dared speak your way. 'These niggas got some fuckin' nerve..' You thought to yourself as you entered into the front yard. You tried not to gawk at the sight of the mansion, but it was hard. It was huge. No, colossal. It appeared to be 4 stories tall, but you could've been way off. That feeling of anxiousness suddenly returned and you pressed on your stomach lightly, in order to subdue the butterflies.
"I shouldn't have came in this bitch alone.." You mumbled to yourself as you gazed around, watching as people chatted and stood around on the front lawn, clearly enjoying themselves even with the pestering LA heat.
---
'Uh, I'm thinkin' 'bout dyin' my hair red just to look like a pint of red
I like all of my cups so dirty, I been sippin' that Bloody Mary
I mix all of problems and Prometh' until I roll on my death bed
Don't get close, uh, baby, don't get too close'
You nodded your head to the beat of the unknown song, your eyes scanning around the entrance hall of the Mansion as you shut the front door behind you. The inside of the home was still pretty congested, but outside seemed to be where the real party resided. The atmosphere was unquestionably different and less rowdy. You ambled through the halls, your hips sashaying naturally as you took in the different paintings of framed art which littered across the cream coloured walls. You needed a fucking drink, stat.
'Don't get close, yeah, baby, don't get too close
What you don't know, it won't hurt 'cause you don't know (what?)
What you don't know (yeah), it won't hurt 'cause you don't know'
"Pablo Picasso," Someone uttered beside you and you jumped, nearly pissing yourself as your head whipped to the side. You eyed the male curiously, taking in his features; he had bright red dreadlocks, smooth brown skin, and a distinguishable birthmark on the side of his face. He was about a foot taller than you were, and had on a plain white Givenchy t-shirt with dark denim jeans and a black leather jacket. He had on several tennis bracelets and iced out chains, not to mention he had an entire set of grills in his mouth. He had on several goth aesthetic rings, one of them in the shape of a skull. He smelled amazing; like old spice mixed with honeysuckle. You swallowed thickly, instantly finding him attractive which was abnormal for you. You normally didn't go for men who had dreadlocks.
