"Austin, I can't, I- I don't want to impose."
"It's not imposing if I insist Juliana."
I shook my head from side to side, in disbelief at the ridiculous decision I was on the verge of making. But as insane as it was, I wanted to wrap myself up in th...
"Can you atleast look like you give a shit about this meeting?" Dre leaned in to whisper over my shoulder as we sat around a large wooden table, accompanied by the Maison no. 9 marketing team.
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"No because I don't give a shit about this meeting. I didn't want to be here in the first place." I snapped back in a low voice, still infuriated at his denial of my time off, despite the fact that I had been released from the hospital only a few days prior. As much as Smitty tried to reason with him to give me my much deserved break, he simply brushed it off without as much of a blink of an eye, asked if I was okay after the accident and then wasted no time in dragging me along to this God forsaken meeting.
"This is your career we're doing this for. Forget about that girl and pull yourself together Post. You're making me look bad here." He mumbled, striking a nerve as I came to regret giving him any further details about the car accident. A part of me hoped that he had some sort of humanity hiding somewhere in his twisted mind and he would give me the time I needed to deal with the aftermath of the crash. But he didn't give an absolute fuck about how this entire situation was affecting me and my well being. I was not okay. Not in the slightest.
"I will walk out of here, do not test me." I seethed back, in no mood for his heartless attitude. I had had enough of his bullshit, always coercing me to make halfwitted decisions that were not mine to begin with.
"You walk out of here and I won't hesitate to announce your album tomorrow. You do not test me." He shot back, always wanting to get in the last word during our heated arguments. But this wasn't just mindless bickering, he was playing dirty and I wasn't going to stand for it.
"Go ahead and announce the album. Be my fucking guest, but no one will hear a single word from me. I won't show up to any PR events, no appearances, no concerts, no tour. There is no Post Malone without me, don't forget that." I growled just before I stood up from my seat, Dre's mouth left ajar as he for once had nothing left to say.
"I'll be in touch regarding the new design of the wine bottles. Just send over your ideas once they're completed and we'll proceed from there. If you'll excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be." I announced to the table full of executives that I had recently hired for my wine company.
They all gave me nods of agreement as they looked around at one another in slight confusion as I cut the meeting short. I grabbed for a case of the wine that was sitting off to the side before heading out of the exit, making my way towards my white Rolls Royce Phantom.
"Post!" I heard Dre's voice from behind me as I unlocked the drivers side door.
I rolled my eyes, not bothering to turn around as I pulled the handle, quickly sliding into the front seat just before I carefully placed the box onto the floor of the passengers side.
"Austin look, I'm sorry man. I was way out of line. I shouldn't have taken it that far. I'm just- concerned about your career. I only want what's best for you." He pleaded through my open window as I pressed the start button, the sound of my roaring engine nearly drowning out his pathetic attempt to patch things up.
