paint me like one of your french girls (gxg)

gold mine

(mayson's suit, the watch, the family ring, and car)

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Mayson

"Hey Craig?" I ask Mr. Jackson. It was the Friday before the gala and me and Ryan had just come home from school.

"Hm?" He replies not paying any attention to me due to the newspaper he was reading.

"Can you drop me off to go pick up a suit tomorrow morning?" I ask hopefully.

At that Mr. Jackson finally puts down his paper and looks up at me incredulously, "A suit? As in the one you wear to formal shit?"

"Yeah." I nod.

"Now where in God's name did you find money to get a suit?" He frowns, "I swear Mayson if you dealing drugs, imma whoop you, don't play with me." He warns, pointing a finger at me.

"I'm not dealing drugs!" I say defensively, "I'm just going to this ball, gala, fundraiser thing and I need to pick up a suit I got tailored-" I try to explain.

"You said tailored?" Mr. Jackson asks with wide eyes, "As in you got a custom suit?" He sputters.

"Yeah?" I say hesitantly, "Paris, the friend I introduced to you that one time, got it for me. She's the reason I'm going in the first place."

Mr. Jackson closes his mouth and walks around the counter, "Come here, let me holla at you." He says and comes to stand right in front of me, putting his hands on my shoulders, "I don't know how you found this girl or what you did to deserve her, but she's a gold mine do you hear me?" He explains slowly, "And not just physically, figuratively too. Woman like this come once in a lifetime, don't fuck it up." He warns.

"Thanks for the confidence booster." I mutter sarcastically.

He snorts and let's go of my shoulders, "Yeah I'll take you, where y'all going, anyway?" He asks making his way back around the counter.

"Some Christmas fundraiser, masquerade ball thing." I shrug.

At that Mr. Jackson immediately stops in his tracks and slowly turns around towards me, "Fundraiser? As in that boujee ass gala those rich folks from ya' school throw every year?" He sputters.

I roll my eyes at his antics, "Yes, why do you keep doing that?" I mutter referring to the way he kept asking me questions.

He quickly walks towards me and puts his hands on my shoulders again, this time shaking them, "Mayson do you have any idea what this means?" He grins.

"Uh, no? But I don't think it has anything to do with my shoulders so if you wouldn't mind letting go-" I grimace.

"It means you got an in! I've been trying to get invited to that thing for years!" He exclaims, shaking my shoulders more aggressively.

I fix my glasses annoyed, "I don't think it works like that considering I was invited as a plus one, not an actually guest. And besides it's a masquerade ball, no one is gonna know who I am anyways." I explain.

At that, Mr. Jackson visibly deflates and let's go of my shoulders, turning around and walking back around the counter, muttering profanities under his breathe.

I raise my eyebrows, "So does that mean you'll take me?" I ask.

"Yeah, yeah whatever I'll take ya'." He grumbles, snatching his newspaper and walking off.

I chuckle and start playing with the bell, thinking about tomorrow.

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