ᴀ ʙʟᴜᴜᴠꜱ ᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ.
❝ᴀᴍ ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇᴅ ʙʀᴀᴛ ᴡʜᴏ ᴛᴀᴜɢʜᴛ ᴛʜᴇᴍꜱᴇʟᴠᴇꜱ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀʏ, ᴡʜᴏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏ ᴘʀᴇᴄᴏɴᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ɴᴏᴡ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀ ʟɪᴇ?❞
𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇, a privileged teenage girl with anger issues is sent to new york, where she meets
the son of...
"WELL BABY YOU better figure it out. i'm not there with you to help you." mackenza's mom's voice came through the airpods crisply as mackenza laid sprawled facedown on her bed.
mackenza couldn't help but roll her eyes; it was clear she was on her own, and her mother's words seemed to only try to emphasize that fact. "i know," she muttered, reluctantly sitting up. she had been venting about not knowing how to manage her hair—unsure of how to fit a wig or braid her own hair, her weave remained untouched since her arrival in new york.
her mother had suggested looking up youtube tutorials to figure out how to wear the wigs she'd brought, but mackenza wasn't trying to learn anything.
she just needed someone to do her hair for money, she would rather die than. try to attempt to do her hair by herself.
"you can't keep complaining and then reject the solutions i give you, kenza," her mother responded with a sigh. the conversation was one-sided visually; her mom was looking into the camera while mackenza's own camera remained off.
"mackenza, turn your camera on."
the request was met with silence as mackenza chose not to respond. from the other end, a resigned sigh was heard as the older woman acknowledged her assistant continuously calling her attention."okay, you know what, i'll text you before you go to sleep. i love you."
mackenza remained quiet until the call ended, releasing a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. her mother's continual check-ins were overwhelming, calling incessantly on every device—her phone, her ipad, even her apple watch, and on every number available.
she had a clear preference for texting over phone calls. if socializing in person already drained her, why would she go out of her way to do it over the phone?
lying in bed for a while longer, mackenza's gaze was fixed on her ceiling, washed in shades of purple from the LED lights. it wasn't long before the growling of her stomach broke her trance, signaling it was time to for her to eat.
she picked up her phone and propped herself up in bed, casually flipping through her apps until she opened Spotify. hitting play on her brent faiyaz playlist, she indulged in the music of her favorite artist, whom she had seen live multiple times and fantasized about litteraly every time she wasn't at his show.
